Frankie flung open the window of her room, relishing the blast of cold. Mr. Everett had lied to her. He had listened to her reveal her most private pain at being maligned for not being able to find her husband, and even her aunt’s desire to connect her to Sir John, and all the while he was laughing up his sleeve. Sir John Everett. A man she hoped to never see again.

She looked up at the night sky. There were no stars now, just heavy cloud and the pervasive coal smoke that hung heavy over London. She wished she could just disappear. She not only never wanted to see Sir John again, but wished to avoid her family as well, and their inevitable expressions of sympathy. The only thing worse to being pitiful was being pitied.

The letter on her dresser caught her eye and she remembered her great uncle was leaving London early the next day to travel to Germany. He had even made a brief appearance at the ball, but had left early, needing to prepare for his journey. If he was leaving tomorrow, then so was she. She'd had enough. There was nothing more to wait for.

Frankie dragged her trunk out from underneath the bed. She felt numb as she began to pull her gowns out of the wardrobe to pack the trunk. She thought perhaps she should cry, but she went through the motions mechanically, unable to feel any emotion.

She needed to leave early, not only to catch her uncle before he sailed, but also so she could sneak away before anyone could prevent her from leaving. It would be better this way. She would leave a letter explaining that she wished to become a governess and thank her aunt and uncle for everything that they had done for her. It was a shabby way to treat her aunt, but it could not be helped.

“What are you doing?” A maid stood in the open doorway. Frankie had not even heard her open the door.

“I… I was just organizing a few things.”

“Looks like you're packing a few things.”

Frankie sighed. “Yes, as you see I am packing. I will be leaving tomorrow, but please do not say anything to Lady Devine. It would just upset her and I would not do that to her tonight.”

The maid frowned but gave her a small curtsy. “As you wish, miss. I won't mention this to Lady Devine.” She backed out of the room with critical eyes and shut the door.

Frankie took a deep breath. She should have known they would have sent somebody to check on her. She closed to the trunk and shoved it back under the bed. She didn’t dare risk continuing the process now. She would have to wait until everyone retired and then wake up before dawn to pack.

She pulled out the jeweled pins of her elaborate hairstyle one by one. It was one of the prettiest coiffeurs she'd ever had. Tears formed in her eyes as unpinned her hair, letting it fall free. She grabbed the brush and ruthlessly brushed through her thick brown hair, which cascaded down to her waist. The gown would have to wait until the party ended and her maid reappeared to help her remove it. The evening dress was so custom fit she had been sewed into it.

She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, listening to the revelry below and willing herself to sleep. Despite the embarrassment of being humiliated by Everett and Priscilla and the weight of her decision to leave, or perhaps because of it, she drifted off, until she was awakened by a loud bang.

The door to her room slammed open and in ran Jemmy, not stopping until she skidded to a halt by the bed, clutching at her arm.

“Come quick, come quick!” Jemmy leaned over at the waist, breathing heavily.

“Oh my goodness, Jemmy,” cried Frankie, jumping to her feet. “What is the matter? Is something wrong with Uncle Grant or Genie?” Frankie slipped on her shoes to run across the street to where her uncle lived.

“No, no it's not Grant, it's the boy, Georgie. He's missing again. They say you're the only one who can find him.”

“Why Jemmy, I cannot go to the school at night. I found him under the altar at the church next to the school. They can look there for him. How do you know that he's missing?”

Jemmy looked up at her with wide eyes and blinked. “How’s I know? Because… because one of them book learners went looking for him and he was gone and she told lamplighter and lamplighter told the ragpicker and the ragpicker told cook and cook told me and then I ran over to tell Grant and Grant said he was getting his coat and I needed to get you ‘cause he's gonna fetch you so you can find him because you're the only one who can!”

“Mr. Grant said that?”

“I most certainly did.” Grant strolled into her room followed by Mr. Everett. Frankie's heart sank at the sight of the one man she dreaded ever seeing again. “No time to lose, must go now.”

“But I cannot go now. The party. I was going to bed.” Frankie realized those two statements did not necessarily make sense but she could not think of what else to say. Music from the ball wafted up from below and clearly the party was still in full attendance.

“No time for that now, a child's life hangs in the balance. You and Mr. Everett gained his trust last time so it is imperative, imperative I say, you must go now.” Grant held out her wool coat and she mechanically put it on.

“But my hair.”

“It's lovely. Very fine. Must go now.”

Before she knew what was happening. Grant let her down the servant’s stairs to the side of the house where his coach was waiting and handed her into the vehicle. Mr. Everett followed, sitting beside her.

“But Aunt Hilde. I cannot leave without telling her or getting her permission,” argued Frankie.

“Yes, yes. Quite forgot. So true. You run ahead and I'll tell Hilde where we've gone.”

“But I can't go,” she continued to object.

“Be along directly. Off now.” Grant slammed the door of the carriage closed, gave the command to the coachman, and with a jerk they were off.

Frankie stared at Mr. Everett…Sir John Everett to be exact. In the pale lantern light of coach his face revealed nothing but surprise. Whatever was going on, he looked just as shocked to be in the coach as she felt.

