Mutton chops, braised carrots, fresh bread, and a raisin pudding for dessert. The work occupies me all afternoon. I am elbow-deep in soapsuds doing the washing up when Father enters the kitchen and instructs me to leave the pots and pans as they are, bathe, and change into fresh clothes. “You might want to put on something pretty,” he adds. As if I had a wardrobe of party frocks to choose from! Whatever could he mean?

In spite of my dark mood I grow curious. Surely Father would not make such a request if our guest were the likes of Tobias Pratt? I wonder if the duke himself might be paying a call, though for what purpose I cannot imagine. I have heard no hunters’ guns today.

I follow Father’s instruction as best I can. There is a light muslin dress in my closet that was my mother’s, with a smocked bodice and delicate embroidery at the hem and sleeve cuffs. The last time I tried it on, it dragged on the floor and was loose in the bodice, but now it seems to fit me well. I braid my damp hair and find a ribbon to tie around it. Even I scarcely recognize the womanly creature who gazes back at me from the mirror.

See? A memory croons in my ear. Can you see how beautiful you are?

The thought paints sudden color on my cheeks. Now I have no need of rouge; the heat of shame has provided the finishing touch to my toilette.

I enter the parlor, embarrassed to be seen in my mother’s clothes. To my surprise Father himself has set the table, not with our everyday dishes, but with the fine gold-rimmed porcelain ones that were his and Mama’s wedding china.

And—my heart skips a beat at the sight—Weed is there. Freshly bathed, dressed in a crisp white shirt, dark trousers, and Father’s best jacket, with a scarlet silk lining. Even Father has changed shirts, and an ebony silk tie shines at his throat.

In this way the three of us, dressed as if it were Christmas Day, stand stupefied as mannequins. “Is it the duke who is coming?” I finally ask, unable to stay silent. “It must be; why else all this fuss, Father?”

Father laughs, deep and hearty. “Children,” he says, extending his hands to both of us. “This feast is for you.”