Hope accelerated her heartbeat. Maybe that was the key. Maybe she'd been concentrating so hard and trying so valiantly, she'd made it impossible for herself. Perhaps that was her mistake. Ian had made her tense and nervous, desperate to perform well. Here, in the midst of her new friends, she felt no such pressure.

Smiling, she tried again. "Maeve came ..." to my room last "... night."

Her smile fell. Defeat rounded her shoulders. Staring at Andrew, she gave him a futile little shrug. "Not so better."

He stepped toward her. "You're much better, Selena. Naturally you have trouble speaking. I expect it's normal after such a bash to the noggin."

Selena understood the most important word: normal. It sifted through her heart and made her smile again.

She reached out, took Andrew's hand in hers.

He blinked and tried to draw back. "What ... what are you doing?"

"Thank ... you. Andrew."

The queen sighed. " 'E G.o.ds, they're going to kiss."

Andrew's face flamed. He jerked his hand back and spun around to face Edith, the queen, and Lara. "All right, ladies, as of now, we're Miss Selena's teachers."

"I say she gets dressed first," the queen said. "Clothes are the window of the soul."

Edith shook her head. "Really, Your Highness, we've had this discussion. 'Tis the eyes that are the windows to the soul."

"Clothes."

"Eyes."

Something about the argument seemed absurdly

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funny to Selena. She couldn't help herself. She started to laugh.

Beside her, Lara giggled.

"How could eyes be made of gla.s.s? Everyone knows that windows are gla.s.s," the queen said earnestly.

Andrew shot Selena a funny look. His eyes crinkled in the corners, his mouth twitched.

Edith frowned and glanced at the faces around her. "They're laughin' at us, Your Highness."

The queen's eyes rounded. Then a quick smile quirked one side of her mouth. A deep, breathy chuckle slipped out.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then everyone was laughing. The booming sound filled the tiny room.

Selena had never experienced such exhilaration. She felt wonderfully, joyously alive.

"I ... love ... to laugh," Lara said with a gap-toothed grin.

Finally the laughter melted away, leaving a silence that was warm and welcoming.

The queen wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned to Selena. "Thank you, child. It's been a long time-----"

"You're welcome," Selena answered automatically.

The queen rapped her on the nose with her open fan. "You're welcome, Your Highness. That's me. You may address me as Queen Victoria or Your Highness."

Selena watched her mouth form the words. "Your ... Highness."

The queen beamed. "She will come to me for lessons first, of course."

"What will you teach her?" Andrew asked.

"The essentials. How to walk with books on her head. How to wave and curtsy. An overview of the peerage." Her fleshy face scrunched in a thoughtful frown. "Tea etiquette is crucial."

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"That should help her in the real world," Andrew said.

The queen looked up sharply. "Do you think she'll ever see the real world?"

"Why not? She's not crazy."

"Neither am I," snorted the queen. "If it weren't for my evil twin sister, Vicky the sneak, I'd be on the throne right now." The queen turned and began pacing the room, fanning herself, muttering.

Selena went to the queen. "Help me."

The queen paused, turned. "You accept that I am the real and true inheritor of the throne of England?"

Selena had no idea what she'd just been asked. So she nodded.

The queen smiled. "Today we shall begin with my realm of expertise."

Edith rolled her eyes. "This is all nonsense. But I shall teach her how to do housework. a.s.suming she doesn't burn the b.l.o.o.d.y house down, that should give her a way to earn a decent livin'. Ye needn't speak to be a good housekeeper."

"Don't need much of a brain, neither," the queen added.

Andrew seemed to think for a minute, then he grinned. "I don't have many necessary skills, but I can improve her vocabulary. I'll start by marking the items in the house and yard."

"But who's going to teach her to think?" Edith asked.

They all looked at each other blankly, from one to the other. Then, slowly, Lara raised her hand. "I will."

The queen heaved a sigh. "Phew. So it's all settled. Now, what shall she wear for teatime?" She glanced around the room and spied the bronze silk gown Maeve had left. "Ah, perfect." She picked up the dress and turned to Selena. "This shall do for today."

