June 9th, 1774

"Look at them," simpered a tall, freckle-covered girl. "So handsome, so young, so eligible." She sighed then, shaking her head. "And so willing to die." The people she spoke of were the red-coated soldiers who had just passed by, walking at a leisurely pace down the cobblestone street, there boots kicking up once-settled dust behind them.

"Hush, Bethy!" Genevieve scolded with a tight frown. Bethany was the most social of the Summerton sisters-and she wasn't even out in society yet! "Don't talk like that!" Death was the new hot topic for her and her friends.

"But Vivi, everyone has been talking about it! I heard that there has even been talk of…" she clasped her hand over her mouth with a little gasp. "Oh, I just can't say!" Genevieve rolled her hazel eyes. She knew how over-dramatic her sister could be. She was just milking this newest gossip for the strongest reaction she could get.

"Oh no, Bethy, you must tell me!" Michelyne was the youngest sister-for now- and a two years younger than Bethany at age twelve. She was also the most gullible of the family.

"Well, you see, Mrs. Page-you remember my friend, don't you? The one with the pretty red hair? I wonder how she get's it so curly...Oh! Yes, at the market last week when I went to pick up some new embroidery- it's such a pretty pink color. Salmon, they called it-but yes, Mrs. Page told me that she had heard from her husband that there has been talk of, well..." She paused for effect. Even though Genevieve considered herself above gossiping, not even she could deny that she was caught in her sister's trap. Though she was good at hiding it, she was just as keen on the new gossip as anyone else. "I heard that there has been word of a revolution." At these words, Genevieve's expression instantly hardened.

"No!" Michelyne's eyes went wide with shock and curiosity, but Genevieve was as livid as their father would be if he knew the younger girls were speaking of this patriot rebellion.

"Bethany! Don't you dare fill your sister's head with that nonsense!" she hissed, grabbing her sister's arm tightly. She herself knew that revolution was a distinct possibility in the future of the colonies, but was smart enough not to mention it to her family. "No one is rebelling against King George III, God bless his soul." She pulled out a fan, flicking it open. God, these two never let me have a moment's rest. "Ruling a country is a hard thing to do on your own! He has enough problems as it is, I'm sure."

"Yeah, like deciding what to unfairly tax Americans on next," a male voice said, obviously speaking loudly enough that they would hear. Genevieve's grip on her sisters tightened as they tried to turn around and get a good look at the eavesdropper. Or, eavesdroppers, as the case may be.

"Well! Violence is never the solution, girls. Only uneducated immigrants and poor, fatherless bastards believe such nonsense. But the Good Book says we shouldn't judge these lost souls. We should feel sorry for them," she shot back, the picture of a perfect British young woman. She knew her rebuttal was a little harsh, but she was fed up with the whole conversation, which was bound to get her into trouble. She felt comfortable in her victory, and heard Bethany gigging beside her, as they continued on.

Until, of course, she felt a strong, rough hand on her shoulder. Four men stood behind her, all but one of them taller than she was. The smaller two looked annoyed, one of them looked amused, if not confused as well, and the one who had grabbed her shoulder looked a bit upset. Genevieve felt a pang of regret at her words, but it was quickly overpowered by her fear of the man.

"Excuse me-"

"Yes. Excuse you. I'm sorry, but we must be on our way," she countered quickly, slipping out of his grip and trying not to let them see that she was nervous. The younger girls had melted behind her, their brightly colored skirts pressing against Genevieve's own as she faced the men. Her palms had quickly grown sweaty; she didn't know what to expect from these rebels.

Now, it was unusual for girls to be without a chaperone, especially in a downtown place like this-far from respectable. It wasn't unheard of, though, and the journey had been short enough that Genevieve hadn't felt it necessary to send a message to some far off cousin or uncle. The three of them had just been heading uptown to meet their eldest sister and her husband for a play, though she doubted that they would end up doing anything but gossip and embroidery. Angelina, the eldest sister, was twenty-four and pregnant with the first of the next generation of Summerton lineage. She complained that she never got out anymore, but in reality, it was she that chose to stay indoors. The last time Genevieve had stopped to visit, on the invitation of going to the park, they had ended up sewing three new baby gowns instead.

"What are a bunch of pretty ladies like you doing out all alone? You could get hurt. Some poor, bastard, immigrant might overhear you," said a short, attractive young man. Genevieve's nose scrunched.

"Is that a threat, good sir?" A curl of hair twisted around one finger, a nervous tick, she took a step backward, her sisters shuffling with her. In response the men formed a loose semi-circle around the Genevieve and her sisters, who held onto her with apprehension. She wished she could do the same, but was the oldest present, and knew it was her responsibility to protect her siblings.

"It could be. Unless, of course, you apologize for your words," he retorted with a smile. That smile had broken hearts before, the young woman was sure, but his personality was a big enough turn off that Genevieve was able to scowl.

