Grace had been waiting in the darkness with a dying lantern for a while. She was starting to wonder if she was hiding out in the wrong cove when a small boat landed close by, more silently than she had ever heard a boat land. Caleb Brewster hopped out, giving her a huge bear hug before asking, "You've finally decided to join us, eh?"

"Yeah, it's about time I did, isn't it? Since everyone else I grew up with is in on it," she smiled, handing him a note. "That's for Ben. I've hobbled together the code I got from Abe's books."

"I'll pass it on to him. Oh, but this is for you." He fished a small pamphlet out of his coat, handing it over to her. "It's our code book. Means you're officially a part of the team now. Hide it well, okay?"

She nodded firmly. "Not a problem."

"I've got to be running, but does this mean you and Tallboy -"

Grace shook her head. "Caleb, I don't know. We haven't said much to each other about anything other than the ring. But I'm sure he'll tell you if anything happens."

They didn't have much of a chance to catch up in the barn, but then again, they never did. It came with the spy work - time was crucial. Caleb had to sail away only moments later, since he was risking capture by the British every second he was on land. Grace crept back into the Woodhull home, stashing the pamphlet under a floorboard in her room as she thought up a story that would let her leave New York - something about sick family, perhaps.

Judge Woodhull had told her to return when her cousin was doing better, wishing her a safe trip and a return in good health. She'd convinced him that Sally, a nonexistent pregnant cousin living outside of Philadelphia, was ill. Her husband was away, serving in His Majesty's Royal Navy, and would probably not be back until after his third child was born. Sally, ill and expecting a child, was helpless on her own. Grace had successfully bought herself two days in Pennsylvania. Even Major Hewlett hadn't asked too many questions, simply telling her to be careful on the roads, since rebels could be hiding anywhere, waiting to attack.

She and Ben traveled for several hours, finally stopping in a small town a few miles from Philadelphia. They didn't talk much, but she could tell that there was a lot that he was thinking about. While the October weather was starting to turn chilly, neither of them was bothered. Instead, they were ready to meet their commanders, Grace excitedly getting ready upstairs with a few other women who had arrived earlier in the day, and meeting Ben in the hall just as the ball was starting.

"Tallmadge!" A distinguished-looking man in a general's uniform waved him over, saying hello and asking how his journey had been. Grace appeared by Ben's side, smiling. "Is this…"

"Grace Hopwood," she curtsied and extended her hand as Ben nodded. "Pleasure to meet you, general."

The general smiled, kissing her hand. "General George Washington. Major Tallmadge here has been telling me about you, and about how you've joined a rather elite group in Setauket, shall we say."

"Yes, sir."

"We're quite proud that you've stepped up," Washington told her as she internally hyperventilated, thinking of the power and majesty, as well as the immense importance, of the man standing in front of her. The revolution rested on his shoulders and bowed at his direction. "Be careful out there, ma'am."

"I will, sir."

Washington excused himself, heading to talk to another general who he had spotted across the crowd. Even at a party, he still had business to attend to. There was a war on, after all. Much of the night went the same way, Grace being introduced to many people who were making the rounds of the party. When the music started up, Ben asked her to dance, whirling Grace onto the dance floor as soon as she accepted. "I've been thinking, and this is the first time we've been able to talk. I know it's been years since I left Setauket, and I should have written to you sooner -"

"Ben, I've been thinking about it too. About the years you missed, about everything that happened," she offered as they spun past Washington, who nodded to them both. "I really am sorry that I gave up on writing to you after my first few letters went unanswered."

"I am the one who should be sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't able to answer you." He sighed, correcting himself. "I actually received one of your letters, but I couldn't bring myself to write back and disappoint you with the news that I was staying with the camp. I'm sure you knew that I wasn't - I'm still not - welcome in Setauket."

"I think, for now, at least, we should try to turn over a new leaf," she proposed. "It's been too long to go right back to where we were, but I'm not opposed to talking like we did when we were friends, like we did before… before."

Ben nodded, saying, "I think that's for the best. We'll see how everything goes. But I know it will be… difficult, with you working for Judge Woodhull."

"We can make things work," she resolved.

They danced to a few songs, but many times, they would stop to talk to someone or be called over by a group of uniformed men, being forced to move off of the dance floor to have a conversation about military matters. Grace met more generals, colonels, majors, lieutenants, and men of other ranks whose names and titles she forgot, than she had ever seen in one room before, even living in a town swimming with British troops. When Ben was again called away by Washington and another group of men, Grace excused herself and took the skirts of her evergreen dress in her hand, heading across the ballroom to find a seat and take a moment to rest.

She found where a half-dozen small tables were set up for people to eat and rest across the room. Not many people were sitting. Instead, they had flocked to the dance floor or were mingling with the other officers, the women either gushing at the highest-ranking men they could find or in groups gossiping and admiring each others' dresses. Grace looked around, seeing a young man in a decorated military uniform sitting alone, wistfully watching the buzz of the party as he sipped his drink. She decided to sit down across from him at the table he had claimed in the corner. "Hello," she smiled, taking her seat. "I couldn't help but notice that you've been alone over here for quite a while. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," he nodded, trying to suppress his heavy accent. "I am fine."

"You're not from the colonies, are you?" She asked sympathetically, the man concentrating on what she was saying. "You're translating in your head, right? You've got quite a high rank, though. You must be doing great things for our country."

