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experience on the train wild behavior must be acceptable in this place. I imagine that child can be counted on to embrace it.”
    “I doubt everyone here is an outlaw. There must be some civilized—”
    The butler interrupted her with a silent glower, then led them past upholstered chairs, immense wall hangings, and tables cluttered by all manner of figurines, vases, and the like. Struck speechless, they followed him up an elegant curving staircase to a second floor landing.
    At the top, dark hallways branched off in three directions. Wilda hung over the waist high banister and gazed down into a crystal and gold pendant filled with fat candles. A blaze of sunlight through the enormous windows set the crystal afire.
    “Miss Wilda.”
    At the sound of Simmons’ proper English intonation, she pulled herself away from the awesome sight, stepped forward and bobbed her head at the manservant.
    “Follow me, please. I will take you to your room. Someone will fetch your valises shortly.” He disappeared down the dimness of a hallway.
    She glanced about, surprised to be alone. The Chesshires were nowhere to be seen.
    Ahead of her the thin man’s footsteps whispered eerily along the carpeted dark corridor, and she hurried to keep up. At the far end a round window filtered rays of light through a blue, red, and gold pattern. Her guide was merely a shadow in the glow. He paused, inserted a large key in an enormous door, swung it wide and stepped aside.
    Under the toes of her worn shoes lay a dark blue rug splashed with cream flowers. Dear Lord, it was exquisite. Dare she step on it? A canopied bed curtained in soft blue silk and a bedside table with a glass mantled lamp took up one wall. On either side of a fireplace filled with a massive arrangement of sunflowers, sat an elegant armoire and dressing table of a matching scrollwork design. A washstand with china pitcher and bowl occupied a corner beside a privacy screen, all painted with red roses. Blue drapes that matched the bed dressing covered another wall shutting out the brilliant sunlight.
    Turning circles, she clasped both hands so tightly they tingled. The door closed softly and the man was gone. With a whoop she ran across the room and leaped into the center of the bed, sank in its delicious softness. She felt like a pampered child, not the lonely little orphan girl who’d lived in a cell at St. Ann’s for the past several years.
    How good to lie thus, arms and legs spread, breathing in the vague scent of rose water and a bouquet of wild flowers. The miserable trip, air fouled with smoke and sour body odor and vomit, was behind her. For the moment, she must forget the dreaded marriage that lay ahead. Whooping again, she rolled about on the bed, laughing in a very unladylike manner.
    At last she clutched a satin covered pillow to her bosom and lay very still. This luxury was what she had feared? How foolish of her. Here she could be happy, surely. For who wouldn’t? She would lie here another moment, then she would explore. The room was so cool, so still, so peaceful. If only she had someone to help loosen her corset, all would be perfect.
    A hammering on the door startled her awake. A voice muffled by the thickness of the wood called her name. Lifting her head, she gazed around, for a moment unsure of where she was. The draperies at the window glowed with the setting sun. Of course. Fairhaven. She stumbled across the room, opened it to find a harried Marguerite.
    “Well, for goodness sakes, child. Look at you. All mussed and wrinkled. And your hair is a sight. You must prepare for the evening’s meal. His Lordship has sent for us. I shall come in and help you.”
    Wilda gazed at her limp, soiled traveling toilette. It was indeed mussed. She had saved the eveningwear Marguerite had bought for this moment when she would come face to face with her intended husband for the first time in over two years. And now look at her.
    In a panic, she gazed around the room. “Where