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door.
    “Come in.”
    Maeve slipped quickly into the room. Pansy sat at the vanity brushing her long, rust-colored hair. When she saw Maeve’s form reflected in the mirror, she turned with a great, broad smile. “There you are at last! I had given up hope.”
    Unbuttoning her coat, Maeve stepped forward. “I cannot stay.”
    “What do you mean? Mother is furious.” Pansy always added more drama to a situation. She longed to be an actress although such a profession was not at all suitable for one of her class.
    “Sure’n I’m sorry, Miss.”
    Maeve was uncertain how it had happened but she and Pansy had become more than servant and mistress. They were friends. She suspected it had something to do with the fact they were only one year apart in age. Maeve was nineteen and Pansy twenty. The free-spirited redhead constantly rebelled against the strictures that her parents and society presented her.
    Pansy rose and crossed the room to where Maeve stood in anxious indecision. Slender and of average height, the only Deakins child possessed remarkable hazel eyes. The changing colors made Maeve think the good Lord could not make up his mind whether Pansy’s eyes should be green or brown.
    The light of curiosity danced in them now. “What happened to delay you?”
    Shaking her head, Maeve hurried to the window and swept back the lace curtains. “Has Mr. Charles Rycroft been here yet?”
    “Rycroft? Heavens, no! What would he be doing here?”
    “He was supposed to tell ye that I wasn’t coming to work today. Or tomorrow. Or...” Maeve could not finish. Her throat closed as unbidden tears streamed down her cheeks.
    “Rycroft was to deliver this message?”
    Swiping at her tears, Maeve nodded to Pansy. “Yes.”
    Her socialite friend seized her hands. “Why? And why are you crying?”
    “My hu...hu...husband has regained his memory,” she stuttered through her tears.
    “Maeve! What secrets have you been keeping from me? I didn’t know you were married. You never said!”
    “Several days ago. It, it was quite sudden.” Fresh tears spilled from her eyes.
    “Oh, my.” Much to Maeve’s chagrin, Pansy didn’t believe in marriage. She advocated free love since forming an admiration for Victoria Woodhull.
    “And now my husband does not remember marrying me.”
    “Oh, dear!”
    “Ye haven’t heard the worst”
    Pansy’s lips rounded and her eyes brightened. “Come sit with me.” After leading Maeve to the striped satin chaise, she sat down and patted the spot beside her. “Tell me everything.”
    “He’s...one of you.”
    “One of me? You are not making sense, Maeve.”
    “Charles Rycroft. That’s me husband.”
    “Charles Rycroft!” Pansy repeated in astonishment.
    “What am I to do?”
    “Charles Rycroft?” Pansy asked again, her eyes wide with disbelief. “No!”
    “Yes.”
    To Maeve’s surprise, her friend giggled. “The mothers of Boston’s finest young ladies have been after Rycroft for at least a half dozen years. Including my own dear mama.”
    Maeve readily understood. “Charles is exceedingly handsome in his own way.”
    Pansy did not comment, she only grinned. “How did you manage it? To many him?”
    “Me brother Shea accused him of compromising me when Mr. Rycroft wasn’t quite himself. Shea forced me upon him when Charles could not say nay.”
    Pansy could barely contain herself. “This is famous!”
    “Charles wants to annul the marriage but it’s been—”
    “Oh, don’t tell me!”
    “Consummated.”
    “Consummated!” Pansy repeated, jumping up with a clap of her hands. She regarded Maeve fondly. “Who but you would ever say the word aloud?”
    “I’m only sayin’ what is true.”
    Pansy’s eyes twinkled with unabashed glee. “You will never have to work again. You will never have to tie my corset nor pack my trunks.”
    “Ye are a good mistress, I do not mind.”
    “If Charles Rycroft wants an annulment he will be willing to settle on you,” Pansy