Page 6

“Wh-why are you all d-dressed up like this?” It didn’t seem to matter how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself; she couldn’t control her chattering teeth.

The man beside her—Lord Bancroft, supposedly—glanced down at his ensemble. The soggy ostrich feather in his flamboyant hat drooped, but even that didn’t fully detract from his heroic musketeer appearance. “Given the storm we encountered,” he said, “I’m grateful for my cloak. Did you not think to don one before venturing out in such inclement weather?”

She had to give him points for staying in character, but suggesting that he was more sensibly dressed than she was wasn’t going to win her over. “N-no. There wasn’t a c-cloak with the costume.” She raised the hem of her wet skirts a fraction. “Or shoes, for that m-matter.”

The shock on his face appeared genuine. “How far did you travel without shoes?”

“From the ch-changing room.”

“The changing room?” His shock turned to confusion.

“Yes.” She shivered. She was out of the rain and wind, but this room was not nearly warm enough. Someone needed to crank up the heat. “Th-the one that l-looks like a woodshed or s-something.”

“Simon!” A woman who appeared similar in age to Isla hurried toward them from the passageway. Her dark, curly hair was piled on top of her head in an elaborate updo. The farthingale beneath her red gown must have been even wider than Isla’s because her dress swayed back and forth like a pendulum as she crossed the floor. “I am so glad you are arrived safely.”

Attempting to muffle her chattering teeth with her lip, Isla studied the two people curiously. Their dark hair was similar, as were their brown eyes. Despite their significant difference in height and Lord Bancroft’s neatly trimmed beard, they certainly looked enough alike to be siblings.

“As am I.” Lord Bancroft removed his hat and greeted her with a brief kiss on the cheek. “But as you can see,” he continued, “I am not the only one seeking shelter from the storm tonight.”

The woman turned her attention to Isla. “Good evening,” she said politely. “I am Lady Maidstone.”

“Isla C-Crawford,” Isla said.

“You are most welcome, Miss Crawford.” She hesitated for a fraction of a second, and when Isla didn’t correct the title, she smiled. “I am anxious to hear more about you and learn what brings you to Copfield Hall. But first, we must get you out of those wet clothes.”

“Th-that would b-be marvelous,” Isla said. “My b-blouse and trousers are in the ch-changing room.”

Lady Maidstone offered Lord Bancroft a puzzled look.

“Miss Crawford came from the direction of the woodshed,” he said.

“Yes. B-but it wasn’t a w-woodshed when I went in. It was a ch-changing room.” Even as Isla spoke the words, she could hear how ridiculous they sounded. But seeing as all these people were dressed in period costume, they had to be in on the charade. “I’m feeling p-pretty miserable r-right now, so m-maybe we could end this prank?”

“I am very sorry, Miss Crawford,” Lady Maidstone said. “I can appreciate your discomfort completely. The prank, however, I am struggling to comprehend.”

“This!” Isla waved one arm to encompass the room and everyone in it. “It’s l-like we all l-landed in the Elizabethan era.”

Lord Bancroft cleared his throat. “Given the political volatility in our nation at present, it might be well to remember that Queen Elizabeth died over two years ago.”

Isla stared at him. “Elizabethan doesn’t refer to Queen Elizabeth II, you know.”

“There is no Queen Elizabeth II,” he said.

“Right. Because she d-died in 2022.” Isla’s irritation was mounting. She was going to give Chloe an earful when she saw her next. It was one thing to talk Isla into going to a costume shop she’d never heard of before; it was a whole other thing to take advantage of her visit to play a practical—and completely unfunny—joke on her. It was about time they ended this farce so Isla could go home. “Queen Elizabeth II was on the throne f-for ages,” she said, “and maybe one day, people will r-remember her reign like they d-do with the f-first Queen Elizabeth.” She raised her soaking skirts a few inches off the floor. “But I guarantee, th-they won’t be dressed like this.”

Lady Maidstone exchanged a look with her brother. It seemed like it was one part warning, one part concern. Good. Maybe he’d stop playacting now.

“I think we’d best resume our conversation after you’ve both changed out of your wet clothes,” she said. “Simon, your trunk arrived yesterday and is in the green room, as usual. I imagine you’ll find Anson there also. Miss Crawford, you and I are of a similar height. I believe I can find you a gown to wear from my wardrobe. You are of a more slender build, but my maid, Maggie, is masterful at pinning. I have no doubt she will be able to fit something to you without any difficulty.”

“But my own c-clothes are in—”

“The changing room,” Lady Maidstone finished for her. “So you said. But seeing as the storm has yet to subside, I think it would be wise if you borrowed something of mine for the time being.”

“What of shoes, Martha?” Lord Bancroft asked.

Isla raised her hem just enough to expose her purple feet. “A pair of socks would be g-great, especially if you don’t have any sh-shoes in a six.”

“In a six?” Lady Maidstone frowned. “What is that?”