Stealthily, she made her way next door and through the service door where she met Molly, the widow's sewing girl, who, as Jenny had hoped, was more than eager to earn a few coins beneath her employer's notice.

With that task undertaken, Jenny headed next for Trim Street to place her dress order with Mrs. Marshall, and then finally she was off to Bath's center.

Truth to tell, Jenny couldn't wait to near the Pump Room. She wasn't going in of course, not dressed as shabbily as she was, but rather she planned to loiter outside, waiting and watching.

She had quite convinced herself that the mysterious woman in red, the one with the sc.r.a.ppy worn-out shoes, and her two gentlemen friends would be there, and some wicked plan to rob Bath's finest would be afoot.

As she walked past the Pump Room, she lingered at the front windows, but there was no sign of the terrible trio.

Keenly disappointed that no entertainment was to be had, Jenny finally spun on her heel in the direction of Royal Crescent. There was ironing still to be finished, slippers to be cleaned... and cream to be blended in the stillroom-secretly of course. Those tasks would have to provide her excitement for the day.

Suddenly, the sky cracked open and a bone-chilling rain began to fall. Jenny tightened her mother's wool cape closer about her shoulders.

The rain was heavy and within moments she was soaked through to her chemise.

Then she smelled something foul. She sniffed the air and realized the smell was coming from herself.

Oh, perdition, the wet cape was starting to make her reek like a sodden sheep.

She glanced angrily up at the low gray sky as she splashed her way across the Abbey Church Yard. There were no signs of blue anywhere, and if she did not seek shelter, she would soon catch a horrid cold upon her chest. And that would be the end of the grand Lady Genevieve.

All of Bath's service staff would come to her funeral, Jenny mused. Of course they would, and during her burial, not a shirt in the entire city would be ironed, not a meal prepared or a fire lit. At the notion, she smiled a little as she quickened her pace.

The ton would be confused and outraged at the work stoppage, and the interest of the mysterious on-dit columnist would be p.r.i.c.ked.

Jenny's brows raced toward the bridge of her nose-for this event would mark her downfall. Being the curious sort, the columnist would no doubt investigate the hushed background of the great lady, who was so admired by those in service. The columnist would dig and pry and snoop. And in the end, he'd expose her for the maid she was. What a horror that would be!

What would Callum think of her then?

She squinted her eyes and looked around. Bath Abbey was just ahead, though through the gray veil of cold, lashing rain, the peaks of its soaring spires were no longer visible. It was a trick of light and mist, certainly, but the carved angels ascending the abbey's twin ladders to heaven appeared this day to have a chance of reaching their ultimate destination at last.

Since the morning service had concluded at least two hours prior, Jenny slipped inside to prevent her death and ultimate exposure as a lady's maid.

Her boots echoed loudly as she moved forward down the long open aisle. Sitting quietly upon the bench along the wall, Jenny gazed upward at the exquisite fan-vaulted ceiling above the altar, and at the brilliant stained-gla.s.s shields in the clerestory above the nave, and smiled.

It was deliciously peaceful here, and quiet. Here she could be alone with her most sacred and intimate thoughts... and ponder the cut of her next ball gown-for surely she would need another soon.

The sound of a cough lured her gaze toward the front of the abbey. Through one of the arches, nearly hidden in the shadows beneath the great gla.s.s windows, stood a very tall man.

Good heavens! Jenny leaned over her knees for a better look. Was he wearing a kilt?

With slow deliberation, she rose from the bench, and balancing on the tips of her toes, lest her heels touch the floor and announce her approach, she slunk through the archway toward him.

His back faced her, but as she neared there was no doubt that the imposing figure, with strong broad shoulders and well-muscled legs, was indeed Argyll.

She watched curiously as he ran a trembling hand down the names carved in the memorial tablets along the abbey wall.

His finger stopped abruptly upon a phrase inscribed beneath a skillfully carved marble cartouche of a delicate angel perched above a parted drape. Jenny edged closer to read what had so intrigued him.

In memory of Olivia Burnett Campbell, Lady Argyll of Argyll, Scotland, who departed this life in the flower of her age at Bath on the 3rd of January, 1802 "Your mother," Jenny gasped involuntarily.

Callum whipped around and stared at her. His penetrating gaze was fierce, and his skin was soaked and hair dripping, like Jenny's own.

She reached out to him, wanting to comfort him, but his hand shot outward and grabbed her wrist roughly, preventing her tender touch.

Locked in each other's gaze, his hard and unyielding, hers fraught with compa.s.sion, neither moved.

Then something seemed to crumble inside of the great Highlander. His grip loosened, the ferociousness in his eyes disappeared, and he lowered his trembling hand to his side.

