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thirty.”
    â€œJames is twenty-seven,” Glenda said, her voice sounding depressed. “Just three weeks ago he was twenty-six, not very old at all for a man, Mama.”
    â€œThat’s close enough. Don’t frown, dear, it will wrinkle your angel’s brow.”
    â€œMaybe when James decides to marry, he’ll want to marry another Englishwoman. Maybe he’s already met her. His cousin is an earl, you know, and that’s nearly royalty. He could marry anyone.”
    â€œWhy ever would he want another Englishwoman? The first one didn’t even last out the year. Even though his accent hints of an Englishman, he’s only half English, doubtless his worst half, the half that is still wounded, though not so wounded he doesn’t see to his man’s pleasure. Now, your father tells me that James will be here the rest of the year. That gives you a goodly amount of time, Glenda. But listen,dear, there are other young gentlemen for you to consider.”
    â€œWho, Mother?”
    â€œEmerson McCuddle, for one. A nice young man with a very rich father.”
    â€œHis breath is bad.”
    â€œLet him kiss your cheek and hold your own breath whilst he does it.”
    â€œEmerson is a lawyer. He has no interest in horse racing or breeding. What would he do with the stud and stables?”
    â€œThere is that. As for James Wyndham, perhaps he will recover himself soon. Perhaps he will tire of Connie Maxwell. Perhaps her years will begin to tell on her, but I wouldn’t count on that. You will dance with him this evening. Ah, let’s not pull your chemisette up too high, all right, dear?”
    Â 
    Jessie eased back into the shrubbery. She would have sworn that James had looked right at her, but that was impossible. He was inside in all the light. He could only see the black night and that quarter moon just behind the budding apple trees off to her left. She heard the four musicians set at the far end of the drawing room strike up a waltz. Even though she hadn’t a clue as to how to dance, she loved the waltz, the sound of it, the feel of it, the way it made her want to sweep around in wide circles and laugh and laugh with pleasure. She eased back up and looked through the window. She saw James bow over Glenda’s hand and swing her into the rhythm of the fast German music.
    She saw him lean down to listen to something Glenda said. He smiled. Jessie couldn’t remember the last time Glenda had said something that had made her smile. She saw her mother moving to stand beside Wilhelmina Wyndham, James’s and Ursula’s mother. Ursula and her husband were now waltzing, laughing over at James. There was Giff calling something out. More laughter. Soon the wholedancing area was filled. Even Mr. Ornack, as fat as a stuffed clam, was galloping happily about with his thin wife.
    She lightly touched her fingertips to her cheeks. The cucumber mixture had hardened nicely. She’d looked very closely this morning. The bridge of freckles over her nose was lighter; she was certain of it. She sniffed. James was right. She did smell like cucumbers. Not a bad smell, but certainly distinctive.
    She sighed and watched. She counted off steps, swaying with the music. When it came to a stop, she watched James guide Glenda back to their mother, who was still speaking to Mrs. Wyndham. She turned away from the window when a dark cloud blocked the moonlight. Knowing Baltimore weather, it could begin to rain at any moment. Jessie got to her feet and brushed off her bottom and legs. She heard voices then and recognized James and his brother-in-law, Gifford Poppleton, coming from the open French doors.
    â€œI tell you I saw her with her nose pressed against the window.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous, Giff. You drank too much of your own punch. Filled it with rum, didn’t you? What the hell would the brat be doing here?”
    Jessie froze in her boots. Oh God, she had to get out