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compliments.”
    Jonathan’s features assumed a wounded expression, but his blue eyes were twinkling. “My lady! How can you say so, when I but speak the truth?”
    It certainly was true that the two women looked delightful in their simple traveling costumes. Ellen, her unpowdered fair hair arranged neatly in a tidy pompadour with two long curls hanging down her neck, was wearing a pale blue dimity gown over a yellow quilted petticoat. A dark gray cloak was carried over one arm, and an embroidered etui, which contained her favorite bottle of scent, hung from her waist.
    Beneath the wide brim of her beaver hat, Fancy’s dark hair had been simply tied at the nape of her neck with a wide russet ribbon; a row of delicate blond lace framed the round neck of her striped tobacco brown gown, which was worn over a fawn-colored petticoat. With the knowledge that they would be meeting Jonathan’s mother and older brother for the first time and that she
was
a widow, Fancy thought that she had dressed soberly and sedately this morning. She was happily unaware of how the saucy angle of her hat coupled with her cat-shaped eyes gave her a flirtatious air, or of how the color of her gown brought out the warm golden glow of her skin and the expertly fitted bodice drew attention to her narrow waist and firm little bosom.
    Jonathan certainly wasn’t blind to Fancy’s charms, and he blessed again the caution that had kept him from fully committing himself to Ellen. The idea of a long visit in the Colonies while the Merrivale ladies met his family and friends had been an excellent idea. The ladies intended to stay for several months, and who knew what would happen during that time? Fancy might come to realize that widowhood was not quite as appealing as she had first thought, and as for Ellen . . .
    It was a dangerous line Jonathan trod, delicately wooing one sister while keeping an avaricious eye on the other. Not even to his family had he clarified
which
of the two ladies he intended to marry. His letter home had indicated that a wedding was
possibly
in the wind, but he had not named the lady of his choice. And since his letter had been rather full of details about the baroness, his family might be forgiven for assuming that it was Fancy who was his probable bride. But clever man that he was, he had also managed to cloud the waters by singing Ellen’s praises to the skies. His family, he thought with a smug smile, was no doubt thoroughly confused. And until his actual betrothal, to either Ellen or Fancy, was announced, he intended to keep it that way.
    That Ellen thought herself in love with him could prove a problem if his plans for Fancy came to fruition, but it didn’t worry him overmuch. There were several nice eligible bachelors he could think of who could provide a distraction for her, especially if at the appropriate time, he oh so delicately hinted to Ellen that perhaps they had made a mistake in their feelings for one another.
    His handsome face showing none of his thoughts, with a lovely Merrivale on either side of him, he gazed down at the bustle on the busy wharf below them and asked jovially, “Well, what do you think of the New World, my ladies?”
    “ ’Tis most exciting,” exclaimed Ellen. “I saw an Indian a moment ago.”
    The wharf was busy; carts and wagons of all sizes were loading and unloading; horses neighed and dogs barked, and a babble of conversation and shouts floated on the warm morning air. Several scarlet-coated British soldiers strolled by, as did a plainly garbed Quaker couple, the gentlemanwearing a surtout about his shoulders, his wife’s gown dark and worn with a white bib. A pair of fishermen in knitted red caps and heavy leather sea boots walked jauntily behind the Quaker couple, followed by a water carrier in a speckled patterned waistcoat and an old black felt hat, his back bent under the weight of the heavy wooden buckets he carried on a rod across his shoulders. A shopkeeper, an apron of