St. Helens, England, Summer 1895

“Aren’t you going to welcome me home, Miles?” Jillian Kelley, having just arrived from university in the United States, addressed the man whom she’d been intrigued with throughout her youth.

He stood at the opposite end of her mother’s formal parlor, unblinking. He was as handsome as Jillian remembered, with his light characteristics and sky-blue eyes—perhaps his facial features had grown a little more mature, but she didn’t mind. She and Miles would grow old together and outward appearances would mean nothing with a love as strong as theirs would be.

Standing here with him now, she felt the familiar stirrings in her breast of the unrequited love she’d harbored for him for over half of her twenty-three years. She supposed, if she was pressed, her former determination to win him could be considered an obsession when viewed in a harsher light.

However, none of that mattered now. The status of their association was indubitably about to change.

A reticent smile, he obviously intended for her alone, caused soft creases beneath his eyes. “I—” Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. “I am in awe,” he offered in an unusually enigmatic greeting.

Granted, Jillian was wearing trousers.

She had denied her mother’s request that she change into a proper gown in which to receive her guest, but had thought nothing of it at the time.

Mrs. Kelley now sat in her chair wringing her hands, either in disappointment or anger or a combination of the two. It would have taken a psychology scholar to pinpoint the exact reason.

Since no one had made an effort to initiate conversation, Jillian took the task on herself. “How have you been occupying yourself, Miles?”

“Er.” He glanced at her mother and continued, “Reading, mostly. Visiting my father’s tenants.”

“Reading?” Now, here was a promising occupation. “Novels?”

Miles took a breath before he spoke as if mulling over his answer. “No. The Classics.”

“Oh.” An uncomfortable silence fell upon the threesome, the second in the minute and a half or so since Jillian had stepped into the room.

She felt everyone jump as she broke through the nonexistent din. “If you are so inclined, I’ve brought back some entertaining books and a few fabulous plays to read, as well. Have you heard of Oscar Wilde?”

She could have sworn she saw Mile’s eyes widen momentarily. “Wilde is—not read in the finer circles.”

“Why, because he’s a homosexual?”

Moving with much more agility than Jillian thought possible, her mother shot to her feet. “That will be all the time we have for a visit today, Mr. Bassett. Perhaps you could dine with us tomorrow evening?”

“Of course.” Miles bowed, his manners always impeccable. “Until then.”

After Miles had been shown out by the butler, Jillian’s mother whirled on her. “Have you lost your mind?”

Jillian’s gaze flew to her mother’s. “I beg your par—?”

“I’d originally initiated your journey so that you might grow out of your childish notions about Mr. Bassett. But it seems to me my stratagem has backfired. Is this what sending you abroad to school four years ago achieved? A young woman who dresses scandalously and speaks of things which should be beneath her notice?”

Jillian decided it best to ignore the comment about her and Miles and lifted her chin a notch. At university, she’d been warned of impending encounters with the dissatisfied, older generation about the contemporary way of thinking. “Mama, you must understand. My eyes have been opened. There is a brand-new century looming before us, and we must progress along with our surroundings.”

“I should like to protest vulgarity if I live until the century after the next, and so should you!”

“Mama, there is nothing vulgar about being a modern woman.” Jillian folded her arms across her chest.

“Don’t you dare take that stance with me!”

Jillian lowered her hands to her sides contritely as her mother continued her tirade.

“I raised you! I provided you with the money to attend Moravian Female Seminary! I—”

Jillian held up one hand. “On that note, there is something I need to tell you, Mama, and I’m afraid you may be displeased.”

A huff of air escaped from her mother in lieu of laughter. “I doubt anything could disappoint me more than the display you’ve shown since your arrival this morning.”

Clenching her fists then releasing them just as quickly, Jillian readied herself for a championship match between herself and her mother. “Then you’d better sit down, because you are about to endure an atrocious setback.”

* * * *

30 June, 1895

Dear Mr. Townsend,

I must apologize for last night’s little indiscretion following the alumnus party for Oberlin College. I never meant to be so very drunk in your presence. The fact is, I’ve never allowed myself to become that foxed before, although I’m sure you must feel that it was common practice for me, especially because of the way in which I conducted myself in the circle of your arms.

