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here.” He’d pulled off one of his boots to reveal halfway down a slit in the lining that formed a shallow pocket. “It’s just deep enough.” He put the wafer in, then pulled his boot back on. “I must go my love, but until I return, I’ll carry you with me in my heart”—he smiled mischievously—“and in my boot.”
    He kissed her once more, a perfect kiss filled with longing and tenderness and passion. Then he’d stepped away, still holding her hand. Their fingertips had been the last thing to part.
    * * *
    After a decade of rumors and stories, Sophia wondered if she had known Aidan Somerville at all. Or if, like her, he had simply changed. If she could transform from a trusting girl who’d leapt freely into love into a more sober woman with an estate to administer and a child to rear, who might Aidan have become? More than anything else, remembering the authoritarian tone of his missive, she wondered which man she would meet tomorrow.

Chapter Five
    â€œNo, no, no, I need no introduction.” Ophelia’s voice carried as she approached Sophia’s room.
    Sophia stepped back from the balcony, pushing the French doors nearly closed, and depositing her cat on the ottoman.
    In the hall, Ophelia waged a small battle with Dodsley. Sophia could only hear Ophelia’s part, but she could well imagine Dodsley’s objections from Ophelia’s responses.
    â€œOf course her ladyship will see me—whatever are you thinking, Dodsley?” . . . “Well, I can’t imagine why it would matter if her ladyship is dressed or not.” . . . “We are family, after all.”
    Sophia reached the door to her dressing room just as Ophelia flung it open. Her sister-in-law strode victoriously into the room, resembling far more closely Boadicea the warrior queen than the weepy Shakespearean heroine her parents had named her after. Sophia nodded her acceptance of her sister-in-law’s invasion, and Dodsley, looking woeful, retreated.
    â€œOh, darling, I can only stay for a few minutes.” Ophelia kissed Sophia on both cheeks. “But I brought you a gift for your meeting with Aidan this afternoon.” From behind Ophelia, a footman entered carrying a dress box followed by Sally and a wan young girl Sophia didn’t recognize.
    â€œOver there, Phillip. Put it on the ottoman, then meet me downstairs.” Ophelia waved her directions, then turned her attention back to Sophia. “I’ve just picked it up from the modiste, but I’m sure it will fit. Your Sally has been so good about giving us your measurements, and I brought the modiste’s girl along in case. We have plenty of time before two, and I will be back to help after I deliver Sidney.”
    â€œOh, Phee, I’ve already chosen . . .”
    â€œNo, not one of those dreadful black things you have worn till the fabric is thin. If you wish to have any influence over Aidan in this guardianship, then you must be Lady Wilmot , a woman of his class, a woman he cannot command. If you are available to meet with him, it must be because you condescend to do so.”
    The modiste’s girl opened the dress box and began to remove layers of paper until the dress was visible. Then she raised the dress from the box. French in design, the day dress was formal, suitable for visits in the late afternoon or family dinners. The muslin was a cerulean blue decorated with small, black raised dots. Narrow black lace repeated at the neck, the waist, and the wrists, then in five flounces alternating with black, brocaded-satin ribands at the base of the dress below the knees.
    â€œOh, it’s lovely.” Sophia lifted the muslin in both hands, feeling its weight and texture between her fingers. Then taking the dress from the seamstress, she held it in front of her before the pier glass. “But for half-mourning, the color . . .”
    â€œ. . . is beautiful,” Ophelia