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that,” one of them said wistfully. “It sounds pretty.”
    Mrs. Plunkett chuckled and motioned for them to return to work. “Time for gossip later. Hannah, finish those carrots. And Polly, mind you keep stirring that sauce, or it will be nothing but lumps.”
     
    Luke and Emma sat alone at the linen-covered dining table. The blaze in the marble fireplace cast a warm glow over the Flemish tapestries and the marble carvings on the walls. A servant came to fill Emma's glass with water and Luke's with French wine. The butler uncovered dishes at the sideboard and ladled a fragrant broth with truffles into shallow bowls.
    Luke regarded his daughter with a smile. “It always worries me when you look so pleased, Emma. I hope you're not planning to torment the new governess as you did the last one.”
    “Oh, not at all. She's much better than Miss Cawley.”
    “Well,” he said casually, “I suppose anyone would be preferable to Miss Cawley.”
    Emma giggled. “That's true. But I like Miss Billings.”
    His eyebrows lifted. “You don't think she's too serious?”
    “Oh, no. I can tell that underneath she wants to laugh.”
    Luke thought of Miss Billings's implacable face. “Somehow I didn't have that impression of her,” he muttered.
    “Miss Billings is going to teach me all about etiquette and propriety, and everything. She says we don't always have to study in the schoolroom upstairs. I can learn just as well if we take our books outside and read under a tree. We're going to read about the ancient Romans tomorrow, and after that we're to speak nothing but French until supper. I'm just warning you, Papa, because if you ask me something after four o'clock tomorrow, I shall be compelled to reply in a language you don't understand.”
    He gave her a sardonic glance. “I speak French.”
    “ Used to,” Emma countered triumphantly. “Miss Billings says if a language isn't practiced frequently, one loses it in no time at all.”
    Luke set down his spoon, wondering what kind of an act the governess was putting on for his daughter. Perhaps she was trying to befriend Emma so that when it came time to leave, she could use his daughter's feelings as a weapon against him. He didn't like it. Karen Billings had better watch her step carefully, or he would make her rue the day she was born. Only a month, he reminded himself, keeping his temper under tight rein. “Emma, don't become too attached to Miss Billings. She may not be with us for very long.”
    “Why not?”
    “Any number of things could happen. She may not do an adequate job of teaching you. Or she may decide to accept another position.” He took a sip of wine. “Just keep it in mind.”
    “But if I want her to stay, she will,” Emma said stubbornly.
    Luke didn't reply, only picked up his spoon and dipped it in his soup. After a minute, he changed the subject and began to tell her about a thoroughbred horse he was thinking of buying. Emma followed his lead, carefully avoiding any mention of the governess for the rest of the meal.
     
    Tasia wandered about her room, a third-floor chamber with a charming round window. She was pleased by the thought that the sun would wake her each morning. The narrow bed was covered with fresh white linen and a simple quilted blanket. There was a mahogany washstand in the corner, with a chipped porcelain basin decorated in a flowered blackberry pattern. Near the window were a chair and table, and on the opposite wall a battered armoire with an oval mirror on the door. The room was small, but clean and private.
    Her valise had been set by the bed. Carefully Tasia unpacked the hairbrush and the cakes of rose-scented soap that Alicia had given her. It was also because of Alicia that she owned two dresses: the gray one that she was wearing and a black muslin that she hung in the armoire. She wore her grandmother's gold cross under her clothes at all times. The ring from her father was knotted in a handkerchief and hidden at the back of