Selena stroked the soft fabric. "Silk."

"So it is."

Edith came forward, touched the b.u.t.tons on Selena's

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lawn nightdress. "Remember b.u.t.tons ... how to unhook them?"

Selena understood. She unb.u.t.toned her gown and whipped it over her head.

Naked, she grinned at the faces around her.

Andrew swallowed. His face turned scarlet. "Oh, Lord," he said in a thick, reedy voice.

"Get out, Andrew!" Edith screeched, motioning for the door.

He spun and scrambled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Selena knew she'd done something wrong again, but she didn't know what it could possibly be. She'd unb.u.t.toned her gown and undressed just as Edith had taught her. She looked at Edith. "Wrong?"

Edith nodded. "Don't get undressed in front of people. It isn't proper."

Selena looked at the faces around her. She thought that people meant more than one person, but obviously she was wrong. "People?"

"Andrew," Edith clarified. "Don't get undressed around Andrew."

"Oh," Selena said. There was something special about Andrew. "I understand."

"Good. Now, let's get you dressed."

Edith showed Selena how to tie her lace-edged knee-length drawers and slip into the flimsy chemise.

Selena concentrated very carefully, making sure that the queen wrote down every motion required, so that Selena could read and reread it.

There were more clothes than she could have imagined. Selena repeated every word she heard at least twice, until she understood and remembered that the small brown items were boots and that the silken leg coverings were stockings.

"Next is the corset." Edith held up an hourgla.s.s-shaped white satin bodice with pink ribbons at the closure. It looked very stiff.

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"Corset," Selena repeated, standing still as Edith fitted the garment over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and beneath her arms.

"Hold on to the bed frame," Edith said, "and suck in a breath."

Selena did as she was told.

Edith yanked the corset tight Selena gasped for air. Blinking white lights danced in front of her eyes. Her fingers released their grip on the wooden post, and she wrenched sideways.

"It ain't tight enough. Come back-" Edith ran after her.

Selena stood her ground, arms akimbo, her breath coming in great, wheezing gasps. "No. No corset."

"But ladies-"

"No."

"But 'tis proper. Dr. Carrick-"

The queen hushed Edith with a wave. "He isn't here. Besides, the muddle-headed doctor will hide in the dark like he always does. What does he care if Selena here wears a corset?"

Edith shrugged. "I give up. Fine, Selena, no corset for you."

Selena smiled. "Hurts."

The queen laughed. "See, Edith? Even a woman with half a brain knows that d.a.m.ned thing ain't right."

Edith sighed. "You're the queen. Change the fashion."

"I will-just as soon as my evil twin dies. Then ... then I'll let women wear pants."

Edith cracked a smile. "No wonder they locked you up."

Selena looked up. "Pants ... like Andrew?"

Edith shook her head. "No, Selena. Absolutely not."

The narrow main street of Alabaster, Maine, glowed like its namesake in the rising sun. White clapboard houses, placed neatly on brown patches of dead gra.s.s and hemmed by white picket fences, told in wordless

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prose the tale of ordinary family life. Although it was quiet now in the last moments before dawn, the streets devoid of sound or motion, Ian could imagine this place on a summer's day. Crowded sidewalks and teeming streets; the warm, humid air thick with the sounds of a small town-children's laughter, adults talking, the steady clip-clop of horses' hooves on the stone pavement.

The carriage hurtled down the street without stopping or slowing, which was just as well, for Ian had no reason to do either. He had been through a hundred towns like this in his life. They dotted the New England countryside like pearls tossed across an immense emerald canvas.

Ever since childhood, Ian had secretly dreamed of living in a place like this, a place where neighbors knew each other and shared Sunday suppers, where mothers wore ap.r.o.ns and smiles and never spoke to their dead husbands aloud.

"I hate towns like this," Johann said dully. "Pretty on the outside and rotting within."

Ian felt a flash of anger. "Now who's the cynical b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

Ian glanced out the window again. The brilliant orange sun had just crested the thick, black blanket of trees, throwing light on the still-darkened houses.