It was all Jenny needed. She opened her arms and he fell into them, needing to be held as much as she needed to offer him solace and comfort.

She squeezed her eyes closed and held him tightly, so close that even through the layers of wool coat and cape between them, she could feel his heart thumping.

There in the east aisle of the abbey, they clung to one another, their soaked clothing dripping into puddles on the marble floor.

In that moment, something grew inside Jenny and made her warm. Holding Callum in her arms felt so right. He felt so right.

Raising her fingers up to his cheeks, Jenny turned his face to her, made him look into her eyes. Droplets of water broke from strands of hair clinging to his forehead and fell upon her face, as she raised herself onto her toes and kissed his lips softly.

Despite the chill and dampness and the shivering of their bodies, his mouth was warm and welcoming. And as they kissed, slowly, gently, Jenny's body heated where they touched, as surely as if she were standing before a fire.

Their mouths parted, and they each gasped a small breath.

Callum stared down at her, and his lips began to move as if there was something he wanted to tell her. But no words came forth.

Instead, he pulled her tight against him once more, and kissed the top of her head. Jenny closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his sopping coat, knowing somehow deep within that as soon as she released him, this moment-their connection-would vanish.

And she didn't want it to end... ever.

As if this thought had conjured their parting, she heard from the rear of the abbey the familiar sound of the reverend clearing his throat. "The rain has ended, my children."

Callum drew back from her and stared as if seeing her there for the first time. With a startled look in his dark eyes, he backed away, then turned and hurried from the abbey, leaving her standing in the aisle alone.

Jenny smiled politely at the reverend and bowed her head while pa.s.sing him on her way outside.

As she exited through the arched doorway, Jenny raised her gloved fingers to her lips and relived Callum's kiss in her mind.

What had just happened? Though she couldn't put a name to it, something had changed in the depths of her soul, warmed within her, and she knew for certain that things would never be the same between them again.

As she reached the square, fingers of soft light cut through the cloud cover and etched a pathway upon the cobbles. She had just stepped onto the slick, wet pavers when movement to her right caught her notice.

There, leaning against the corner of a building, was the tiny man. Somehow, his clothes had remained dry, and he was leisurely eating a crumbling bit of Sally Lund bread.

Jenny stopped walking. Why, he was grinning at her. "Good afternoon," she called out tentatively.

But the little man said nothing. Instead, he raised his hat from his oddly shaped head and tipped it to her. Then, he leaned on his outer leg, and with a slight limp, disappeared around the corner.

Jenny followed, eager for a little adventure, after all. As she rounded the corner, however, she was completely dumbfounded. She looked down the empty street in both directions. The little man was nowhere to be seen.

"And just where have you been?" her mother snapped the very moment Jenny opened the service door and entered the kitchen.

Jenny shrugged off her wet wrap, hoping her mother wouldn't notice it belonged to her, and slipped it on a hook beside the fire to dry. She daren't tell her mother where she was... or that she had been with Callum. That bit of information would not sit well with her at all. "I... had errands to run, and was caught in the rain. Had to wait it out."

"Well, change into your black and whites and get yourself above stairs. The ladies wish to have a chat with you, right now."

"With me? Did they say why?"

Her mother folded her arms tightly across her chest. "And why would they confide in me? Just hurry yourself along if you want to keep your position, gel. The ladies have been waitin' three-quarters of an hour already."

A mixture of apprehension and dread filled Jenny's belly as she scratched on the drawing-room door a few minutes later and waited for admittance.

"Come in, gel, and take a seat," came Lady Let.i.tia's voice. "We've been waiting for you all morn and have a matter of great concern to speak about with you."

Jenny did as she was bade, and sat nervously across from the two Featherton ladies.

Lady Viola leaned forward. "Child, are you playing our game because you enjoy mingling with the ton? Or because you feel some affection for the viscount?"

Jenny's eyes wedged to the right. There was a right answer, the perfect reply to appease them enough that they'd allow the game to continue... if only she could find it.

"No, gel, I shan't have you ponder the question and tell us what you believe we would like to hear." Lady Let.i.tia leaned close as well. "Look to your heart."

Against her better judgment, Jenny raised her gaze then and spoke without thinking of the consequences. "I do love playing the lady. For me, 'tis a dream come true."

Lady Viola slumped back against the settee with a forlorn sigh.

Rising, Jenny moved before the fire in the hearth and stared pensively into its licking flames and opened her heart. "But today, well... something changed inside of me."

Lady Let.i.tia rose and laid her hand on Jenny's shoulder. "What do you mean, gel? What happened today?"