Please know that I hold you in the highest regard and don’t at all lay any blame on you for the irreplaceable loss of my virtue. I do also wish to express my regret for running out before you roused from your slumber. I must meet the morning train to New York to catch a steam ship for my home in St. Helens, where I would be happy to receive any letters you may wish to exchange with me. In the greatest humility and harboring no regret whatsoever,

Jillian Kelley of Fairfield Court, St. Helens, England.

In the week or so since he’d received the letter from atop the silver tray which his butler, Bingham, had ceremoniously held out to him on that fated morning, Bradley must have read it three thousand times. Assured that his memory had thoroughly absorbed every word, he refolded it and placed it in the inside pocket of his waistcoat as he disembarked at dockside in Liverpool, England.

The first order of business was to find a decent inn where he could wash the sea salt from his skin, gorge himself on a civilized meal that didn’t involve fish and get an absurd amount of sleep on a large, soft bed. Then he planned to set out via rail to find the feisty, midnight-blue-eyed, brunette enigma that had cost him several nights of lost sleep and an innumerable sum of cockstands which demanded his not so tender attention.

Regardless of his newly appointed position on the board of directors at Oberlin and the agreement he had yet to sign pertaining to a teaching position there, he needed this holiday. And if it included Miss Kelley and the delights of her person, then he’d be a very happy tourist.

Just then, a young boy held up a fistful of different colored ribbons for Bradley’s perusal. “A pretty for your girl, sir? Each only a ha-penny.”

The lad was thin, his skin pale, at least, in places where one could see through the soot smeared across his face. Bradley’s heart went out to the boy. It was likely that the ribbons were stolen, but he was certain that the child was only selling them to avoid the workhouse.

“How much for all of them?”

“A-all?” the lad stammered.

He smiled. “Tell you what. I haven’t had a chance to change my money yet, but here are two silver pieces.” They swapped the goods for the coins. “Now, go on home and give these directly to your mother. Understand?”

Shoving his hand deep into his pocket, he replied, “I shall, sir. Me ma’s gonna cry for joy when I give ‘er these.”

The boy ran off and as Bradley watched him go, he wished he could do more. But he hadn’t brought all that much money with him to begin with.

Bradley sighed. He hadn’t really thought about what the outcome of this impromptu journey should be. Whatever the case, he wouldn’t go home without some sort of closure. He was owed at least that much.

* * * *

Jillian took a deep breath and turned to fully face her mother who had thankfully taken her request to be seated seriously. “I never attended Moravian, Mama. I took the money and enrolled at Oberlin College in Ohio.” Jillian could feel the sting of her mother’s glare from where she stood.

“But the postmark on your letters—”

“I asked a friend from study hall, who had family in Germantown, Pennsylvania, if she would have one of her sisters forward my letters to you.”

If a single glare would’ve had the power to end a life… “Do you know how long it took me to find a decent school for you over on that…that island of thieves?”

Her mother’s voice shook with fury, but Jillian knew there was nothing that could be done about it now. “Mama, firstly, the United States is not an island, and they haven’t shipped criminals there for at least—”

“Do not bore me with details!” her mother snapped, then calmed considerably. “Tell me.” She placed a serene, wooden smile upon her face. “Just why did you find yourself compelled to change schools?”

“Honestly?”

“If you please.”

Jillian licked her dry lips as she considered her answer. She could lie and say that the academics were of a higher caliber, but she knew her mother had done extensive research on the academics of every school on the east coast of the United States before choosing the seminary, and could likely find out about universities further inland. “Oberlin College is…” She paused. The next words out of her mouth were sure to open a terribly foul can of worms. She rushed through the term, practically spewing it from under her breath. “Co-ed.”

Her mother leaned forward just a tad. “Code you say? Code for what? Code for a place which charges one for robbing them of their generally rational behavior?”

Gritting her teeth momentarily at her mother’s sharp jab, Jillian shook her head. “No, Mama. I said ‘co-ed’.”

“And this means—?”

“Co-educational.”

Jillian’s mother merely blinked at her, which she knew, from years of conversing with the matriarch of the family, meant that she required, no, demanded more information.

Taking one more deep breath to calm her nerves, Jillian expounded. “Oberlin College is a co-educational institution where both sexes can attend classes.”

“Together?” Her mother’s eyes widened and the volume of the query turned out to be much louder than a prestigious lady in a feminine parlor would normally allow.

“Yes, Mama.”

Coming fully out of her seat, Jillian’s mother persisted with her outburst. “Such practices should be illegal!”

