With Mary—after a careful consideration of the ambient danger—right at her heels.

And so they became a foursome. Three wild children and one voice of reason.

They did listen to Mary occasionally. Truly, they did. It was probably the only reason all four had reached adulthood without permanent injury.

But like all good things, it came to an end, and a few years after both Edward and Andrew left home, Mary had fallen in love, got married, and moved away. She and Billie exchanged letters regularly, but it wasn’t the same. Still, Billie would always call Mary her best friend, and thus, when she found herself at Crake House with a sprained ankle and nothing to wear but men’s breeches and a rather dusty shirt and coat, she had no compunction raiding her friend’s wardrobe for a garment suitable for a family dinner. Most of the dresses were a few years out of fashion, but that didn’t bother Billie. In all truth, she likely wouldn’t have even noticed if the maid who was helping her to dress for dinner hadn’t apologized for it.

And they were certainly more stylish than anything she possessed in her own closet.

Billie rather thought that the bigger problem was the length, or rather, the excess of it. Mary was taller than she was, by at least three inches. It had always irked Billie (and amused Mary) to no end; it had always seemed like she should be the taller of the two. But as Billie couldn’t even walk, this was less of an issue than it might have been.

Mary’s gowns were also a bit too large in the chest. But beggars could never be choosers, and so Billie tucked two extra fichus into the bodice and decided instead to be grateful that Mary’s wardrobe had contained a relatively simple round gown in a shade of forest green that Billie liked to think flattered her complexion.

The maid was tucking a few final pins into Billie’s hair when a knock sounded on the door to Mary’s old room, where Billie had taken up residence.

“George,” she said with surprise when she saw his strong form filling the doorway. He was elegantly dressed in a midnight blue coat that she suspected would complement his eyes if he wore it in the full light of day. Gold buttons twinkled in the candlelight, adding to his already regal mien.

“My lady,” he murmured, executing a small bow. “I’ve come to help you down to the drawing room.”

“Oh.” Billie wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Andrew couldn’t very well do it, and her father, who was surely already downstairs, wasn’t as strong as he used to be.

“If you prefer,” George said, “we could summon a footman.”

“No, no, of course not,” Billie replied. A footman seemed most awkward. At least she knew George. And he had already carried her once.

He came into the room, clasping his hands behind his back when he reached her side. “How is your ankle?”