With the flames of rebellion sweeping across the colonies, a passionate fire blazes between two unlikely lovers: a rebel spy and a loyalist socialite, whose hearts are torn between their sudden attraction and familial loyalty.

In 1778 America, Benjamin Hoskin and Clara Boyd are on opposing sides of the revolution in every sense of the word—poor, rich, rebel, loyalist—yet after Benjamin’s brother is hanged for treason, their worlds collide when he assumes a mission to spy on Clara’s Tory family.

Benjamin, a bookkeeper-turned-military-spy, infiltrates the Boyd family under a false alias, hoping to charm their British connections, and gather vital information for the American side. Only, he didn’t count on the allure of the middle daughter, a vulgar, brazen young woman with quite the keen eye. While trying to fight his attraction for the sake of familial duty, he struggles to avoid capture…both from the enemy and of his heart.

Clara, a feisty socialite with loyalty towards the king, and complete devotion to her sisters, is fascinated by Benjamin’s prudish mannerisms, shyness, and overall mysterious aura. In her efforts to refine him into a worthy match for her eldest sister, she never expects to develop romantic stirrings for him herself. The fire forging between them leads to Clara discovering Benjamin’s true identity, the catalyst that leaves him injured with limited leg function. When this betrayal forces them to separate, Clara must choose between aiding her own side in the war—her family—or the soft-spoken, handsome rebel, who inexplicably helped her reclaim her self-worth.

Tropes You'll Enjoy: forced proximity forbidden love opposites attract class difference secret and mistaken identity spies spirited heroine tortured hero slow burn

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do you remember what i told you last time?

have you been doing well since i saw you?

that's not what you told me back then.

when was the last time i saw you?

you were shorter then.

i'm picking the restaurant this time.

we've known each other since we were children.

always knew i could count on you.

that time was different. this is worse.

you're not going to let me live that down, are you?

i seem to remember a conversation we had back then.

so you changed your mind about it?

do you remember our encounter in paris?

you should know me by now.

am i the only one that knows the truth?

we had a lot of help back then.

your mom told me to look out for you.

you just love bringing that back up to annoy me.

maybe don't mention my past indescretions?

this was never going to work out between us.

i told you not to get attached.

i know more about you than you think.

i was there, remember?

i'm not about to forget all the shit you put me through.

you told me you were going to try and make this work.

remember what i said to you?

the last time i saw you, things were good between us.

you never mentioned this before.

that was the longest flight of my life, and you made it worse.

can i still trust you after all that?

at least we tried to make something work.

we never discussed what happened between us.

okay, but i'm driving the car this time.

i haven't forgotten what you said last week.

i'm still thinking about your comment.

i didn't realize it was you when i first saw you.

you seem to make a lot of enemies around here.

there's not much for us to talk about.

we worked it out last time.

i know you far better than you know yourself.

we have a long history.

is that the shirt you were wearing last time?

what don't i know about you?

i haven't told them about us.

you were the only person i could go to.

you know me.

this is bigger than both of us.

i can't stand your driving.

are you taking me to the place we had dinner last time?

that's not at all what you said.

didn't we agree on that?

i thought i made it very clear where i stand.

are these the same people that came after you last time?

are you still going on about it?

can we talk about it?

staying silent about it won't help.

you're the only person who knows the real me.

“Well, aye— a man canna ken a thing before he’s in it.” His tone conveyed some defensiveness, but he thought it was warranted. It had been just him and his mother for so long. He assumed marriage wouldn’t be exactly the same but the sense of love and duty hopefully would be. “Is that not what doctors are for?” A tease, which she would know as he'd not been keen on calling in a doctor for his broken leg. Butcher, he'd called it. “I'll not be coddled,” he added emphatically. “Just try it and ye’ll see.”

It had been his own suggestion, yet Jock took in a surprised breath as their hands touched. For a moment he resisted, the instinct of a creature not entirely domesticated— not feral by any means but not tamed either. But then he surrendered to it, presenting his hand as a gift. The touch felt easy to fall into for him. An echo of her helping before, this time with no painful distractions, only fingers meeting and eyes choosing not to. Only a joke, why should it mean anything more? “Told ye— all good.”

Jock’s eyes chose to look instead, following Anne’s movements, her reactions. He caught the flush of her cheeks, the way her gaze darted away like a minnow in a pond. That brief glimpse into her thoughts was welcome, made her feel more real than the average upper-class English he took delight in raiding. The contrast in their hands didn’t cause disgust then. She still wasn’t like the kind of rich nobility who kept their well-heeled boots on the necks of those beneath them. He’d thought so when they first met. She had proved to him how wrong that was.

