On the way home with Malcolm, I stopped at Mrs. Roberta Powers’s milliner’s shop and purchased a royal-blue ribbon. As it was morning now, my plan was to claim I’d gone out early to buy ribbon for Liesje’s wedding. The excuse was thinner than a cat’s whisker, but it was the only one I had. The Holdridges would either believe it, or I’d be ruined.

Pausing at the courtyard gate, I whispered a quick prayer. Malcolm stared straight ahead, avoiding my eyes. A small cut wept blood at his neck where the man had held the knife. Seeing it, my eyes blurred, the full scope of the danger we’d been in hitting me.

Inside the courtyard, Maggie Bowie was pinning bed linens to the clotheslines. She dropped her work and came over to us, anger sizzling in her gaze. She stared at her son for long moments. An eternity. Then she turned to me, taking in my muddy, torn gown. My mussed hair. “I made excuses. I told them I saw you this morning before you left on an errand.”

I exhaled. “Thank you, Maggie. That fits perfectly with—”

“With respect, Miss Emmeline, I did not lie for you. Malcolm is all I have in this world. I’ll thank you to not treat him as a toy that exists for your amusement. The Holdridges are away, but they’ll return soon. I will be waiting in your room. Best hurry. We have much to do.”

She disappeared into the house, leaving me to absorb the sting of her words.

Never had Maggie shown me anything but warmth. Every morning, she brought me tea just how I liked it, then helped me with my toilette, dressing me and curling my hair. Prattling on about who she’d seen at the fish market or in Hanover Square, somehow making the mundane lively and compelling. She loved talking as much as I loved listening to her. I hated that I had upset and disrespected her. I had wronged her just as I’d wronged Malcolm.

Suddenly the meaning of her words dawned on me. “Malcolm, she thinks you and I were—” My cheeks heated with embarrassment. “She thinks we snuck away to—” I couldn’t even say it. Malcolm was strapping. Striking even, with his vibrant green eyes and red hair. I’d seen both men and women baldly ogle him. But even had he not been a servant, I’d always thought of him in a brotherly way. He was too pure. Too good. I only pretended to be.

“Yes. Of course it’s what she assumes.” Red patches bloomed up his neck and over his cheeks. “I will speak to her and see that your virtue is restored in her eyes.”

“No—maybe it’s better this way. The truth is…well, it’s worse.”

He stared at me. “Miss Em, this night should not have happened.”

“I agree—I regret it terribly.”