In the summer of 1775, a strange kind of tension blanketed the American colonies. Blood had already been spilled at Lexington and Concord. Boston was under siege. The Continental Congress had raised an army and chosen George Washington to lead it. But amid the smoke and gunpowder, there was still something deeper smoldering. Hope. Not for victory, not for revolution, but for peace. A very specific kind of peace. The colonists still believed in the idea of a “Patriot King,” a benevolent monarch who would rise above Parliament’s tyranny and deliver justice from on high. That king, they hoped, was George III.

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