“Ah, yer lack o’ faith in me…” An exaggeratedly hurt expression followed. “If ye think I’d be caught—” Youthful bravado that he knew wasn’t realistic. When it came to the king’s forests, that was different; he knew those paths well. But a city he’d never visited, so large and active, any assumptions about navigating that were only wishful thinking. “We could have cells side by side. That wouldna be so bad,” he mused before he could think better of it. “On’y that we’d not be lonely. I don’t want tae die. Not so young.”

Shaking the idea out of her mind, Anne let out a soft sigh. She couldn't allow herself to get into trouble again. She refused to destroy the new life she'd modeled out for herself and refused to be uprooted for a foolish mistake again. But it didn't appear as though Jock felt the same.

“You do not wish to die so young, and yet you fill your days doing the most reckless of things? I must say you are quite the contradiction. Though, I suppose all men are to some extent."

As she began to walk, Anne folded her hands in front of her and peered up at the sky. There wasn't as visible signs of rain clouds and she took in a lungful of fresh air with a smile. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the fields of Northumberland with blooming geraniums and bluebells, could feel the clovers and young heather beneath her feet. If she focused hard enough, she could almost smell the brine of the North Sea that wafted in in the early hours of the mornings.

Her home sickness existed as a chronic affliction, but it most of the time it presented itself as a dull albeit constant ache. In the beginning, it had been brutal. The longing was so intense that she often felt as though she would unravel thread by thread, cell by cell until she was nothing but a lump of sorrow. Anne had grown up since the first few years of her exile, but in moments like this, when she felt the breeze on her face and the sun on her skin, she felt the pang of yearning like a shot to her sternum.

"So," Opening her eyes, she cast him a curious glance. "Where exactly did you grow up? My family and I used to visit Scotland when I was a young girl. It was always beautiful. I can't imagine why anyone would leave the countryside for the city." If she had it her own way, Anne would spend out the rest of her days in the countryside, wasting away the hours beneath the shade of a tree and reading to her heart's content. But, as it stood, her duty required her to be in London. And with the way the current social season was playing out so far, she didn't expect to be returning to Dorset anytime soon.

" all is well, i trust? " he greets her with a smile and a touch to the brim of his hat. the last time he'd seen her had been as unlike this fine day in the park as one might imagine - a tense, worried evening when he had tended to one of the children in her care. a fever, which had mercifully passed, had caused more than a little concern. but after one or two trying nights, his services had no longer been needed. " when i say that i'm pleased i haven't seen you these past weeks, i hope you do not take offense... "

"No offense taken at all." She let out a soft laugh. "I'm sure Miss Elizabeth would share the sentiment. And as grateful as I am for your presence, I am quite glad we haven't been in need of your services."

As kind and helpful as he'd been, Anne couldn't deny that she, too, had been relieved when he'd finally taken his leave. His departure from the sick room and subsequent absence in the home meant that the treatment he'd administered had worked, and that Elizabeth was in recovery. In the following weeks, she had busied herself with caring for her girls with a heightened ferocity. She doted on Elizabeth as much as she could while making sure the other girls didn't slack in their studies while their sister recovered. It had been a delicate balance and she'd hardly thought about the handsome doctor, until their paths crossed once more.

"But I hope you have been well, too, doctor. With the change of the seasons, I'm sure you've been quite busy. I do hope you've been finding time to take care of yourself."

it   takes   a   particular   kind   of   lady   to   contradict   a   gentleman,   much   less   an   unmarried   bridgerton   son,   but   benedict   finds   that   he   enjoys   it   almost   immediately.   and   of   course,   everything   she   said   was   correct.   it   was   why   he   hid   the   parts   of   himself   that   he   enjoyed   the   most,   went   to   parties   with   people   who   would   never   dare   out   him   and   went   to   events   in   society   on   the   very   same   day.   he   cared   about   the   reputation   of   his   family.   he   had   two   unmarried   sisters   who's   reputations   required   he   behave   himself   in   the   eyes   of   society.   he   had   become   very   good   at   toeing   the   line.

❝   i   have   three   brothers,   two   of   which   are   already   married.   the   bridgerton   name   will   go   on   and   i   needn't   worry   myself   with   those   particular   societal   expectations.   i   have   been   blessed   with   multiple   nieces   and   nephews.   ❞

the   other   part   of   her   point,   that   they   bare   the   expectations   of   their   family,   well.....   he   had   been   dealing   with   that   his   entire   life.   he   knew   they   were   disappointed   in   him,   thought   he   was   meant   for   more,   but   no   one   was   more   disappointed   than   he   was   in   himself.   he'd   been   searching   for   so   long   for   something   that   excited   him,   enacted   the   kind   of   passion   he'd   only   ever   seen   in   paintings   or   read   in   works   of   poetry.

