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“Miss Holmes!” she greeted, waving at her and turning her course to move in that direction instead. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Miss Holmes bobbed a quick curtsey of greeting, the light dusting of freckles on her nose creasing a little as she smiled in return. “I am fetching meat from the butcher for my mother. What brings you into Allington?”

“Bread,” Martha told her simply, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “My cousin sent me with a list.”

“Well, Mr. Nelson is packaging my order and said it might take some time. Why don’t I go with you?” Her cheeks colored slightly. “That is, if you do not object to my joining you.”

Martha smiled and shook her head. “Not at all. Please, come with me. I know where the bakery is, but I’ve never entered it. I would welcome familiar company.”

Miss Holmes nodded and came to her side, starting to walk with her. “Have you settled into Lanfare, Miss Smith? Mr. and Mrs. Cummings are wonderful people; I imagine they have been warm and welcoming.”

“Very much so,” Martha informed her. “I feel quite at home there. A trifle trampled with all of the children, but they are so darling. This morning, Sophie came into my room and asked if she could climb into my bed and if I would tell her a story.” Martha paused, smiling more broadly at the memory. “She is just six.”

“What a dear girl!” Miss Holmes laughed to herself, something just as natural in that sound as there seemed to be in the woman herself. “I have a sister who is that age, and she is rather prone to do the same. She and Sophie would likely be great friends.” She gave Martha a questioning look. “Are you missing London, Miss Smith? I have never been, but one hears such grand tales.”

Martha’s smile turned rather rueful at the question. “I cannot say that I am, no. There is much of grandeur to be found in London, but hardly substance. At least not in my circles. One does get so tired of ceremony and bored with pretense. Everybody is playing a part, and one is always on display.”

Miss Holmes made a soft tsking sound of sympathy. “That sounds fatiguing.”

“To say the least,” Martha agreed. “Even with my own mother, I am never certain what is genuine. Although I am quite sure her obsession with my marriage is true and honest.”

“Are you to be married, Miss Smith?” Miss Holmes cried out in surprise, grabbing Martha’s arm with an eagerness that reminded her of the girls in London, yet could not have been more different. This was a young woman whose eyes were wide open as to the realities of life and marriage, who had less ignorance than the girls in London, and still found the prospect of marriage something worth celebrating.

This was a person with whom Martha could easily form a true friendship.

“No,” Martha told her with a laugh. “And that is why my mother is so angry. I’ve refused good marriage proposals, which is unforgivable. She does not share my view that a marriage ought to be made for love and affection.”

“What other motivation should there be?” Miss Holmes asked in outright bewilderment. “Surely, she would not have you marry for money.”

“She wouldn’t mind money,” Martha said, “though I’ve a dowry one might call fashionable. I think she would like me to marry a title, or some pristine pedigree. More preferable if heneeds money, as he will then value a connection with me more.”

Miss Holmes frowned now, her brow creasing. “But that has nothing to do with you. The money is not even yours. Surely, it would be better to wed someone who values you rather than your money.”

Martha gave her new friend a speculative look. “I like you, Miss Holmes. I insist that you call me Martha.”

“I think our difference in position might make that impolite,” Miss Holmes murmured, ducking her chin. “You are a woman of status, Miss Smith. I am the daughter of a country lawyer.”

“And I am staying with my cousin, who has one maid, a housekeeper, and a cook,” Martha replied at once. “There is no ceremony to stand on, and I would be most pleased to call you a friend. I have very few, and I would like to look past what other people have decided are barriers preventing me from honest friendship. Please, will you indulge me in this? Unless you are feeling differently, of course. I will not force this.”

Miss Holmes made a quick sound of disbelief. “I would be delighted to form a friendship with you, Miss Smith. I cannot pretend those barriers do not exist, nor that a friendship with me will be considered fashionable, but I do admire you, from what I know, and would be pleased to be your friend.”

“Then let me be Martha to you,” she insisted, beaming at Miss Holmes. “And may I call you by your given name?”

Miss Holmes nodded, sharing a smile now. “I would be honored. My name is Cassandra. My family calls me Cassie.”

“Delightful!” Martha looped her arm through Cassie’s, the elation of having a friend making her feel oddly childlike. “Now, Cassie, will you tell me about the local society? I know absolutely no one but my cousin’s family and a few of the shopkeepers. Are there great secrets in Allington one must know about?”

Cassie laughed and continued to walk along with her. “I don’t know about many great secrets, Martha, not in Allington. We save those for Chippenham. Here, we’re really rather quiet. Comfortable, simple, and rather familiar. The most exciting venture is when there are assemblies in Chippenham. There is one in a few weeks, if you will still be here.”

“I certainly hope so!” Martha exclaimed brightly. “I should love a country assembly ball. I’ve never been to a dance where my mother has not arranged every dance and conversation for me. I shall not know what to do on my own!” She giggled at the ridiculous idea, and was relieved when Cassie did the same.

“Well, you won’t have to worry over our country lads making love to you, that is almost certain,” Cassie told her with a smile. “There aren’t many in the area that are eligible, and those who are take some prodding to make an introduction.”

Martha shook her head with a playful sniff that reminded her of her mother’s disapproving sounds. “I have absolutely no interest in making a match while I am here, I thank you.” A mischievous smile captured her lips as she gave her new friend a sidelong look. “Though it would utterly gall my mother to do so.”

“Might be worth a look, then?” Cassie quipped with a laugh.

“It just might.” They continued to laugh together, making polite conversation that kept Martha occupied enough to avoid paying much attention to any of her surroundings.

Which was likely why she stepped directly into a pile of horse droppings.

“Oh dear,” Cassie whimpered when the pair of them paused at the horrible squelching sound. “Martha …”

Martha looked down at her foot, now trapped in rather unpleasantly textured excrement, and hummed in disgruntlement. “Now that is unfortunate. Serves me right for forgetting this is the country, and not minding my surroundings.” She raised her eyes to Cassie’s horrified ones and gave her a crooked smile. “Any advice?”

Cassie bit down on her lips hard, as though she feared Martha would shriek. “Take your foot out gently. Don’t move it much. And then we could clean your boot. My home is not far; we could go there directly.”

“Don’t be silly, we are both on errands.” Martha waved the idea off, and removed her foot from the mess, twisting her lips at the stain that remained, though gratified there did not seem to be all that much substance on the surface. “I don’t know that I should enter the bakery with this muck on my boot. What do you think?”

Cassie giggled softly, releasing the pressure on her lip. “I think others have walked in with much the same. You will want to clean your boots soon, so the stain does not set in. And such fine boots, too. Oh, Martha, what will you do?”

“Walk,” Martha said simply, grinning at her. “And mind my step. I’ll not make the same mistake twice. Come on, the bread will not wait.”