Nonetheless, she dashed into the bedroom to peer into the full-length mirror that stood in a corner by the bureau. Sure enough, her thick, titian hair looked untamed and untended. Bliss found her brush and groomed the tresses with a thoroughness born of pride.

Following that, she started a bath running in the magnificent tub hidden behind the screen, then took her splendid new evening gowns from their tissue-lined boxes and spread them out on the bed. The choice was easier than she had expected: she selected the midnight-blue silk, with its beautifully smocked bodice. Tiny azure beads trimmed the full skirt, winking in the fading light.

Her mind spinning at all the evening might hold, Bliss braided her hair into a single plait and wound it into a coronet atop her head in order to keep it reasonably dry. Then, after gleefully stripping away her clothes, she plunged into a hot bath. Just for tonight, she decided, she would not think about the temporary nature of her marriage or Jamie’s fondness for Peony Ryan. For this one evening, she would permit herself to enjoy playing Cinderella.

Heaven knew, she would be back to the pumpkins and mice of reality soon enough.

Bliss took great care with her appearance that night, and more than once she wished for rice powder, rouge for her lips and cheeks, and perfume. Despite the time she spent with her brush and comb, she still looked like a country girl with her hair up.

And it was thus that Jamie found her, wearing only her new pink satin drawers and camisole, both trimmed in the finest écru lace and fitted with tiny pearl buttons.

He was dressed for evening, and he looked so splendid that Bliss’s breath was fairly taken away. She gaped at his snow-white shirt, his crisp black trousers with their perfect crease, his dashing cutaway coat with tails.

“My stars and garters,” she whispered. “You’re God’s own wonder, Jamie McKenna!”

Jamie was staring himself, and Bliss’s compliment did nothing to jar him out of his stupor. Finally, he muttered something that sounded like, “Hollyberry, rather be God,” and shook his head as though dazed.

“I didn’t put on my dress because I knew I wouldn’t be able to do up all those buttons,” Bliss announced with bright innocence.

Jamie’s Adam’s apple moved up and down his throat like a lift traveling between floors. “Aye,” he managed to croak out. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” He stood rooted to the floor like a kauri tree, for all that, and Bliss had to walk over to him, once she’d wriggled into her dress, and turn her back so that he could fasten the buttons.

His fingers, usually so deft, were awkward and slow.

She finally turned, when he’d progressed about midway up her back, and demanded, “What on earth is troubling you, Mr. McKenna?”

A smile ignited blue fires in Jamie’s eyes before progressing to his mouth. “What indeed?” he countered gruffly. “Tell me, Mrs. McKenna, just ’ow fond of opera are you?”