❝   you   and   i   can   both   agree   there.   i   have   forged   a   path   for   myself   outside   of   polite   society,   a   place   where   i   feel   i   can   truly   express   myself.   are   you   able   to   do   the   same,   miss....   ?   ❞

“I suppose you are rather fortunate in that front, then. Though, one would assume you wouldn’t want to be a bad example for your nieces and nephews. Surely they look up to you. Metaphorically and physically.” She narrowed her gaze as she offered him a weak smile. Although her secretive past was filled with countless skeletons, it was her current occupation and life's duty to set a good example for young ladies.

After all, her charges could very well marry this stranger one day—a thought she didn’t wish to expand upon at the current moment.

In reality, Anne could very well be an aunt by now. She could likely have a small brood of nieces and nephews back in Northumberland that she didn’t know about, and that didn't know about her, either. Nieces and nephews that wouldn’t bother themselves asking “Where is Auntie Annelise?” because Auntie Annelise no longer existed, and never would. She had effectively been erased from her own family line, a fact that wounded her daily, so to hear someone speak so nonchalantly about it was unsettling. The mere thought of it all brought a sour taste to her mouth and she fought to push it out of her mind.

Outside of polite society. His words jerked her back to the present and she turned to look at him with a curious expression. By all accounts he seemed to look the part of a regular gentleman of the ton. He was clean shaven and dressed well—though, surely not on his own, she surmised. A valet probably helped him tie his cravat and starched his collar. The same valet that probably undressed him as well and laundered his linens. \

Spoiled, she thought. Like all men.

Even in her youth, Anne had dressed herself. Or rather, the Shawcross sisters had dressed one another. But over all, he seemed relatively put together and respectable, so she couldn’t imagine someone like him keeping impolite company.

“You might consider yourself quite fortunate on that front as well.” Her smile wavered. She didn’t answer him outright, but her avoidance felt like an answer all the same. In a way, Anne had also walked a separate path from those of her siblings, but that path had been forged in blood and tears. She had not sauntered down it willingly nor happily, but she had found a resting spot along the way and was content with her life as it was. And she supposed that was all she could ask for.

“Wynter.” Anne finally supplemented with a bow of her head. “In this so-called polite society, my name is Miss Wynter.”

perhaps an enemy's company is better than none.

never pray to the gods that answer after dark.

what is a person, if not the marks they leave behind?

there is a defiance in being a dreamer.

nothing is all good or all bad. life is messier than that.

don't you remember, when you were nothing but shadow and smoke?

the old gods may be great, but they are neither kind nor merciful.

do not mistake this kindness. i simply want to be the one who breaks you.

i do not want to die as i have lived, which is no life at all.

was any of it real?

you are not capable of love.

if you loved me, you would have let me go by now.

love is hungry. love is selfish.

want is for children. this is need, and need is painful but patient.

were the moments of beauty worth the years of pain?

it is sad to forget. but it's a lonely thing to be forgotten.

i confess, i do not want a master, and i have yet to find an equal.

you belong to me.. with me.

the rise isn't worth the fall.

you can't make people love you. if it isn't a choice, it isn't real.

it is easier to be alone among so many people.

i know your heart my dear, i know when it falters.

it will hurt and it will pass. all things do.

you move among them like a ghost.

He looked a bit sympathetic ❝why is that?❞ he asked curiously. If he was in the same country as his siblings, he would make sure he saw them often. The bridgertons were a very close bunch, and while they fought and argued, they all loved one another. He had to remind himself often that not every family was as close and loving as his own. Some fought but never loved one another. He did not want to make assumptions about miss wynter. Her sisters could just live far away, maybe they married. He did not want to think the worse..

Colin felt a blush form on his cheeks, something that never happened. ❝i am sure you haven't met many men here. I am sure there are more interesting. Handsome? No, charming? No, but interesting, well that might be a better candidate for that honor❞ he knew his family loved him, but they never seem to care about his travels.

"Well..." She began, clearing her throat. His question caught her off guard. How did she explain her estrangement from her family without revealing herself in the process? The only reason she was on the opposite side of the country, with a fake name, and a shadowed past was because of her mistakes. She had been young and foolish, and if she were to prevent histories from repeating, she knew she'd be wise to be more cautious when sharing tidbits of her past.

One wrong word could be enough to ruin everything. One wrong move and the facade she'd built up over the years could come crashing down.

