After a meal and some chatting to catch up with her family, Francie was upstairs putting her luggage away while Sam sat on the bed.

"Jack is going to be so jealous that I was the one to see you first, but she really will be excited to see you."

"I hope so."

"And you'll like Gideon, I think. He's a bit like your Mr. Burnham."

"Why do you call him my Mr. Burnham?"

Sam looked at her like she was daft. Drat. It probably didn't help that she was mere inches from mooning over him right this very minute. He'd only been gone for a few hours and she could hardly stand it. "All right, fine. How is he like my Mr. Burnham?"

"Tall, dark, and serious."

That made Francie giggle. "I don't think of him as being that serious."

Sam bounced off the bed. "Oh, I think he's quite serious about you."

That was hopefully quite true. Otherwise she'd made some terrible mistakes over the past fortnight.

"Get some rest," Sam said. "We'll go visit Jack in the morning."

"But I need to check on my cousin Phoebe." She'd explained the terrible circumstances to her family over their meal and they'd all expressed their sympathy. "I still don't know if she's all right."

"Which is precisely why we need to go see Jack. She'll rally the Haberdashers and if Phoebe is in any trouble they will solve it."

Francie frowned. "The Haberdashers?"

Sam looked astonished. "You don't know the Haberdashers? You were practically there when it all started."

"No, I have no idea."

"But you were there! You practiced weapons with them and rode horses all day. I remember!"

Francie laughed at her cousin's frustration. "I remember being there too! Yes, I learned to shoot and ride and a few other things. But I don't remember the Haberdashers."

"I thought they were just keeping it a secret from me back then, I didn't realize it was as secret from everybody. Or rather, if it was a secret I would have assumed you were in on it. It's their club. They started a boys club."

"Oh." Their names and preoccupations made a good deal more sense suddenly. "And why did they create a boy's club?"

Sam swished her skirts. "Because they said boys have more fun." Her cousin leaned in conspiratorially. "I don't happen to agree."

Francie had forgotten what fun the Walters sisters could be. Bookish, impulsive Jack and sweet yet impudent Sam. "Wake me up extra early," she told her cousin. "If we're going to surprise Jack with my arrival it might as well be an inconvenient surprise before her morning tea."

Sam clapped her hands. "Yes!"

After her cousin left Francie sat near the window for awhile, staring out. Her life had changed so much in such a short time. She'd lost her home, but had known more comfort since than she had for most of her life. Her parents were gone, but she found that her uncle's family accepted her as readily as they ever did. As though she were one of their own. And she'd found Reggie. She leaned forward to set her arms on the window sill and let her breath fog the chilly glass. He warmed her when she'd only ever known cold. He made her laugh when she'd so long only been serious with others. He'd made her feel a love she'd not known herself capable of. And if he left her without a backward glance she swore to God and all that was holy that she would hunt him down and put another bullet in him.

Sam was as good as her word and was bouncing on Francie's bed at dawn. "Get up, get up! Jack hates mornings. This is going to be glorious."

Although bleary, Francie was glad that at least one cousin shared her devilish humor. "I'm up. Sort of. Barely."

Sam pulled at her hands. "Don't ruin this!"

Francie laughed. "All right! I'm up. How are you dressed already?"

"Excitement! What are you going to wear?" She dug into the armoir. "The blue, the blue, or the... blue?"

"Not the brown?" Francie teased.

"No," Sam said with certainty. "Not the brown."

"Then I think perhaps the blue."

"Oh! I have a dress you might like!"

When her cousin sprinted from the room Francie had to decide whether she would try to get two more seconds of sleep or get up. Getting up seemed like the better course. Sam returned with a lovely white gown trimmed in charming little embroidered forget-me-nots.

"Oh, Sam. I couldn't possibly wear this."

"You," she said, "are going to see a countess this morning. Yes," she added, rolling her eyes, "it's also Jack and we're going to give her the worst time we can come up with. But she's also a countess. You should dress to impress."

Francie laughed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! Now let's get you in it and get on the road! The horses have been hitched for at least fifteen minutes now."

"Oh! I didn't know!"

Francie hurried into the dress with her cousin's assistance. She put on her new half-boots and blue pelisse and rushed out the door like the madwoman she was.

 

***

 

Reggie had purposefully not come home until the wee hours when he was sure everyone would be abed. The nighttime footman had let him in the back door, and he'd snuck upstairs to his room like some sort of thief. But he thought it would be better to try to rejoin his family in the morning when they were all sleepy, rather than in the afternoon when they had their wits about them. He certainly didn't have his wits about him, so it made it an unfair fight. Now he was the first one down to the breakfast table. To a certain extent that demonstrated his nervousness. On the other hand, he had almost two weeks of terrible breakfasts to make up for. He piled his plate with three types of meat and considered just sitting in front of the chaffing dishes rather than having to drag his food over to the table like a civilized person.

Speaking of which, the most civilized person in the household arrived, so he rose to his feet. "Mama."

"Reginald! I'm delighted." Not said, why didn't I know you were here or that you were coming.

"The Navy must have beaten the mail service again, I wrote you before I left Cleadon."

"Well, the mail is like your father. It goes where it wants to in its own time." And he'd arrived in the midst of one of their tiffs. Wonderful. This was certainly not a good time to try to convince them that the seamstress he'd found in Cleadon would be their perfect new daughter. It was times like these that he couldn't entirely regret being pressed into the Navy. He understood the Navy. He liked the Navy. He felt like a respected man there rather than an underfoot child.

"It's good that you're here, though," she continued, as though there hadn't been a five minute lull in the conversation while the footmen filled her plate. "You can escort me to the Swindell's ball tonight."

Good God, she would try to matchmake, and all the desperate mamas would try to matchmake, and if he were somehow trapped in a compromising position he could be forced into a marriage he didn't want, and then that would abandon Francie. That couldn't happen. "I can't, mama."

"You can't?" She used the tone he imagined she might if he'd said he was going to join the circus. He loved his mother, he truly did, but she was a trial.

"No," he said firmly, "I can't. And I need to speak to father, is he up yet?"

"Who knows what that man does," she said dismissively. She spooned clotted cream on her toast. "Why can't you go to the ball tonight?"

He felt like he was at the gaming table and playing deep. What to say? Anything he might throw out could be misunderstood, misinterpreted. "I met a girl."

That garnered her attention. "Oh?" she asked, endeavoring to be nonchalant.

"I think she's suitable." Yes, definitely playing deep. "She's a cousin of the Countess of Harington."

"Oh my, what a scandal that was." He'd clearly pushed all his chips in far too early. "Is she a cousin on the mother or father's side?"

"The father's," he answered faintly, afraid of what new piece of information he might overturn.

"Well, that's a blessing. You know I'd not want to be related to a merchant, even with that fancy earl in the bargain."

He needed to make sure Francie knew to never, ever, ever mention her time in the merchant class.

"Is she in Town?"

"Yes. She's at her uncle's house," he cleared his throat. "The countess's father's house."

"Splendid. I will find out what their receiving hours are."

His mother was about to descend on Francie without warning. If Francie survived the ordeal she'd most likely shoot Reggie dead.