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believe what she had done…or what she yet intended to do.
    Evie shook her head and pressed a palm to her temples, her long, elegant fingers jutting from her head. “How did this happen? I only just stepped from the room.”
    “You know me. When I make up my mind…” Her voice faded and she shrugged.
    Evie motioned to the hair strewn about the floor. “But…why?”
    Fallon moistened her lips. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have half so many problems keeping a position if I were a man.”
     
    Evie’s brows winged high. Silence hung between them for some moments. Her lips, almost too full for her thin face, worked. “You cannot mean…”
    “Why not? Men are paid a better wage. I could save toward a nest egg. It wouldn’t be permanent.”
    “You cannot possibly expect anybody to confuse you for a man.”
    “I’m tall enough.”
    Evie stared pointedly at her chest. “And what about those?”
    She glanced down at herself. “The rest of me may be big, but these are not.” One small thing for which to be thankful. “I suppose I can bind them to be safe.”
    “You’re still a woman. The way you walk, gesture—”
    “People see what they want to see. And when it comes to servants, nobs don’t look too closely. No one gives footmen or grooms special notice. The problem before was that I could never blend in.” She ran a hand through her shorn hair. “Now I can.”
    Evie squinted at her hair. “It looks…brown.”
    Reaching behind her, Fallon held up a small vial of skin cream. “I used this. It makes my hair look darker. It will do for now. Until I purchase pomade.”
    Evie sank down on the end of the bed, her slim hand circling one of the posts, knuckles white. “You really mean to do this.” There was admiration in her eyes as she uttered this, but also alarm…fear. The latter drove home just how mad this scheme actually was—it could be Fallon’s salvation or ruin. But what choice remained? Bleak alternatives rose up in her mind, and she shoved them all away.Never . She could never resort to that.
    Chin high, she pasted the most encouraging smile she could manage on her face. “Tomorrow morning I shall present myself to Mrs. Harrison at the agency. All will be well. You may depart for your adventure with no concern for me.”
    With a sigh, Evie stood. “If you’re to do this, let’s see it done right.”
    The rest of the night passed in a blur. Evie first tidied up Fallon’s efforts with her hair and then left, returning shortly with garments bought from the hotel porter. After minor adjustments with needle and thread, Fallon was appropriately attired.
    Outfitted in her new clothing, she stared hard at her reflection, gooseflesh breaking out over her skin. “I don’t know whether to be appalled or pleased.”
    Evie nodded behind her, face slack with astonishment. “If I had not assisted you with the transformation, I would never believe it.
    “I actuallylook like a man,” she breathed.
    “Well, you canpass for one at any rate,” Evie offered. “Or rather a boy.”
    “A young man,” Fallon amended, smoothing a hand over her slicked-back hair, pleased that the red-gold hue was scarcely visible. It simply looked an average brown.
    “Yes. Perhaps seventeen or eighteen. Thank goodness for your height.”
    Fortunately, the narrow shape of her face stopped her features from appearing too soft or delicate. She had never been an apple-cheeked maid. Her features had been too strong, her jaw a bit too square.
    Evelyn cocked her head to the left side, her expression thoughtful. “Still, you are apretty man.”
    “I’ve seen pretty men before.” Fallon nodded, whether to convince herself or Evie, she couldn’t say. Half the men about town aspired to look as she did—a veritable dandy. The ones who gave her grief over the past two years had certainly been prettier than herself.
     
    For some reason, the Duke of Damon’s face floated before her. Definitelynot a dandy. The angles of