There was a certain commotion at the door. Elizabeth and the man were both standing there, talking to the redcoat before them. “I assure you, Sergeant,” the man was saying, “that I know nothing about any tea party at the harbor, nor do I know anything about any smuggled and hidden arms. And I assure you that this young lady knows nothing of it either. Indeed, I would appreciate some discretion here. I visited here earlier with a lady friend. You know how difficult a certain privacy can be. Then I returned, for I’d hoped to convince the Bartholomews to move down to Virginia to take positions at Cameron Hall, but Frederick’s printing business has been quite a success.” “He prints traitorous garbage!” the sergeant insisted, then he added quickly, “Lord Cameron, sir, that is.” “What? Is the man not still a free Englishman with rights! Come on, man, what has this to do with anything? I’m telling you, Sergeant, yes, we’ve been having a tea party. Elizabeth and I were sipping a warm berry brew when you so rudely interrupted us.