Everett opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and brushed his hair out of his eyes, which immediately fell back to its accustomed place. “Frankie…” She opened her mouth to correct him but he amended himself before she got the chance. “Miss Devine, please let me say again how sorry I am for misleading you.”

“It does not matter now.”

“But it does. I did not wish to harm you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“But you did.” Frankie turned away, her hair falling across her face, making her realize she was sitting unsupervised with her hair loose in the coach at night with one of the most eligible bachelors in London.

She quickly started to braid her long, thick hair, trying to make herself more presentable. “I swear if Grant has tricked me I will never forgive him.”

“You think Mr. Grant has deceived us? He was adamant a little boy's life was in peril.”

“His life will be in peril if he has hoodwinked me into this carriage.” She wrapped the braid into a knot at the nape of her neck and found a few pins in the pocket of her coat to keep it in place.

“I liked it better down,” said Everett softly.

She turned to Everett, expecting to see mockery but instead his expression was open, his eyes sincere.

“Not the thing to be found alone in a coach with a girl with her hair down. You ought to be more careful Mr. Everett. I'm sorry, I mean Sir John. You will be trapped into marriage before the week is out.”

“Trapped?” His eyebrows rose in alarm.

“Yes, trapped. I am only saying this for your own good. Fortunately for you I am not the kind of lady that would trap somebody into marriage. No matter what dirty tricks my uncle may be playing, I have no intention of marrying you.”

“No intention?”

“None at all,” said Frankie primly.

“Thank you for making your position clear.” Everett took a breath. “I'm not sure why Grant wished us to be here together, but since we are please allow me an opportunity to explain myself.”

“There is no need.” Frankie folded her arms before her.

“Yes, there is. As a general rule, I abhor deception and I feel wretched that you were deceived about my true identity. It was an abominable thing to do. But everything I told you about myself is the truth. My family, though respectable, had little income and other than a great uncle once removed with a knighthood, my connections were few. I was sent to school on scholarship, and the other lads never let me forget it. After school, I went into the Navy and then served with Captain Darington.”

“Yes, I have heard all the talk of how Sir John sailed with Lord Darington as a privateer, making enough to purchase his own ship and becoming a rich man in his own right. You are quite the focus of society gossip and a prized matrimonial catch.”

“So I have been led to understand.” Everett looked down, shaking his head. “When I came to London to visit Darington, the same people who shunned my company when I was poor now sought my acquaintance. Maybe they thought so little of me back then that they honestly forgot how shabbily they treated me. I fear I became distrusting and jaded that anyone who appeared to enjoy my company was only doing so because of my new found title and wealth.”

“Is that what you thought of me?” Frankie gasped.

“No, not at all. When I first met you, I thought your uncle would have told you who I was. When it later became clear to me that you did not know, I confess I didn’t correct your misassumption because it gave me an opportunity to talk to someone, a very pretty someone I must add, in a manner that was true. I knew you were not pretending to enjoy my presence because of a new title and a bit of wealth.”

Frankie turned toward him, putting her hand between them on the velvet squab to steady herself with the rocking of the coach traveling over the cobblestones. She gave him her coldest glare. “I would never do that.”

“Yes, I know.” He placed his warm harm over hers. “Your hand is like ice.”

She snatched her hand away. “Grant pushed me out of the house before I had a chance to even grab my gloves.”

He held out his warm hand. “Please?”

She hesitated, but her hands were so cold they were beginning to ache, and his hands were soothingly warm. Motivated solely by the desire to not lose a finger to frostbite, she placed her hands in his. He engulfed her cold, numb hands in his, rough and callused but also warm and strong.

“I did not know that you were ignorant as to my identity until the second time we met when you started talking about that awful Sir John,” he continued to explain.

“Why did you not correct my mistake immediately?”

“I should have. But I knew if I revealed myself to you then you would leave. I confess I was enjoying our conversation so much that I lost my nerve and I didn't tell you, and I should have.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“But can you honestly tell me if I had let you know at that moment that I was Sir John that you would have continued to speak with me? Or would you have simply said your farewells and left, never wanting to see me again.”

“You are right,” Frankie admitted. “I would have left immediately.”

“I simply wanted to watch the pageant together. Afterward, I tried to tell you, but I didn’t want to ruin the evening by seeing your disappointment at discovering who I am. Though I know it was wrong, I have a hard time regretting it, because I did enjoy your company so much. The next day I knew I needed to tell you the truth, so I came to the house, but you wouldn't see me.”

As her hands were gradually warmed in his, so her heart gradually melted toward him. “I suppose it was unkind of me to pretend an illness to avoid your company, though I hardly knew it was you.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

The carriage rolled to a stop and Frankie ignored his question, opening the door. “Well, let's get this over with.” Frankie looked around as she hopped out of the coach, not waiting for the coachman or Everett to hand her down. “I half expected someone to be here to find us emerging out of the coach together and demand the satisfaction of an immediate proposal.”

Everett followed her out, looking a bit pale. He also looked around with some trepidation as if nervous one or two of her relatives were going to jump out of the bushes. “It seems we are alone,” he said with some relief.

“Ah well, the night is still young. But don't you worry, Sir John, nothing in this world will ever convince me to entrap you into marriage.”

“Nothing?” He sounded disappointed.

“Nothing.”