"They live quite far away, you see. In my hometown. And my current duties require my presence here in London, so I rarely have time to travel freely. And with their own lives, it is rather difficult for my sisters to travel for visitations with me, either. I do hear from them occasionally, but the frequency of our letters has lessened recently."

Although she insinuated otherwise, Anne knew in her heart that she'd walk barefoot across the entire countryside if it meant being welcomed back into her family. But she had been exiled, removed from their home and their family's history for a reason. To return would be a slap in the face to both her and her family. No, it was better this way, she reasoned. She was paying for her misdeeds while her sisters were allowed to carry on with the lives they deserved.

"We might think to add 'humble' to that list as well, hm?" Her features softened as a real smile returned to her lips. "Then again, humility is not exactly a common quality among men of the ton either, is it?"

always   is   what   he   wanted   to   say,   sipping   on   his   drink.   there   was   never   a   time   where   his   worries   didn't   threaten   to   overwhelm   him.   the   pressure   of   the   bridgerton   name,   of   finding   a   passion....   but   what   came   out   instead,   more   melancholy   than   the   words   typically   would   be,   was   ❝   worries   are   for   first   sons   with   the   responsibility   of   their   family.   what   mistakes   could   i   make   ?   ❞

But that wasn't a problem she needed to dwell on at the moment. For now, she was determined to make it through the rest of the day with her wits and sanity intact. And yet, she couldn't help but ponder, turning to him with an inquisitive tone.

"But don't all sons carry some sort of responsibility as well? As a male, you carry your name and allow the family line to continue on. Therefore you bear the responsibilities and expectations of your family, such responsibilities that exist whether you are the first born or the tenth born."

Realizing how rude and brash she much appear with her nagging questions, Anne bowed her head and hoped her loose lips wouldn't be her downfall.

She was no longer a noble lady, and she could not afford to forget her place in the world. She was a measly governess now, intended to be naive and ignorant, especially to the inner workings of a high born family. If anyone asked, she could blame it on her occupation. Spending most of her days conversing with young ladies was sure to make one forget how to behave in polite society. Besides, she had no right to speak about familial expectations when she'd nearly destroyed her entire family's reputation in a single night.

"Though, perhaps I am mistaken. Alas, my perspective is limited only to that of a daughter's." Anne folded her hands in front of her as she continued. "I suppose I just find the expectations of society to be rather... suffocating at times. One misstep and the house of cards collapses. One crack and the entire facade comes crumbling down."

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Benedict smiled warmly at the pretty young women. ❝nonsense, it could happen to anyone. All is well its returned.❞ he recognized that self deprecating way most young women had, he saw his sister Francesca have it, and his sister Eloise’s friend Penelope have it. It was not fair that society made women feel even with a small thing, like they had to apologize. He did not see it necessary . He was not going to overly correct that though, as someone who has four sisters, he knew a bit how to talk to a young lady.

❝are you new to London? I have not seen you before. My name is Benedict bridgerton❞

he almost did not want to say his last name, as his father was well known, and once someone learned of his last name, that’s all they saw him as. However it was as if once they heard his name they treated him differently. For once he’d love to meet someone who did not know him, or at least his family name, and treated him like any other gentleman.

❝and you are?❞ he asked curiously

“I—um, yes, sir. I recently arrived in Town for the season.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. But it was too late to rectify her words, it would only draw more attention to her if she were to correct herself. Although she was technically in town for the social season, it wasn’t because she would be a part of it. It was her employers who would be participating in the events of the season, not Anne herself. Yet she knew stating such a thing would only raise more questions she didn’t dare to answer. It was best to keep her head down and keep quiet.

But she hardly had a chance to think further about it when his name finally registered in her mind and her head snapped up in recognition. Bridgerton. She’d heard that name before, spoken in giddied whispers from young girls of the ton and breathy sighs from starry-eyed servants. They were quite famous in London, she’s found. The family itself was quite substantial in the Mayfair area, but Benedict alone? Well, he had also made quite the name for himself amongst both men and women in town.

“What? No!” Anne replied instantly closed the distance between them, reaching for Sophie’s hand in earnest. “No,” She repeated. “Of course not. I would never tell anyone, I swear it. Your secret is safe with me.”

As the realization dawned on her, however, Anne’s brows furrowed in concern as she lowered her voice. “Why? Did someone say something? Did someone see the two of you?” Her own heart rate rose as she thought of the consequences of such a possibility. Sophie was quickly becoming someone Anne admired and considered a friend—something she’d never thought possible when she’d left her home all those years ago. And yet they both seemed to share a similar story, and possibly a similar fate if either of their secrets got out.