"Perhaps you should apologize, sir! Eavesdropping is considered rude, though I forgive you. You will not offend me, sir, with emotional and senseless arguments of an uneducated and uncultured patriot." Well, that was an assumption. That he was uneducated. Not that he was uncultured. Genevieve knew the latter for certain.

Bethany let out a gasp of surprise, and it was only when the man's eyes widened that Genevieve realized she had finished her thought outloud. Swallowing in fear and licking her dry lips, she stood her ground. Then one of the men let out a laugh.

"Laurens!" the insulted man growled, his face red. The other, Laurens, didn't stop, and soon the taller one, who had grabbed Genevieve's shoulder, started to chuckle. The fourth man, who had not spoken yet, looked confused still, but began to smile as his friends laughed. The man Genevieve had insulted looked annoyed, but his lips stretched into a thin smile.

"I wonder if you open those legs as often as you open that mouth." The laughing died down almost instantly. Genevieve was taken back. His insult, phrased like a question, sounded more like an invitation and the innuendo wasn't lost on her. She didn't find it nearly as amusing as he seemed to though, and was infuriated by the triumphant smirk that had replaced the smile on his face. His abhorrent insinuation that she was, well, a whore, was unfounded and gravely offensive, though Genevieve begrudgingly admired the way he had dismissed her opinion while also ridiculing her assumed personal life.

"Monsieur!" The confused one was French, apparently, and he looked a bit scandalized.

"I-I beg your pardon, sir!" Genevieve choked out, fanning her red face. She wished a witty insult would come to mind so that she might make a jab back at him. But alas, she was at a loss for words, and so he continued to smirk, ignoring the shock of his friends.

"That's right. So now's the part where you run along back to Daddy before you get some mud on your heels-"

"Excuse me!" Bethany cut him off, looking quite fierce. "Don't you dare," she hissed, "Take that tone with my sister ever again." She took a deep breath, eyes burning with fury. "We will be taking our leave now. It has been of the utmost displeasure to meet you. Good day." This time it was she who grabbed her sister's arm, marching away, shoulders squared. Michelyne trailed behind, looking worried.

"What did he mean, 'open your legs'?" she asked innocently, once they were out earshot.

"Nothing, my dear. Don't fret about that." She nodded slowly, still looking worried. Genevieve felt terrible that her sister had had to witness that disgraceful dispute.

"I can't believe he said that! Ooh, it makes me so mad! How dare he say that about you! What does he know, anyway? I'm not worried about a rebellion at all, not if it's being backed by bastards like that!"

"Bethany!" Genevieve exclaimed, her sister's language enough to snap her out of her stupor. "Don't say that word."

"Well, you did." She pointed out matter-of-factly, and blush bloomed on Genevieve's cheeks.

"You should not repeat everything you hear." Sticking her nose in the air, she drew ahead of her siblings once again.

"But I was really brave wasn't I? Those men were scary...if they do fight against England, will we leave? Is there really going to be a war?"

"No, of course not. Don't listen to the rabble. Especially don't let Father hear you repeating it!" Genevieve almost felt bad lying to her, but it would be better than having to watch her face their father's anger later on.

The head of the Summerton family was a Loyalist gentleman with considerable funds. His family had always been a part of the English court, and he was far from eager to part with that privilege. His daughter's were often told that their Grandfather's cousin's son's daughter had married some prince or another, and that perhaps one day they could have a similar honor. Genevieve didn't much care, but her father felt it was very important that his family's legacy was continued. Either way, his daughters were expected to behave with the utmost of care and be sure not to embarrass their father, or their family. This lead to an extraordinarily good education, a privilege not many girls their age enjoyed, and depressingly few opportunities to use it.

Lost deep in thought of how to bribe Bethy into not mentioning the confrontation to Angelina, Genevieve almost missed the sound of footsteps coming up behind her.

"Mademoiselle!" Unable to help it, a knot of dread formed in her stomach. Without turning around, she pulled out a small bag, which she knew contained enough coins to keep her sisters busy for an afternoon, at least. The satin pouch jingled as she handed it over to them.

"Why don't you take Michelyne and go buy yourselves some new hair ribbons?" she offered generously. Bethany glanced over Genevieve's shoulder, obviously worried.

"But Vivi-"

"Bethy, I saw you admiring Ms. Finch's hat last Sunday-Don't deny it! I'm sure there is a nice store somewhere around here. Go on." Genevieve mustered her most encouraging smile. "I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

"Mademoiselle, can I have a moment of your attention, s'il vous plait." The man caught up to Genevieve, as her sisters turned to go. Giving her elder sister a final worried glance, Bethany grabbed Michelyne's hand and the two of them were on their way. Genevieve turned around, lips pursed.

