Alexander Hamilton was the love of my life.

As his mistress, I had always assumed that our dalliances would remain a secret. Or at the very least, not public in the way it became.

I remember when I first heard the news; first read the pamphlet. At first I didn't know what it was. It took me quite a significant time to decipher – I had little education to speak of – but I eventually I was able to understand enough to know what was contained therein.

The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife for a considerable time, with his knowing consent…

'How could he do this?' I thought, my mind reeling. He had taken a rumour that surely only a couple people knew of, and refuted it by sharing an affair of which no one had accused him.

…if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me.

My stomach dropped, though I had not doubted that he was aware of that detail. James had not been subtle in his demands, and my actions would have certainly supported such a supposition.

I could, to a degree, understand his desire to dispel the rumour; but was there not another way to do that; one that did not involve the intimacies of our relationship being revealed to the world?

The pamphlet continued. For ninety-five pages.

This confession is not made without a blush.

I paused. Was it plausible that he might actually regret something?

And if so, what was it? Having paid James? Being unfaithful to his wife?

Me?

Truthfully I never cared about the money. I agreed to the scheme thinking that if James had the money, he wouldn't take his anger out on me. But by the end there was something else, something more.

Somewhere along the road I had fallen in love with Alexander.

I remember when I was a girl of nineteen, when I didn't know what love was. My sisters were both already married, and my mother was hardly in any position to tell me.

My father had been abusive too. Susanna and Sarah and I had received several blows, but Mother always bore the brunt of them.

I expect that was why I never thought anything of James' actions. From the start he had made it very clear that I was nothing to him. I was merely an object, a tool, a means to his ever-changing end.

Not a wife, and never a lover.

But Alexander was different. He was everything James was not.

He was kind to me.

1791

I knocked cautiously on the door.

I hadn't walked far at all – I only lived a block away – and yet no journey had ever felt so slow. I didn't know what I was going to say. What could I say that wouldn't give my secret away?

What if he wasn't at home? What if I had to come back later? What if he couldn't help me? What if it didn't work? What if, what if, what if…

Slowly the door opened, putting an end to my anxieties. I knew immediately it was him. He looked dead on his feet; his clothes were askew – whether from trying to make himself presentable to answer the door or merely from his obvious lack of sleep I knew not – his hair was messy and tangled, and his small round glasses couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes.

"Hello," he even sounded exhausted. "Can I help you, Miss?"

"I am so sorry to bother you like this," I spoke carefully, but my voice was barely audible. "But I was wondering if you could help me. I know you to be an honourable man."

"Of course," he said, stepping aside and ushering me inside. "What do you need?"

"I need some money," my voice was barely audible, evidenced further by the look he gave me; as though he had not understood.

Why was I stammering so? I had rehearsed this. "I need some money," I repeated. "My husband's left me quite unexpectedly, and I am without the means to support myself."

"Oh, of course," he nodded. "Let me see if I can find something."

He disappeared up the staircase. I was unsure whether I should follow him or not, so I stayed where I was in the foyer.

I looked around the room; it wasn't ostentatious in its decoration, but, even in its current state of dishevelment – which matched its occupant – it still conveyed a sense of respectability.

All the more amazing considering where this man started.

Everyone had heard the stories; how he'd arrived on a ship from the Caribbean, penniless, and managed to climb his way into repute, first serving under General Washington in the war, and then making a name for himself with his law practice and then as the Treasury Secretary.

He returned a moment later, some money in his hand, which he offered me.

"Here, Miss…," he trailed off. "I realise I do not even know your name."

I ignored the fact that he was calling me 'Miss', even though I had mentioned my husband not a minute ago. It was a welcome, if unexpected, deviation.

"Maria," I answered. "Maria Reynolds."

"Well, Miss Reynolds," he continued. "I only have thirty dollars on me at present but –"

"Oh no," I interrupted. "That is more than sufficient."

He looked relieved, and I found myself feeling, to some extent, guilty. He didn't deserve what was about to happen to him. Nobody did.

But if this could help me escape James' wrath, I would do it.

"May I walk you home?" he asked.

I nodded. "That would be most gentlemanly of you sir."

I followed him outside and waited as he bolted the front door. 'This is terribly improper,' I thought. In addition to the large social difference between us, I had only just made his acquaintance; even if I had known of him for much longer.

"Are you able to let yourself in?" he asked, when we arrived. The walk had seemed so much shorter this time.

"Yes," I answered. "Thank you again sir."

He nodded and turned on his heel. I desperately hoped he could not hear me inhale. Now was the time to act.

I grabbed his hand. He turned around to face me.

In that moment I forgot why I was doing this. I forgot about James; I didn't care about the money. I was doing this for myself. I wanted this.

I wanted him.

"Stay."

I tried not to think of it as lying in the beginning. James hadn't abandoned me the way I told Alexander, but he was hardly a gentleman.

There is always truth in lies.

By the time he started to pay James, even the threat of my husband's violence – the very reason I had complied with his wishes – was inconsequential. I just wanted to see him again. To feel loved. James had never treated me the way Alexander did; in my bed or anywhere else.

