the door before she decides I am not at home. Put on that dress, please.”
I glance at the gown, but he’s pointing at the blue-and-white dress I wore the other day, now draped over a chair.
“I thought—” I begin, looking at the copper ballgown.
“That dress.” Another point at the other dress, and he’s gone.
I quickly change into the blue-and-white dress. I’m still pulling it on when footsteps sound on the stairs. Two sets of them. I grab my sundress and stuff it under the bed. A rap comes at the door.
“Lady Dale? Are you presentable?”
“I am,” I say . . . and it’s only as the door opens that I realize I’m still wearing my sandals . . . and my leather-band watch. I slide the latter off, palming it as William walks in, followed by a plump teenage girl, dressed in a simple gown and bonnet and carrying a basket. When she sees me, she stops short, and I frantically assess as best I can without a mirror. My hair is in a messy bun, suitable enough for the time.
She stops staring and curtseys. I incline my head, and before I can speak, William says, “This is Mary, from the village. She’s come to help you prepare for the evening since your own maid could not accompany you on the trip.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“As I mentioned, Mary, Lady Dale is a childhood friend. I had the pleasure of reuniting with her recently, and she has graciously accepted my invitation to visit. She’s also indulging my very awkward attempt to provide a proper evening’s entertainment, complete with dancing.”
“Yes, my lord,” she says. “I understand.”
“You also understand that I expect discretion. While Lady Dale is indeed a widow, this is still not an entirely appropriate visit, one she makes as a concession to my eccentricities.” His look darkens with warning. “I would not wish to later hear gossip that might give Lady Dale cause to regret her kindness.”
The girl only gives a very adolescent hint of an eye roll. “Yes, my lord. You do overthink the matter if you want my opinion. You could dance with her in the village square, and no tongues would wag.”
“Perhaps, but I have chosen a more discreet path, and I thank you for understanding that. Now, I am off to prepare myself for the evening. I will expect Lady Dale downstairs at”—he checks his watch—“quarter past eight.”
Mary promises I’ll be ready, and William withdraws, shutting the door behind him. A soft mew from the hall. I remember this is the room where the kittens sleep, but when I look, their box has been moved.
I turn to Mary, who seems to be waiting for a proper greeting. I give one and thankfully resist the urge to offer a handshake. She’s looking at me again with that odd expression, the one that has me glancing in the mirror to confirm that nothing betrays my time-traveler status.
“Is everything all right?” I ask. “I know this is an unusual situation, but Lord Thorne really does prefer to stay at home, and I did not think an unescorted visit would be terribly scandalous.” I smile. “I am a widow, after all.”
“You are . . . not what I expected, my lady. That is all.”
My brows rise.
“You are older than I thought you would be,” she says. “You must be nearly thirty.”
I laugh. I have to. She says it with such forthrightness, only coloring slightly as I laugh.
“I meant no offense, my lady,” she adds.
“None taken,” I say. “I am actually flattered if you think I’m only nearing thirty. I believe Lord Thorne mentioned we were childhood friends?”
Her cheeks redden. “Oh, yes. He did. I should have thought . . .” Her gaze sweeps over me appraisingly. “You do not look his age. It must be very fine air in the Americas. Lord Thorne told me you lived there for a time with your late husband.”
“I did,” I say. “Long enough that I acclimated to American life, so you will need to excuse my accent and any odd turns of phrase or manners.”
She nods. “That’s what Lord Thorne told me.”
He’s been clever. It’s no mistake that he’s chosen such a young girl to help me, one who will have little experience with either Americans or women of nobility.
“I will also admit something terribly scandalous,” I say, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I did not leave my lady’s maid at home. I do not actually have one. We didn’t keep one