"Yes?" He looked a bit flustered by her curt response, but she was unmoved. His friends were loitering further away, looking bashful. Her frown became a sneer. "Is there something else you need?"

"Ah...yes. Mademoiselle, I wanted-"

"We wanted!" One of his friends shouted from where they were very obviously eavesdropping again. The Frenchman rolled his eyes.

"Yes. We wanted to excuser pour...Ah! Apologize, for Monsieur Hamilton's behavior. It was uncalled for." ⑴

"Well. Thank you for that." When Genevieve did not say anything more, he glanced over his shoulder. Looking for reinforcements, perhaps. No one stepped forward.

"Do you...accept?" The Frenchman finally asked. Genevieve smiled, and the Frenchman looked relieved, blushing and refusing to meet her eyes.

"No, I do not," she simpered pleasantly. His expression fell.

"Pourquoi?! Nous excusé non? Je ne comprends pas!" he cried, looking upset.

"Je ne dois pas me expliquer à vous." Genevieve crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised.

"Vous parle francais?" He seemed caught off-guard by her response in his mother tongue, which made sense. Most colonists did not speak anything other than English.

"Oui. Je le parle un peu." Though she didn't speak much, Genevieve's mother had imparted on her some knowledge of the language. Enough to get by, if the need ever arose. ⑵

"Erm...want to let us know what's going on?" The one called Laurens had finally gotten the balls to join the conversation. "Not all of us can speak French, you see."

"Well, your friend asked me why I had not accepted your apology-quite passionately, may I add-and I proceeded to tell him that I owe none of you an explanation." Genevieve unfolded her arms, waving her fan again.

"Okay...but why didn't you accept?" he pressed. The others of the group were coming over now, curious as to why everything was taking so long. Genevieve checked over her shoulder to make sure her sisters weren't coming back, then sighed.

"Did I not just say that I do not owe you an explanation? I don't even know you. Any of you!" She threw her hands up in aggravation.

"Ah. I'm John Laurens. Nice to make your acquaintance." He suck out a hand for Genevieve's, and smiled.

"That's not what I meant," she lamented, but gave him her hand anyways. He shook it, as if she were a man; an equal, and Genevieve pulled away at the unexpected grasp. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, she just hadn't expected it, was all.

"I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but…" Rubbing her hand awkwardly, she looked down at the ground.

"Je m'appelle Marquis de Lafayette. Et toi, ma petite lionne?"⑶ Lafayette asked her, stepping forward. Genevieve snorted in response.

"Call me yours again and I'll show you how much of a "lionne" I can be, Lafayette, sir." She held out her hand, but unlike Mr. Laurens, Lafayette kissed the back of it. The two other men were now standing nearby. The one who should have been the one apologizing was staring at the ground sourly. Instead, the man who had stopped Genevieve earlier stepped forward and gave a little bow.

"Hello. I'm Hercules Mulligan, at your service," he said, not taking her hand at all. He had a pleasant smile, which she returned. Then, finally, she looked at the fourth man. He was shorter than Genevieve, but not by much.

When he didn't say a word, she began to wave her fan again, feeling awkward just standing there. She turned back to the three decidedly more friendly men instead.

"Well, then! My name is Genevieve Summerton, daughter of Lord and Lady Summerton" Genevieve then turned to Marquis de Lafayette. "Merci pour les excuses. It wasn't you I'd expect an apology from, though." But I will have to be the better man, or woman, regardless. Swallowing her pride she looked at the man whom had begun the whole unsightly delay and said, "I'm sorry for any offense I may have caused you. Now, if you'll excuse me, good day sirs." Genevieve turned, glad to wipe her hands of this whole affair, when she felt an unwanted hand on her shoulder. Again.

"Wait." She did. "I'm sorry for insulting you. Even if you deserved it," he muttered, looking still at the ground. She raised an eyebrow.

"Alexander!" Mr. Laurens said grabbing the arm of his friends coat. Genevieve frowned in disapproval, realizing that she would have to be the better man. Or, woman, as the case may be.

"Well. I accept you apology 'Alexander'. As much as you don't deserve it." And with that, she turned away, going to find her sisters and put this whole thing behind her.

⑴ "Apologize for-" (Excuser pour)

⑵"Why?! We apologized, right? I don't understand!"

"I do not owe you an explanation."

"You speak French?"

"Yes. I speak a little."

⑶"My name is Marquis de Lafayette. And you, my little lioness?"

~Mademoiselle basically means a young lady / Is used for unmarried women, I believe, unless you're trying to flirt with an older woman. ;D /

Wooh! It took me a wile to get this chapter up! It would've taken much longer if not for my amazing Beta, anjumstar, helping me edit everything! I hoped you enjoyed. I know it's not totally historically accurate, but I tried! (Also for the sake of story telling some things needed to change a bit~!) I'm already working on chapter two, so hopefully that won't take long!

-Amaterasu