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her lovely dress swishing behind her as she made her entrance to the guests below.
    With her thoughts still on the imaginary party in her head, the door opened and closed, and her eyes flew open as she gripped the bannister. Her knuckles white, she listened for voices, her feet refusing to move.
    Her heart pinched as she heard Jerome say, “Pierre must stay in town tonight, I’m afraid. Important business to attend to tomorrow, but he will be home for supper. He asked that I offer his apologies to his...to Josephine.”
    “Oh, the poor girl. She must be getting nervous by now, what with all of this silly mail order business. I don’t know what you boys are thinking.”
    “Now, Bernadette, you do know exactly what we’re thinking. Pierre can’t have his inheritance until he’s married. That was his mother’s stipulation. And he needs it now.”
    “I realize that, but I don’t think--”
    Josephine peeked over the stair rail but drew her head back as Jerome reached up to hang his coat on the stand at the foot of the stairs. She hated to eavesdrop, but she was so eager for details, and if this was the only way...
    “It’s done, Bernadette. There was no time for him to court anyone, and he wouldn’t have wanted to, anyway. He has no interest in a relationship, this is just for the inheritance. And Josephine will do just fine for that purpose.
    “That poor girl...and poor Pierre, for that matter,” Bernadette said. “Everyone should have a chance at love.”
    Josephine backed away from the bannister, confident no one had seen her, and tiptoed slowly back to her room. She winced as the door creaked a bit as she opened it, but she moved slowly and slipped in without another sound.
    She leaned back against the door, her thoughts jumbled. An inheritance? An arrangement? Nothing had been said in the letters about any of this, and she felt a bit betrayed. But why should she? She’d not been promised love--not at all--and she’d agreed to come.
    She walked slowly to the window. The dappled sunlight had faded to dusk now, and several stars had begun to twinkle. The long, green branches of the willow trees--there had to have been fifty, at least, that she could see--grazed the grass in a soft breeze.
    The white fence that also lined the drive curved at the end and disappeared in the distance beyond several smaller, wooden structures that looked like they might be houses. A small child ran out from one, followed by a woman that Josephine thought to be about her own age. The woman laughed as she swooped up the child and Josephine smiled at the infectious giggles of them both as they went back into the house.
    She placed her palm on the window, its warmth surprising her. If she were still in Lawrence, it would likely have already snowed at least once, the streets covered in black slush. She shivered at the thought of her icy cold, soaked skirt and wet boots that she had to sit in all day at the factory.
    As the willows danced in the breeze and horses grazed beyond, she breathed deeply of the clean, country air. No, even if it was just an arrangement, even if it was for an inheritance and even if she’d never find love--it was still better than Lawrence and the awful factory.
    She crossed the room at the soft knock on her door and was met with Bernadette’s wide smile as she opened it.
    “Oh, you’re up. I was worried I’d wake you.”
    Josephine lowered her eyes. “No, I’m awake.”
    “Well, you must be starving by now. Can’t believe we didn’t feed you. ”
    As if on cue, Josephine’s stomach rumbled. She laughed and held her hand to her belly.
    Bernadette gave a hearty laugh. “Sounds like you’re ready. Are you?”
    Josephine looked up and met Bernadette’s gaze. She straightened her skirts and smiled. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Chapter Nine
    T he water in the washbasin was nearly as cold as it would have been in Lawrence and Josephine was grateful for that as she dabbed a towel over her face. She looked up