“Well, Mama, with all due respect, they are not. At least, not at Oberlin.”

“And what, may I ask, was your line of study?”

Jillian swallowed. She knew this would not go over well, either. “Literature.”

It looked to Jillian as if her mother wasn’t breathing, so still did she stand.

Finally, just when Jillian was about to take a few steps forward and feel for a pulse, her mother spoke. “Literature.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Why?”

“It interested me.”

Her mother blew out a frustrated breath then continued her narrow-minded lecture. As much as she loved her mother, Jillian mentally shut her elder out and fancied herself elsewhere. Jillian understood why her mother might feel this way. She had been born almost sixty years prior to where they were on the calendar now, and back then, men and women didn’t do anything together which didn’t require meticulous supervision, a string quartet in a room full of their peers or a marriage contract. At least, that was what she’d steadfastly declared since Jillian had been a child.

“…And so it will be up to me to assist you in recalling your societal manners.”

This statement brought Jillian straightaway back to the conversation at hand. “Pray, Mama, just how do you hope to accomplish this?”

Her mother paced the length of the room and ended facing the window which overlooked the front lawns. “First and foremost, we’ll have Fletcher pull your old gowns down from the attic and see if anything can be salvaged. Once that is accomplished, I shall have to refresh your current wardrobe. I dare say, you won’t have any suitable gowns, having come from the unfashionable side of the Atlantic.”

Jillian clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. She had not spent her money frivolously on gowns and such. In fact, she had pinched her pennies and even returned home with a decent sum in her purse. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d had no dresses at all. Aside from the two blouses and three pairs of trousers, one in buff, one in light blue and one in brown for riding, she had two other gowns which would suffice. They weren’t trimmed with lace and satin bows, but they were comfortable. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Mama—”

“You will let me be the judge of that, I’m sure. In addition, tonight after you have finished with your evening toilette, I want you to send Anne, your new maid, to me. I have a few things I wish her schooled in as far as your future practices.”

Her mother had always appeared to be the epitome of good manners—and conducted her staff to comply as well. There existed a cutting undercurrent to her comments and opinions when one paid attention, which seemed quite the opposite of good manners.

“We shall bring a few of your peers together, perhaps a few properly schooled, hand-selected society girls for a house party. I dare say the example of their behavior will turn you back into your old self in no time.” Jillian’s mother glided over to her writing desk and sat.

Jillian looked down at her bloodless, wrung-out hands. What was so terribly wrong with the woman she’d become?

“Let us begin with a guest list.”

Swallowing, Jillian released her hands and took a seat across the room as far from her mother’s desk as was possible. “The Mayhew girls?”

“No, that won’t serve. All three daughters have made spectacular matches since you have been gone.” Jillian’s mother’s gaze swept from her head to her toes and back again. “They each live elsewhere now.”

She hadn’t conveyed the information in a negative way, but Jillian could detect overtures of jealousy in her statement. “The Newtons then?”

“I understand that the Newtons no longer accept weekend invitations. Their entire family is very involved in the church and I definitely wouldn’t expect them to approve of”—she looked her daughter up and down again—“of how things have progressed with you.”

Jillian swallowed and felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. She wasn’t so very appalling, was she? One thing was for certain, her mother had no idea, not even an inkling of suspicion that the night before she’d begun her journey home she’d lost all reason and had become fully introduced to womanhood in the arms of a man.

A very handsome, dark-eyed, sandy-brown-haired man.

She pushed the thought from her mind and addressed her mother. “The Youngers then.”

“Certainly not.”

Expelling a breath, Jillian turned away from her mother and offered half-heartedly, “Then perhaps you could think of someone to invite.”

Mrs. Kelley replaced her writing implements without having written a single name. “I shall think on it. In the meantime, I’ll send Fletcher to arrange an appointment with the seamstress.”

Allowing herself to relax against the back of the chair once her mother had quit the room, Jillian closed her eyes. Her return home wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned. Miles was supposed to have taken one look at her and fallen to his knees with a marriage proposal dangling from his lips. But that had been one-hundred and eighty degrees from what had happened. In actuality, Miles hadn’t said all that much to her, nothing meaningful, anyway.

And it smarted something awful.

Refusing to cry, Jillian pushed herself out of the chair. She needed to take her mind off of her sad predicament. A smile parted her lips. “Maid Marian.”