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could count on in the finer classes of people. Women of high society were taught to keep their opinions to themselves, and in fact were encouraged to have no opinion at all. From the moment she was born, Amelia was strictly lectured that her father, and later her husband, would clearly do her thinking for her. Amelia had other ideas, however, and often she came off appearing smug and superior in her attitudes. People misjudged her confidence and believed her to think herself better than her peers. But it wasn’t true.
    Logan Reed came to mind. He, too, had misjudged her and her kind. Americans seemed more than happy to lend their opinion to a situation. Even this young woman gave her opinion at every turn. But, where Logan had made her feel quite the snob, this young woman made her feel like royalty. Then a thought crossed her mind and she frowned. “Did Mr. Reed pay for you to assist me with my hair as well?”
    “Oh, no, ma’am. I was just thinking you might want some help what with it coming down in back and all. I can’t do it up fancy like you had it, but I can help pin it up.”
    Amelia nodded. “Yes, I’d like that very much.” The girl turned away while Amelia stepped into her underthings. There were a little damp and this seemed to make them cooler. Light was fading outside and Amelia knew it must nearly be dinner time. These Americans had the barbaric custom of eating a full meal not long after the time when she was more accustomed to tea and cakes. Supper at home was always an affair to dress for and always served late into the evening—sometimes even after nine.
Alas, yet another American custom to adapt to.
    The girl instructed Amelia to sit on a stool while she combed out the thick, waist-length tresses. Amelia prided herself on her hair. It was a light, golden blond that most all of her peers envied. To be both blond-headed and blue-eyed in her society, was to be the picture of perfection. Added to this was her,
how did Mr. Reed say it?
robust figure. Amelia smiled to herself. Many a glance had come to her by gentlemen too well-bred to say what Logan Reed had issued without the slightest embarrassment. She was robust, or voluptuous as her dear friend Sarah would say. When corseted tightly, she had a perfect hour glass figure, well nearly perfect. Maybe time ran a little heavier on the top half than the bottom.
    “There, how’s that?”
    Amelia took the offered mirror and smiled. The young woman had done a fine job of replicating her earlier coiffure. “It’s exactly right, Miss …”
    “Oh, just call me Emma.”
    “Well, thank you very much Emma.” Amelia got to her feet and allowed Emma to help her dress. “Are the others going to bathe?”
    “Oh, the menfolk went down to the steambath at the barbershop. The other womenfolk didn’t seem to take kindly to my trying to offer up help, so I pretty much left them alone.”
    Amelia nodded and smiled. She could well imagine her sisters’ snobbery keeping them from accepting the assistance of this young woman. And no doubt, Lady Gambett and her pouty brood had taken themselves off to a private wash basin. With a final pat to her hair, Amelia gathered up her things and followed Emma from the room. “You should see my father, Lord Amhurst, for the cost of this bath and my clothing being cleaned. Mr. Reed is no more than a hunting guide to our party and certainly has no call to be arranging my affairs.”
    Emma smiled. “Oh, that just Logan’s way. He’s friendly like that.”
    “Well, I assure you that I am not in the habit of allowing strangers, especially men, to be friendly like that with me. Please see my father with the bill.”

    Supper that evening was a surprisingly pleasant fare of roasted chicken, sage dressing, a veritable banquet of vegetables—mostly canned, but very tasty, and peach cobbler. Amelia had to admit it was more than she’d expected and only the thick swarm of hovering black flies kept her from completely enjoying her