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“The fella that runs the meat pie stall.” He handed the largest of the bones to Sebastian who promptly disappeared with it beneath the wagon. “I’d better sort the water for washing.”

Lizzie nodded and he set about building a small fire and fetching the pail for water. Lizzie’s fingers flew. The fact she had so little time meant she did not have the opportunity to debate if the trimmings were too elaborate for her tastes. Instead, she simply kept her head down and sewed like a fiend until all the little paper bags were empty. Even Mrs. Knapp and Lucinda would be impressed, she thought, seeing how her needle flew.

At some point, Benedict wordlessly placed a cup of black tea at her side. When she sipped it, she was surprised. “Lemon!” she said aloud.

“That’s how you preferred it you said.”

“I do,” she agreed, cradling her cup. “This is lovely.”

“This must be taking you back to your days with the Napps,” he commented, nodding toward her dress.

Lizzie grimaced. “It’s a bit different, prettifying a dress for your own pleasure and trying to sew thirty waistcoats from scratch by the end of a week.”

Benedict grunted, peering under the lid of the water pot. “This is getting hot. You nearly finished?”

Lizzie shook out her dress. “What do you think?” she asked, holding it aloft. Looking at the fancy ribbon work and lace at the bodice and neck she felt a sudden misgiving. “Is it too much?”

“Not a bit,” Benedict replied promptly. “Here, let’s carry this pail of water inside for you to wash and dress.”

She jumped down off the step, and he lifted the water off the fire and poured it into the bucket to carry it inside.

“I’ll try not to be long. I can dress my hair out here while you wash,” she said, thinking of the cramped confines.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, placing the bucket inside the door. “We’ve plenty of time. I’ll pour you another cup of tea to drink while you get ready.”

He was as good as his word, and Lizzie felt rather spoiled as she stepped into her best stiffened petticoat and then her taffeta gown. She had no looking glass to take in the full effect, still, she thought it must be the fanciest it had ever looked. She glanced down at the adorned bodice and scarcely recognized it as her rather plain Sunday best.

Pinning her enamel brooch to the frothy lace at her neckline, she suddenly wished she had a pair of white gloves to complete the look. Her black ankle boots would be hidden underneath her skirts, so they would not signify. Perhaps if she dressed her hair prettily with the silk flowers the stallholder had insisted she purchased, she could get away with her lack of accessories?

How should she dress her hair? she wondered. Lizzie had always rolled her hair very sensibly at her nape. She had never worried about trying to achieve any kind of elaborate hairstyle. Betsy used a hot poker to achieve her own sausage curls, but Lizzie had always thought them rather frivolous and certainly too girlish a look for a plain-faced woman such as herself.

She had always felt the two years separating herself and Betsy very keenly. When she had joined her aunt and uncle’s household, she had been a shy child of four, recently orphaned. Their own daughter had been a chubby toddler of two who was still addressed at that point as ‘Baby’. Lizzie had felt like an assistant to the nursemaid for several years, and then after that, her aunt’s companion. There had been precious little time for parties or amusements in her life.

Picking up her hairbrush, she ran it through the length of her blonde locks and swept her hair back into a softer chignon effect. Driving in her hairpins, she skewered the silk flowers around the edges of the arrangement and hoped for the best. For the first time in her life, she wished she owned a small pair of drop earrings, such as the ones her aunt wore on Sundays. Aunt Hester’s were garnets, but Lizzie would rather have pearl drop earrings, then she caught her breath at the direction her thoughts were rattling in. What was she thinking of?

Setting down her hairbrush, Lizzie told herself sternly she was growing sadly vain and covetous. She stood up with sudden decision, and retrieving her empty teacup, made her way out of the little door and onto the step. “What do you think?” she asked self-consciously and then turned her head so he could see the effect of her hair. “Does my hair look tidy at the back? I had no way of telling.”

“It does,” he told her, clearing his throat. He approached and reached up for her, lifting her down. He cupped her cheek and gazed down at her steadily. “I prefer it down about your shoulders,” he confessed huskily. “But it looks good this way too.”

“Down?” Lizzie echoed. “I’m long past my girlhood when I could wear it so.”

“There is one place you can still wear it loose,” he pointed out, running his thumb along her jaw.

Lizzie fidgeted. He must mean in bed when he did not like her to wear it braided. “Isn’t it about time you washed and dressed?”

Benedict released her with a laugh and clambered inside the wagon. “I won’t be long,” he flung over his shoulder. “Don’t get distracting any passers-by with your finery.”

Lizzie sat on the upturned packing case and squeezed a last rather stewed half-cup from the pot. She was just sipping it when Sebastian came out from under the wagon to rest his head on her knee.

“Hello, boy,” she murmured in surprise and carefully stroked his ears. His pale gaze flickered to her face and away again, but he remained still, allowing her caress. Knowing he was not much of a one for physical affection, Lizzie felt profoundly touched by his gesture. He remained standing on all fours as though ready to take off again, but he kept his head resting where it was.

When Benedict emerged from the wagon a few moments later in his black suit, he found them in the same pose and lifted an eyebrow. As though breaking the spell, Sebastian lifted his head and settled in front of the fire instead.

“I do hope Sebastian will not feel abandoned when we go out and leave him here tonight,” Lizzie said eyeing the large dog anxiously.

Benedict cocked his head to one side. “We’ve plenty of bones to keep him busy. You’ll just have to be firm.”

Lizzie bit her lip. “What if someone was to try and steal him from us?”