He smiled, his dark eyebrows unknitting as he broke his concentration and admitted, "I am not sure what zat word is. My English is not good. I am sorry."

"No, your English is very good," she encouraged, beaming. "Are you French? Your accent - ah, your voice - sounds like it."

He nodded. "I am from France, oui."

"I can speak a bit of French, just not very well." He positively beamed as she spoke in his native language. "I've only had a few years of it, before my brother left school and moved away to study the law. He taught me everything I know."

"I would much prefer English, mademoiselle. I must learn it if I am to stay here and be of help to ze general," he told her, taking a sip of his drink. "What is your name?"

"Grace Hopwood," she said. "And yours?"

The man smiled, kissing her hand. "Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette. My honor, mademoiselle."

"That's quite a name. May I just call you Lafayette?"

"If zat is what you wish. May I call you…ah, Gracie?" He frowned for a second, trying to pronounce it correctly.

She smiled again. He was quite sweet. "My name is Grace, but you may call me Gracie if you wish. It sounds pretty the way you say it. Beautiful," she clarified.

"No, no," he smiled, "you are beautiful."

"Thank you. May I ask why you're sitting here alone? If that's not impertinent."

"Ze general does not speak more zan a few words of French, like most of ze guests 'ere. And everyone wants to talk to him. I cannot speak much English quite yet. Zey do not seem to enjoy ah, waiting for my English."

"Well I think you speak fine English," she defended. "They just aren't as patient as they should be. They simply do not take the time to listen, since they're always thinking of what they want to say next. Again, if that isn't impertinent."

"Back in France, many do not know your language. Ze Americans who have come to France learn quickly. Monsieurs Jefferson and Franklin know ze language well. When I came here to offer my assistance, zey were, ah," he paused, searching for a word as a young man buzzing with restless energy came to sit beside them, "hesitant because I did not know much English. Bonsoir, Monsieur Alexander."

The man introduced himself to Grace as an aide de camp to Washington, immediately turning away from her and launching into a detailed discussion about troop movements with Lafayette. Though Grace thought she had mastered her fair share of the French language, this man made her look like an amateur, speaking nearly as quickly as the Frenchman did. She followed most of their discussion, finally leaning in and adding, "Wouldn't it be a better idea if you had a battalion on the other side of the hill as well? Otherwise, your right flank would be exposed, unless that is your plan, and you mean to march them into a corner."

They both turned to her, the aide de camp looking astonished. "You understood all of that?"

"I did," she nodded, looking between the two men. "I've been sitting here having a conversation with the marquis for a while now. However, if I were you, I would try English, since he's trying to learn."

Not entirely knowing how to process this woman's knowledge, he shook his head, standing and saying, "I have to get back to the general. But take care with that one, Lafayette. She's smart. Reminds me of Mrs. Church."

Grace watched him go before turning back to her companion, who told her, "He is really a nice man, just frustrated because Congress is cutting down ze supplies again, and he has to answer to zem and also to ze troops."

"I understand," she nodded, watching the aide de camp cross the dance floor and say hello to a woman in blue. "Not many people are willing to give women a chance at all, and they are amazed when we understand things more complex than this season's dress patterns, especially when they are about their military."

Lafayette smiled sympathetically. "It is ze same 'ere with immigrants. But we are at a party, non? Zis is not a discussion for a ball such as zis. Would you like to dance?"

She accompanied him out into the center of the ballroom as a new song started. Hours later, as the ball was winding down, Ben found the couple still whirling around the dance floor, chattering away in a mixture of French and English, switching languages whenever they stumbled upon a word one of them didn't know. When the song stopped, they joined him by where the bar had been set up, Tallmadge nodding respectfully at the marquis and joyfully telling him, "Thank you for keeping her occupied while General Washington and I were busy. Grace, are you ready? We have a long ride ahead of us. It's about time to grab your coat."

"Just a moment, Ben." She turned back to her dance partner, thanking him for, "such a lovely evening. I pray you have a safe journey back to camp with the general."

"And I pray zat you and Monsieur Tallmadge have a safe journey home. I will write you in York City - Setauket - Mademoiselle Gracie." He kissed her cheek, bidding her goodnight.

Ben promptly took her arm, leading her outside as their carriage was being brought over from the barn. Just as they turned out of the door, gracefully thanking their hosts, Grace glanced back, Lafayette giving a small wave. She smiled and nodded back. Ben helped her into the carriage, talking to the driver for a moment before joining her inside. She passed him a blanket, which he gratefully wound around himself to keep out the rapidly cooling night air. "I see you've made quite an impression with the Marquis de Lafayette," he noted as they began to move, adding in a terrible accent, "And zat he's made quite ze impression on you, Mademoiselle Gracie."

"Don't mock him, Ben." She hit her friend's arm with part of her blanket, settling into the seat across from him and looking out of the window. "He's a smart man, and will probably be fairly helpful for the cause."

"Well, while you were busy dancing and creating a liaison with the French, I convinced Washington that you'll be an asset to the cause. He fully approves of you and he'll be expecting a report soon. Put it in a cypher, sympathetic stain, whatever you want, as long as it can't be detected by anyone who might intercept it."

"Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"You're his spymaster, aren't you? You're the one in charge of Setauket, at least. That means General Washington's probably got you in charge of more," she deduced.

Ben nodded, looking out the window at the countryside rushing past. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone very much, but I can trust you. Our little ring is just a part of it. There are sources all over New York, everyone from tailors to socialites feeding us information. And now you're a part of it."