“I do love your American accent!” Rosalind trilled, beaming. “And yes, Harry and I have known Duncan for some years. We have shares in several of his opal mines.”

Maggie nodded numbly. Even though she’d spent some time in England, she had never been within touching distance of a bona fide member of the gentry, and she was a little overwhelmed.

“You’ll enjoy dining at Government House,” Rosalind went on after taking a breath. “And or course there are the boat races in the harbor and there will be quite a celebration in June, when Her Majesty’s Jubilee—”

Maggie found her voice. “I’m really only a governess,” she pointed out, meaning to imply that she would probably not be included in events the gentry would be enjoying.

Rosalind peered at Maggie with narrowed blue eyes, looking honestly puzzled. “A governess? Why, Harry and I both had the impression that—oh, never mind.”

Maggie stiffened in her seat, her hands clasped together in her lap. “What impression did you have, please?” she asked with quiet insistence.

“Well, since you’re so pretty, and you’re an American and everything—well, we did think that Duncan might be planning to—to marry you.”

Maggie drew in such a quick breath that she nearly choked on it. “I’m a governess,” she repeated when she could trust herself to speak. “And I’m also to serve as a hostess of some sort.”

Rosalind assessed Maggie with wry friendliness. “Well, well, well. A hostess, is it? I thought Duncan was buying you a trousseau.”

Maggie leaned forward slightly in her seat, keeping her voice to a whisper even though she knew that no one could possibly overhear. “It is—well—proper, isn’t it? My serving as Mr. Kirk’s hostess?”

Rosalind giggled. “Of course it’s proper. That clever Duncan—if you were anything besides a hostess or a governess, he’d have to have a chaperon in the house!”

Maggie was hardly comforted by this remark. “You don’t mean that Mr. Kirk might have—have designs on me, do you?”

Rosalind’s pretty blue eyes danced. “My dear, Duncan has designs on all of us,” she said.

Maggie groaned and sank back in her seat, her eyes closed, and Rosalind reached over to give her hand a pat that was undoubtedly meant to be reassuring.

“Duncan is a gentleman,” she said.

Maggie remembered the green fire in Duncan Kirk’s eyes when he’d laid down the law in his study only a few hours before, and she wondered whether Rosalind Simmons knew what she was talking about.

For the rest of the afternoon she followed the energetic young duchess from one shop to another. Several gowns were bought ready-made, while dozens more were ordered. Shoes were selected, as well as handbags for both daytime and evening; parasols and perfumes were bought. Maggie estimated the cost of this expedition and developed yet another headache.