“Don’t forget your flowers, my lady,” Dorothy said, and gathered up the small posies. She held up the bobbing blooms, her faded eyes darting from Julia to me, then back again. A decision made. “Don’t know if this ’elps,” she said slowly, “but I ’ave seen somethin’ time to time that struck me as another kind of odd: a handcart pushed by two men comin’ and goin’ from that yard. In the wee hours. Only stays for a short while. Looks like a delivery cart, but it goes in empty.”

“Do they bring something out?” Julia asked, taking the flowers.

I glanced at my sister: Like, for instance, a brutalized girl?

Julia quirked her mouth: Exactly.

Dorothy shook her head. “Never seen nothin’ in it. Goin’ in or out.” She shrugged. “Always empty. Thought it was odd, ay?”

An empty cart. Odd, indeed.

11

The following afternoon, I viewed myself in my dressing room mirror with a critical eye. I had worn men’s clothes before, but they had been my father’s and of excellent cut and cloth. This ensemble was baggy in unusual places, and the cloth was only a step or two away from threadbare. Still, the excessive wear had made them unusually soft, and once again, I reveled in the ease of breeches.

“What do you think?” I asked Julia and Tully, my maid.

“Rather good,” Julia said from her seat upon the chaise. “But you must not forget to glue on your side-whiskers.”

I nodded at the reminder as my maid walked around me to view the whole of the ensemble. She was now practiced in voicing her opinion about my disguises and had, in fact, bought the secondhand men’s clothes we were now appraising.

“The shirt and breeches are probably cleaner than what would be worn by one of the lower ranks, my lady, but I figured you didn’t want me to buy any that were infested with lice or fleas.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Absolutely not. We do not have to strive for that much authenticity.”

“Perhaps I could take the neckerchief and dirty it up a little,” Tully said. “The coat hides the cleanliness of the breeches, I think, since it is patched and of a drab color.” She narrowed her eyes in further evaluation. “The hat is an excellent shambles, but we must oil your hair and make it less…done.”

“Then, let’s to it,” I said, untying the neckerchief and passing it to my maid. “I must be away before sundown.”

Tully curtsied and left the room on her errand.

“Miss Grant is pressing me to find a solution to their situation,” Julia said.

I looked up from smoothing my jacket collar. “She has said nothing to me.”