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impossible. To think that he had whipped her like the lowest of the staff and now was rubbing it in her face! What she needed to do was start applying for another position now, so that she had options if he decided not to keep her on. Yes, she would ask to borrow his newspaper the following day and check the notices for another governess position. That resolution made her feel marginally better. Thinking she might get a little fresh air, she was headed to the doorway when she heard her name being called out.
    “Miss Downy?” a male voice said.
    She turned, puzzled. Although she knew the gentlemen callers who visited Miss Watson, she was not sure they would remember her name enough to call it out at a ball. She looked back and then recognized Mr. Bartlby, from the carriage accident.
    “Mr. Bartlby, how nice to see you,” she lied. The truth was, she would have been happy to never see him again. It was his liquor that had loosened her tongue and made her say so many things she would not have told anyone. And she had no interest in facing the recipient of her innermost secrets at that moment, or ever, for that matter.
    “The pleasure is all mine. May I have this dance?”
    “Actually, I was just going to get a bit of air,” she said.
    “Then I will join you,” he said.
    At that, she panicked. She certainly had no intention of walking on the terrace with Mr. Bartlby. “On second thought, a dance sounds nice,” she managed, reaching for his arm. He beamed a smile at her and led her to the dance floor. She saw the Colonel, who was dancing with a very beautiful young woman and thought darkly that the girl was far too young for him. As they passed each other on the dance floor she felt his gaze on her, taking in her dancing partner with that same inscrutable look he always wore. She felt shame remembering that the Colonel had witnessed her disgraceful drinking and open talking with this man. After the dance, she refused another, but couldn't seem to shake her suitor. He followed her to the tables and stayed by her side for the remainder of the evening.
    “Say, isn't that the Colonel—from our carriage?” Bartlby asked.
    “Yes,” she said dully. She did not want to tell him that the Colonel had ended up being her employer, but it was probably silly to hide the truth. “As it turned out, the Colonel is my employer.”
    He looked at her, his eyes widening as he surely realized what a gaffe she had made. “No!” he said in a scandalized tone. Clearly he loved the drama of it all. He leaned in conspiratorially. “So what did he say?”
    She wasn't about to tell him or anyone that the Colonel had bent her over his desk and applied a leather strap to her bare backside. “Well, he wasn't happy. But he decided to keep me, on a probationary period.”
    “That was lucky,” Bartlby said.
    “Yes.” At that moment, she saw the Colonel looking pointedly at her from the across the room, signaling silently that he was ready to go. Miss Watson and Mrs. James were standing near him and he had a look of annoyance on his face.
    “Oh! It looks like it's time for me to go!” she said, jumping to her feet. “It was nice to see you, Mr. Bartlby.”
    “The pleasure was mine. Wait—may I call on you?” he called after her as she rushed away.
    “I'm sorry, I have to go now!” she called rudely over her shoulder.
    The Colonel's face was stone. Miss Watson and Mrs. James seemed a trifle subdued themselves. They were all nearly silent on the carriage ride back.
    Feeling restless and disturbed, she checked on the children before she retired. Lying in bed, she listened to the sound of voices and footsteps that gradually quieted as the house settled down. Then she heard the low rumble of a male voice coming from one of the rooms in her corridor—which didn't belong—the Colonel's bedroom was at the other end. She listened closer and thought she heard someone crying out. It seemed to be coming from Miss Watson's room. Thunderstruck,