1791

"I'm coming," I called, hastening towards the front door. I seized a shawl and covered my shoulders. It would have to suffice for now; James was not at home, and I was not yet presentable for receiving guests, but whoever was outside was insistent.

I opened the door and the shawl fell off, fluttering to the floor, as I was nearly knocked over as the guest barrelled inside.

It was Alexander.

Despite the nature of his arrival, I was overjoyed at such an unexpected visit, until I saw his face. Suddenly I was thankful James wasn't around.

Normally I would not have minded being in such a state of undress in his presence, given our past intimacy, but this was different.

He was livid.

"Was your whole story a setup?" he screamed, without any preamble. "Was it all a lie?"

My heart plummeted.

It was all over. It had to be. James' plan had failed, he would be more furious than ever, and I was about to lose all my happiness.

I would have done it all for naught.

I couldn't speak. I didn't want to speak. The sooner anything more happened, the sooner everything would end.

All I could do was look at him.

He was beautiful. Even when he was looking at me now, like I was the most pathetic and despicable creature he'd ever seen, he was beautiful.

I remembered his lips on mine. They were soft, gentle, kind. As though making me happy was important to him. James never kissed me like that.

James hardly ever kissed me at all.

But I would not be kissed today, kindly or otherwise. Alexander's face looked murderous.

In the deepest parts of my mind I did not doubt he would eventually discover the truth. But part of me hoped he would remain ignorant.

Then I wouldn't lose him.

"WELL?"

"I didn't know…" I cried, my voice faltering.

I couldn't lose him. I felt more for him than for myself. Once more the plan forgotten, I feared for the life of the man I loved.

I loved him. I knew it with absolute clarity. If there was only one singular truth in the world, it was this.

"Stop crying," his accusation hurt all the more after my epiphany.

"I didn't know any better," I promised, pleading with him.

I had never had any idea whether or not James' plan would work. I did not even know whether I done it out of a desire to escape my husband's wrath, or out of my duty as his wife.

I told myself it was the former, but maybe it wasn't.

I knew no more about love now than I had before I married. Alexander, being over a decade my senior, with a wife and a family – to say nothing of the worldliness that came from being at the forefront during the Revolutionary War and a prominent role in establishing our new country – knew about such things.

Because he had shown me such things in the past month.

He had never deserved any of this. And, painful as it might be, as heartbreaking as the outcome could become, I couldn't bring myself to continue to deceive him.

I wanted him to hear me out. Perhaps he would understand why I did it if he would just let me explain.

He didn't.

And yet he did listen to my pleas. And, once more, he stayed.

I don't know why he paid James. He said he didn't want me that day he found James' letter. He was talking to himself. He didn't think I heard him. But I did.

Everyone said he ruined his own life, broke his wife's heart. But my life was also forever changed.

James had an ulterior motive in extorting money out of Alexander; though I was not privy to the particulars. He never cared to tell me anything.

I did not feel bad when he was incarcerated. He was not a good husband. Alexander was; he may have been unfaithful to his wife, but I knew he would never raise a hand against her.

She was a lucky woman.

The only thing I ever thought of was whether it had, in any way, been worth it. I'd agreed to James' demands to escape his mistreatments, not for pecuniary gain like him.

But then the affair ended, and with it, the money. And, no longer in a position to fulfil his end of the bargain he'd made, James was found guilty and sent to prison.

Ultimately I escaped my husband because he was convicted, not because Alexander paid him.

I was constantly wracked with guilt. Had I hurt the man I loved more than anyone else for no reason?

Could James have received the money from someplace else, leading to the very same outcome? Could it have happened another way?

Would I even have wanted it to?

Sometimes I wished I could return to being Miss Maria Lewis, rather than Mrs. Reynolds.

But Maria Lewis had never met Alexander Hamilton.

It was only a year after the affair ended that I was able to leave James permanently. I sued him for divorce with Senator Aaron Burr as my lawyer. At the time I knew nothing of the relationship between him and Alexander, but in time I would learn.

In a twist of fate, somehow what I had told Alexander the day we met was exactly what happened. I was without a husband and had no way to provide for myself.

Not even my family could help. My father had been widowed in the years since I married, and was still as destitute as he had been his entire life. Susanna was living in Massachusetts, and Sarah in Georgia, and I could do nothing more than pay them a short visit.

I was on my own.

It had been that way for much of my life.

Susanna was the talented child. Despite our lack of education, she could sing beautifully and was a naturally gifted painter, drawing in much admiration from anyone from relatives to friends to eligible young suitors.

Sarah. She had always been the angel. Even without possessing Susanna's innate talents, she was demure and sweet; a model daughter, which made her a model wife, and later, a model mother.

And me? No talents, no family, no prospects.

I was the wicked one.

Temptress.

Seductress.

Adulteress.

I just wanted happiness. Isn't that all anybody wants?

But with my happiness came a disastrous aftermath. My life publicly headlined, for the whole country to see.

But I was just his mistress. Why did I matter?

Because it wasn't just Alexander's life. It was mine too.

I don't know how accurate this story is to the reality and I'm sure a great deal is false, but I hope I was able to include some elements of truth. Like Burr being her lawyer, which I absolutely had to include because I think it is hilarious.

Nevertheless, I hoped you enjoyed. This was a very interesting piece for me to write.