Ring of Secrets
Authors: Roseanna M. White
Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #Romance, #Suspense
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover photos © Chris Garborg; Harald Biebel / 123rf.com; Anandkrish 16 / Bigstock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
RING OF SECRETS
Copyright © 2013 by Roseanna M. White
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
White, Roseanna M.
Ring of secrets / Roseanna M. White.
p. cm.â(Culper Ring series ; bk. 1)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5099-2 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5100-5 (eBook)
1. Women spiesâFiction. 2. New York (N.Y.)âHistoryâRevolution, 1775-1783âFiction.
I. Title.
PS3623.H578785R56 2013
813'.6âdc23
2012026068
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherâexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
To those who can read my mind and love me anywayâDavid, the other half of my heart. And Stephanie, the other half of my brain.
Contents
Map of Long Island, Connecticut, and the Hudson, 1776
(free sample) Whispers from the Shadows
This book's journey has been full of amazing support and encouragement. I need first to thank my husband, David, who answered my question of “What was that spy ring thing called again?” with “The Culper Ring, honey,” about five times before I finally looked it up for myselfâand got the idea for the story. And, of course, my sweet little Xoë for always wanting me to tell her about Winter's story, and precious Rowyn for zooming around the house singing his “super spy” song. Then there are my parents and in-laws and sister and her family, whose support means the world.
Thanks to Stephanie, critique partner and best friend, who wouldn't let me give up on the idea at the first obstacle. Then comes my rock star of an agent, Karen Ball, who believed in this story enough to sign me after a single phone call. And, of course, the writing groups that answer all my questions and cheer me ever on: ACFW, HisWriters, and Colonial American Christian Writers, and my critique partners, Stephanie, Carol, Dina, and Amanda.
Finally, a big, mile-wide grin of gratitude goes out to my fabulous editor, Kim Moore, and the enthusiastic team at Harvest House. Ever since that first excited phone call an hour after I sent the proposal, this process has been one leap for joy after another. I'm so honored to be a member of the Harvest House family, and I am having such fun working with you guys!
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
P
SALM
91:4
“Intelligence is the life of every thing in war.”
Letter from General Nathanael Greene to Major John Clark, November 5, 1777
Map of Long Island, Connecticut, and the Hudson, 1776
City of New York
November 1779
L
et innocence be your mask
.
Winter Reeves swished her ivory lace fan and gave Colonel Fairchild the same practiced smile she always did. She squelched the response that wanted to escape, forbade her eyes from so much as flashing. Perhaps her gaze wandered, but he would only think her bored.
He thought her very easily bored.
“A stroke of luck, do you not agree, my dear?”
Despite the racing of her heart at the pearl of information he had just let slip, she made her nod a half-second later than it ought to have been. As if she were inattentive, paying no heed to his endless prattle. Why, after all, would she care about such a boring matter as paper? In his eyesâin the eyes of everyone hereâshe was naught but the pretty, brainless granddaughter of the Hamptons.
Let your beauty hide your heart
.
Winter's gaze snagged on Robbie's, though she looked past him quickly. A successful business owner and newspaperman for the
Royal Gazette
, Robert Townsend was deemed acceptable company on a
day-to-day basis, but Grandmother had higher hopes for her. At social occasions, she was not permitted to speak to him.
She didn't have to speak to him. A mere glance showed her his waistcoat tonight bore seven silver buttons. Sevenâthat meant he had slid a note into the bottom, middle drawer of the chest in the drawing room.
Feigning a yawn partially hidden behind her fan, Winter blinked. Slowly.
Colonel Fairchild interrupted his monologue with drawn brows. “Forgive me, my dear. You must be in need of refreshment by now. Allow me to fetch you a cup of spiced tea.”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Winter injected her tone with relief and made her smile sheepish. “I shall just slip out for a moment while you get it, Colonel.”
Fairchild bowed, though he kept his head erect. No doubt to stop his new powdered wig, more heavily curled than his old one, from slipping.
Winter dipped a short curtsy and headed for the ballroom's exit, her palms damp.
“Winnie!”
She forced pleasure into her face as she turned toward her grandmother. “Yes, ma'am? Can I get you anything?”
Grandmother narrowed her ice blue eyes. “Where are you going? The ball has barely started, and there is someone I want you to meet.”
Winter lowered her gaze. “I will only be a moment, Grandmother. I must attend to a personal need.”
The matron lifted her chin. No one would doubt Phillippa Hampton was the queen of this particular event. Her hair was an extravagant tower of whitened curls, ribbons, and gems. Her gown was a creation so exquisite, King George himself would have envied the craftsmanship.
Her glare could shrivel a thriving oak tree. “Return posthaste. Mr. Lane is awaiting an introduction.”
Let your enemies count you a friend.
She pasted on an obedient, docile smile. “I will be quick.”
“I should think so, knowing who awaits your return.” The snap of Grandmother's fan of Spanish lace all but forced Winter's eyes to the right.
As if Mr. Lane were different from any other guest here. As if he were anything but another haughty, arrogant Loyalist. As if he wereâ¦