Mrs. Trimble had even changed her hairstyle, taking it out of its braid and pinning some locks atop her head. Henry was nibbling nervously on her lower lip as he examined her, and she exuded a shy loveliness that was as enticing as it was puzzling, considering he'd never dreamed she had a shy bone in her body.

"Henry," he said softly, "you look...you look..."He searched for the right word but couldn't find it. Finally he burst out with, "You look so nice!"

It was the most perfect thing anyone had ever said to her.

"Do you think so?" she breathed, reverently touching the dress. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," he said firmly. He looked up at Mrs. Trimble. "We'll take it."

"Excellent. I can bring you some fashion plates to look at, if you'd like."

"Please."

"But Dunford," Henry whispered urgently, "this is for your sister."

"How could I give that dress to my sister when it looks so utterly charming on you?" he asked in what he hoped was a practical tone. "Besides, now that I think of it, you probably could use a new dress or two."

"I have outgrown the ones I have," she said, sounding a bit wistful.

"Then you shall have it."

"But I haven't any money."

"It's my present."

"Oh, but I couldn't let you do that," she said quickly.

"Why ever not? It's my money."

She looked torn. "I don't think it's proper."

He knew it wasn't proper but wasn't about to tell her so. "Look at it this way, Henry. If I didn't have you, I'd have to hire someone to manage Stannage Park."

"You could probably do it on your own now," she said brightly, giving him a reassuring pat on the arm.

He almost groaned. Trust Henry to disarm him with kindness. "I probably wouldn't have the time to do it. I have obligations in London, you know. So the way I see it, you save me a man's wages. Probably three men's wages. A dress or two is the least I can do, considering."

Put that way, it didn't sound quite so improper, Henry decided. And she did love the dress. She'd never felt so womanly before. In this dress she might even learn to glide when she walked, like those fashionable women-on-rollers she had always envied. "All right," she said slowly. "If you think it's the right thing."

"I know it's the right thing. Oh, and Henry?"

"Yes?"

"You don't mind if we let Mrs. Trimble dispose of the frock you wore here, do you?"

She shook her head gratefully.

"Good. Now come over here, if you please, and look at some of these fashion plates. A woman needs more than one dress, don't you think?"

"Probably—but probably not more than three," she said haltingly.

He understood. Three was all her pride would allow. "You're probably right."

They spent the next hour choosing two more dresses for Henry, one in the deep sapphire lawn Dunford had picked out earlier, and one in a seafoam green Mrs. Trimble insisted made Henry's gray eyes glow. They would be delivered to Stannage Park in a week's time. Henry almost blurted out that she would be happy to return herself if necessary. She'd never dreamed she'd hear herself think it, but she didn't mind the thought of having to make another trip into Truro. She didn't like to think she was so shallow that a mere dress could make her happy, but she had to concede that it gave her a new sense of self-confidence.

As for Dunford, he now realized one thing: whoever had picked out her hideous dresses, it hadn't been Henry. He knew a thing or two about women's fashion, and he could tell from her selections that her taste ran to a quiet elegance with which no one could find fault.

And he realized one other thing: it made him unbelievably happy to see Henry this happy. It was an amazing thing, really.

When they reached the carriage, she didn't say anything until they were well on their way home. Finally she looked over at him with knowing eyes and said, "You don't have a sister, do you?"

"No," he said quietly, quite unable to lie to her.

She was silent for a moment. Then she placed her hand shyly on top of his. "Thank you."

Chapter 7

Dunford found he was oddly disappointed when Henry came down to breakfast the next day wearing her usual men's shirt and breeches. She caught his expression, grinned cheekily, and said, "Well, you wouldn't expect me to get my only good dress dirty, would you? Haven't we made plans to hike the perimeter of the estate today?"

"You are right, of course. I have been looking forward to it all week."

She sat down and served herself some eggs from the platter in the middle of the table. "Just like a man to want to know exactly what he owns," she said loftily.

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "I am the king of my domain, and don't you forget it, minx."

She burst out laughing. "I say, Dunford, you would have made a superb medieval lord. I think there is quite an autocratic streak buried somewhere within you."

"And it's so very much fun when it surfaces."

"For you perhaps," she retorted, still grinning.

He smiled along with her, completely unaware of how that particular facial expression of his affected her. Henry felt her stomach do a little flip-flop and quickly swallowed a bite of breakfast, hoping it would settle her down.

"Hurry up, Hen," he said impatiently. "I want to get an early start."

Mrs. Simpson emitted a loud "harumph" at that, since it was, after all, already half past ten.

"I just sat down," Henry protested. "I'll probably swoon at your feet this afternoon if I don't have proper nourishment."