It was only five o’clock and still pitch dark as Betsy and the other kitchen staff quietly dressed, then tiptoed from the dormitory. Caroline burrowed deeper into her mattress in hope of finding a little more rest.

It was not to be. A few minutes later, the patter of light footsteps sounded in the hallway, and the door squeaked open. Betsy tiptoed to Caroline’s bedside and tapped her shoulder. “Caroline, wake up,” she whispered. “Happy birthday.”

Ludmila was still sound asleep, so Caroline kept her voice low as she rolled over to peer at the maid. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

In truth, she had completely forgotten about it, but as of five hours ago, she was twenty-nine years old.

“A gift was delivered for you last night,” Betsy whispered. “Come down to the kitchen and see.”

It must be from Gray. He was the only person likely to remember her birthday, and a tiny niggle of delight stirred inside. She loved presents, even if they were only from her brother.

She quickly pulled on her plainest gown and followed Betsy down the servants’ staircase. The kitchen smelled good, for coffee was already percolating and Mrs. Fitzpatrick was making cinnamon rolls. The counters were filled with food for the day: crates of vegetables, stacks of bread, chickens soon to be plucked, and a bowl of eggs.

“Something arrived for me?” she asked Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

The cook nodded to the far side of the kitchen where a basket overflowing with artichokes sat on the staff dining table. Caroline stood in dazed amazement, then walked over to it, still not believing her eyes.

A card rested atop the mound of artichokes, reading simply, Happy Birthday, Caroline.

Luke was the only person who ever gave her artichokes, and her fingers trembled as she picked up the card. There was no signature or return address. The message was typed, so she couldn’t even study the handwriting.

“You adorable fool,” she whispered.

“Who sent it?” Mrs. Fitzpatrick asked.

Luke. He was the only person she could imagine doing such a thing, but she could hardly say so.

“I have no idea,” she finally responded. It seemed impossible, but every instinct told her that Luke had somehow pulled this off. Maybe he had worked through Gray, who knew about Luke’s tradition of giving her artichokes on their shared birthday. But if Gray was responsible for this, he would have signed the card.

She turned it over, and to her surprise, there was another typed message. Look for a better gift on November 15.

That was odd. November 15th didn’t have any special significance for her, and it was almost a month away. Could she expect another midnight delivery?