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garner much attention from the opposite sex. Perhaps Catherine Kittredge’s impossibly spoiled boy would be taken by Victoria. Thank GodColin was such a well-liked young man—the fellows were always happy to spend time at Summerset.
    The girls had so little awareness of how important a good marriage was. Along with beauty, it was one of the few avenues to power a woman had. Let these suffragettes scream and fight for the vote, Lady Summerset knew that beauty and a good marriage—preferably to a man with means—were the only ways a woman truly could be safe from the horrors the world had to offer less fortunate women.
    But the most important matter was to get rid of the maid as quickly as possible. The girl herself obviously didn’t know what kind of scandal she could cause; otherwise she wouldn’t have come here under any circumstances. Her eyes narrowed. Unless she did know and thought she might profit from it? Lady Summerset shook her head. The Buxtons would not stand for being blackmailed no matter what kind of scandal it would cause.
    But how could she get rid of the girl without raising the curiosity of her nieces, not to mention her own children? If she took an interest in a mere maid, she would be arousing suspicion. Damned men; they got into these muddles but rarely knew how to get out of them.
    “Hortense, I think the blue silk with the cream ruching will do for dinner tonight,” she told her maid.
    By not wearing mourning clothes, Lady Summerset was making a very pointed statement to her husband. She would wear black the day of the service, of course, but not a moment before. In all her years of marriage, she’d discovered that matrimony was not so much a partnership as it was a campaign. There were moments of complicity when she and her husband wanted the same thing, but they were rare. She took a deepbreath. At least they were of like mind on getting rid of this troublesome young woman.
    She held her arms up as Hortense settled her chemise down over her. “The girls have brought their own lady’s maid with them, so you should have no extra duties. Of course, a new servant in the home always disrupts things just a bit.”
    Hortense gently turned her mistress toward the mirror to put the corset on. Lady Summerset had a theory that if she watched how much difficulty Hortense had in lacing it up, then Lady Summerset wouldn’t be tempted by the raspberry ice or éclairs.
    Now Lady Summerset could see her maid’s face. It was oftentimes difficult to tell whether her words made any impression on Hortense at all—it seemed as if nothing she said could change or alter Hortense’s thin, impervious features. Truth be told, Lady Summerset was just a touch intimidated by her impossibly correct, screamingly chic French maid. But she comforted herself with the fact that no other maid had been as pursued as Hortense, and her loyalty was unquestioned. Once, while Lady Summerset was playing bridge with poor Bertie and desperately trying to lose to his highness without detection, Countess Featherington was busy in the upper hall, trying to steal Hortense out from under her nose with a salary so generous that it made even Lady Summerset blink. Hortense had declined the offer and after Lady Featherington had told her of her maid’s loyalty (right in front of Hortense, no less!), Lady Summerset had no choice except to give her a raise.
    She watched Hortense carefully. “Of course, you will tell me how the new maid is settling in and if she is carrying out her duties adequately.”
    Hortense pulled lightly on the laces and her black eyes flicked up and met Lady Summerset’s in the mirror. “Of course, my lady.”
    “Just keep an eye on her. We don’t want her to get the idea that just because she’s new to Summerset the expectations surrounding her work and behavior are any different than they are for any other lady’s maid here at the abbey.”
    Hortense smiled automatically, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes