“I’m eighteen, Nora! I don’t have to have my mother’s permission for my nightgown.”

“You got that in Paris, didn’t you?” Nora guessed with an air of disapproval. “And I’ll wager her Ladyship wasn’t with you when you bought it.”

“Nora!” Maggie scolded. She had known Nora for as long as she could remember and she wasn’t about to be lectured to by the waifish, freckle-faced maid with whom she’d played as a child while Nora’s mother cooked downstairs in the servants’ quarters.

“Have it your own way,” Nora gave in. “You always do, anyway.” She pulled open a dresser drawer and selected a full-length slip, stockings, garters, a corset, and underdrawers.

“I don’t want to wear any of that,” Maggie insisted. “It’s the middle of August. I don’t need stockings and I most certainly do not want a corset.”

“No corset?!” Nora exclaimed. “What’s going to hold you together?”

Nora’s horrified expression made Maggie burst out with laughter. “Same as what holds you together, I imagine. My bones and skin. At least I hope so!” Sifting through the clothes hanging in her armoire, Maggie contemplated her Parisian purchases. “Here, look at this, Nora.” She held up a straight-lined floral sheath of a translucent fabric, lined with green satin. It was worn with a coordinating billowy green tunic-length jacket. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s something, all right,” Nora allowed. “You’ll certainly make an impression at the breakfast table. But wear it at your own risk. And don’t be saying I selected it for you.”

“I’ll take the blame,” Maggie agreed. Nora helped her change into the outfit. Truthfully, wearing something daring made her feel like her old self again. It felt good. “I’m starving. I take it I haven’t missed breakfast?”

Pulling down her quick updo, Maggie shook her hair out, letting it spill around her shoulders, and began to brush. Without comment, Nora plucked the brush from her hand and continued the job. “No, you’re in luck. His lordship’s talk has delayed everything this morning.”