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Miss Crawford lifted her chin slightly. “No one told me anything, my lord.”

“You read it in a book,” Simon said dryly.

“Yes. In The Oxford History of Britain, to be precise.”

Maidstone eyed her guardedly. “If you were in my position, Miss Crawford, which of those two scenarios would you believe?”

Miss Crawford held his gaze for two heartbeats before turning to Martha. “You have been extremely good to me. I understand if you wish me to leave. If you’d be willing to point me in the right direction, I could start walking toward London, and perhaps I might . . .” She swallowed.

Simon stood completely still. Might what? Be accosted? Did she truly believe she could safely walk all the way to London unattended? In borrowed shoes and without a cloak, no less?

“I might be able to find work somewhere along the way,” she finished.

Obviously choosing to gloss over Miss Crawford’s ridiculous suggestion, Maidstone ran his hand thoughtfully across his short beard. “What skills do you possess, Miss Crawford?”

She hesitated. “I’m actually a pretty good press secretary, but I don’t think being computer savvy and having experience with Excel, Adobe, and the press corps will do me much good here.”

Simon exchanged another look with Maidstone. He’d understood a minute fraction of the words Miss Crawford had just spoken, and he guessed his brother-in-law was in a similar position. If nothing else, Miss Crawford’s incomprehensible speech gave some credibility to her origin.

“You are not going anywhere until we have determined exactly why you have come,” Martha said with surprising firmness.

“But I have no idea why I’m here,” Miss Crawford said.

“Then, we shall simply have to work together to sort it out.”

“Martha, I appreciate the sentiment.” Maidstone offered Miss Crawford an apologetic look before continuing. “But I must remind you that we have yet to come to a firm decision on Miss Crawford’s tale.”

“Well, I believe she is speaking the truth,” Martha said. “Quite apart from the knowledge she shared about the king, no young lady of unsound mind could speak so clearly about clothing, fabrics, and fashions. I would further submit that if everyone in Little Twinning is willing to believe that Mary Peasly can locate underground water using two sticks, then the three of us should be willing to believe that Miss Crawford can visit from another time. She has offered us more evidence than Mary ever has.”

Maidstone shifted uneasily. “Even if her account is true, if Miss Crawford is in ignorance of the reason for her coming, it is highly unlikely that any of us will uncover it.”

“Nonsense.” Marth was at her take-charge best. “Two heads are better than one—and together, we are four heads.”

Miss Crawford smiled tremulously. “That is exactly the kind of thing my friend Chloe would say.”

“I daresay I would like her very much.”

“Yes.” Miss Crawford’s smile grew, and Simon was struck once again by how that single act brightened her entire countenance. “I think you’d get along famously.”

Martha looked from Miss Crawford to Maidstone and then to Simon. “I know you gentlemen believe me foolish to focus so much on clothing, but your lack of attention to that detail has caused you to miss what I believe is an important clue.”

“I am very willing to stand corrected,” Maidstone said.

“Tell us again exactly what Mrs. McQuivey said as she was going through the clothing racks with you, Miss Crawford,” Martha said.

“She acted as though she were searching for the costume I’d gone in for, but she suggested that I’d probably like something historical better.”

“And afterward?” Martha prompted.

“She looked at a few gowns and passed by them.”

“Did she say anything in particular when she did that?”

Miss Crawford hesitated as though trying to remember. “It seems like she said, ‘No, not that one,’ a couple of times.”

“Exactly,” Martha said, sitting back in her chair with a satisfied expression.

“Exactly what?” Simon asked.