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The Schuyler mansion was filled with lively music. A large fire burned brightly in the hearth, lending its warmth to the room as men of the Continental army came in. The party was to be a grand occasion, and a much-needed rest for the soldiers.
Elizabeth Schuyler stood near the side of the room, beside one of the windows. Outside, snow fell from the dark sky; a stark contrast to the golden glow from inside the house. Each time the door opened to admit a new guest, a cold gust of wind would come in; it was both chilling, and refreshing.
“Eliza!” Angelica—her oldest sister—caught her arm and smiled. “Why don't you join me?”
“Join you in flirting with every young man you meet? Angelica, you are cruel giving them hope to win your hand when there is none. I think I'll stay here. It's less crowded anyway.”
“Very well, if you insist. Just try to enjoy yourself a little.”
“I will.” Eliza gave Angelica a gentle nudge. “Your audience is missing you.”
With a carefree laugh, Angelica turned and rejoined the swiftly-growing crowd. Even Peggy was mingling with the uniformed guests. Eliza couldn't do it. She couldn't push away the reality that in a few days, these men would leave and go back to fighting. Many would not survive the war. No. Eliza could never get attached to a soldier.
Turning her attention back to the window, Eliza watched snowflakes drift gently down. It was peaceful, and helped take her mind off the war. Her sisters could manage entertaining their guests well enough without her.
“Pardon me, Miss?”
Eliza spun, looking away from “her” window to see a young man in a clean, well-kept, blue uniform. He was thin and pale, but his bright blue eyes shone with a keen light—there was so much life there. Before Eliza could speak, the man continued.
“God would smite me terribly if I didn't tell you how beautiful you are.” He bowed, taking her hand and kissing it. When he straightened again, he was smiling at her.
Eliza felt her cheeks flush. Whatever happened to not falling for a soldier? “Elizabeth Schuyler,” she introduced herself.
“Alexander Hamilton.” He flashed that smile at her again.
The word charming came to mind. How had she missed him? Eliza didn't recall seeing him come in. “Thank you for your service.” She was too polite to forget her manners—even when flustered.
“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”
For the first time in her life, Eliza felt butterflies. At least, that's what Angelica told her it would feel like; the tingling sensation of common sense leaving your body. “You are too kind, I think.”
“I think not.”
A few other men—likely friends of his—strode by. One let out a howl like a wolf, and winked at Alexander. In response, Hamilton shooed them away with a wave and turned sheepishly back to Eliza. Their actions seemed to embarrass him; his cheeks went red noticeably against nearly-white skin. “They have no idea how to act in pleasant company.”
“And you keep them in line?”
Alexander laughed. “God knows I try.”
Now that she was standing so close to him, Eliza couldn't help but notice he had freckles; just a few. And there—she was blushing again. She listened as Alexander talked. He was brilliant. It was as if he saw the world as an opportunity that he simply couldn't pass up. The longer he talked, the more Eliza hung on his every word.
So much for her promise to never fall for a soldier.