Jenny turned around, and reluctantly recounted her brief, yet emotional encounter with Callum in the abbey.

By the time she finished, great tears were rolling down Lady Viola's cheeks, cutting white tracks through her powder and rouge.

A knowing smile laced Lady Let.i.tia's lips. "You love him."

Jenny looked up at her, and shook her head. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to, my dear." Lady Viola sniffed back her tears and dried her cheeks with the handkerchief her sister gave her. "But it is clear nonetheless. You mightn't even know it yet yourself, Jenny. But from what you've told us, your hearts met in the abbey. Maybe only for a moment, but it won't be the last time, I promise you that." She leaned forward and held Jenny with the most potent of gazes. "Why, I have a notion that the two of you are falling in love."

Jenny flinched at that. Preposterous. They shared a moment of tenderness. She eased his pain. She paused then. Was there more to it? Was she falling in love with Callum?

The sound of hands clapping drew Jenny's gaze to Lady Let.i.tia, who was prancing, as best she could given her heft and swollen ankles, around the drawing room gleefully. "'Tis exactly as we'd hoped, Sister. A love match in the making-a real love match!"

There was a rustling sound at the drawing-room door, then it flew open and Meredith backed into the room, her arms laden with a huge parcel. "It's here, Aunties. Come and see!"

At once the ladies set aside their views on Jenny and Callum's attraction, much to Jenny's relief. Lady Viola struggled to her feet and the three women joined Meredith around the polished mahogany table in the center of the room as she tore the muslin wrapping away.

With a gasp of pleasure, Jenny stared at what lay before her. There beneath the sc.r.a.ps of muslin was the most beautiful evening gown she'd ever seen.

She couldn't help herself. Jenny had to touch the fabric.

s.n.a.t.c.hing it up, she shook it from its folds and marveled at the creation. The evening gown was made of vibrant midnight-blue sarcenet draped over an icy white satin slip. The waist was short in accordance with all the latest fashion magazines, and topped by a daringly low bodice. The cropped, full sleeves cascaded over the shoulders, and fell deliciously low in the back. Around the waist was a sash of blue satin ribbon fastened in a pet.i.te bow in the back.

Were she to wear this gown, no one would be able to take their eyes from her. And most especially not Callum.

Jenny lurched with surprise.

Callum? Lud, where had that thought hailed from? That notion came quite out of the sky, didn't it?

Tucking the distracting thought in the back of her mind, Jenny held the dress up to her shoulders to view it more carefully. The gently flared skirt was ornamented with a deep tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of net, and finished with ruched rows of more blue satin, which would produce a light, ethereal effect, particularly when Callum swirled her around in the ballroom. Lud. There he was in her thoughts... again.

Once more, Jenny tried to put her thoughts of Callum aside and instead focused her attention on her new gown.

Golly. That was a.s.suming the gown was meant for her.

Oh, it had to be. Just had to be. It was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen!

Well, she wasn't about to wait around to find out while her heart was already claiming it for its own.

"Your gown is lovely, Miss Meredith. Though I daresay," she added cleverly, "I would not have chosen quite this shade of blue for you." Then she glanced sidelong at Meredith who laughed in response.

"No, silly. Aunt Viola had the gown fashioned especially for you."

"For me?"

Lady Let.i.tia chuckled to herself. "Come now, gel, you know you have need of it."

"We are not too old to recall the feel of wanting to look fetching for a beau." Lady Viola smiled warmly.

Jenny's innards somersaulted. Oh, this was too wondrous to be true. The gown was hers. Hers! "Oh, thank you, my ladies. Thank you ever so much."

"No need to thank us, my child. You have no idea the happiness you are bringing us." Then Lady Viola's eyes widened and she slapped her fingers to her lips.

This odd reaction was not lost on Jenny. It was almost as if Lady Viola had erred and said something she shouldn't have. But Jenny couldn't think what that might have been.

Lady Let.i.tia hugged her sister to her. "Now, now, Viola, you've done nothing wrong by simply admitting the joy we glean from observing love in blossom."

Lady Viola smiled meekly then and nodded her head. "Quite right."

Still, Jenny watched the old woman's countenance carefully. Something wasn't being said. Oh, how she wished she had the gumption to probe deeper. But she knew she had to remember her place.

She was a lady's maid in the household. Nothing more.

Jenny glanced down at the dress once more and smiled with delight.

Meredith gave her a little nudge. "Well, go on. Run and try it on. I am quite beside myself waiting to see how it will look upon you."

Jenny smiled so broadly that her cheeks actually smarted. With the gown hugged tightly to her chest, she dashed below stairs.