CHAPTER TWELVE
FEBRUARY 1869
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
“Victoria, you must see this,” James called the morning after we arrived back in New York.
I was still in bed, snuggled beneath the blankets, watching the leaden clouds disgorge a light but steady dusting of snow. I sat up as he entered carrying several newspapers under his arm.
“What? What is it?” I asked as he leaned down to kiss me.
“See for yourself.” He set the papers in my lap.
I wiggled into a sitting position and opened the New York World to a lengthy article about the convention in Washington. I read aloud the part James pointed to, my incredulity increasing with every word. “‘Mrs. Woodhull takes the most lively interest in all the genuine reforms of the day and entertains her own distinctive views. Upon the woman question, I
