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spent on the train listening to Andrew Lawton talk about his work as an apprentice to Joseph Paxton, designer of the Crystal Palace, was the first time since leaving Philadelphia two weeks ago that he had not been almost utterly consumed by a sense of dread. He simply had a different way of dealing with it than Kate.
    Though almost three years his senior, Kate had always looked to him to take the lead socially, as he was far more gregarious and outgoing than she. Those who did not know the family well usually assumed Christopher to be the older and Kate the younger sibling. He hoped that would continue to be the case here in England so her age would not be an issue in trying to find a wealthy husband.
    Christopher almost groaned at the thought. His poor sister—with as much as she wanted to help and protect the family, her only recourse now lay in finding a wealthy man to marry her and overlook the fact she had no dowry and the family had no money. When she’d explained to him after luncheon that she wished him to call her Katharine in public, deeming it to be more proper and acceptable to English society, he’d shrugged and agreed. But after seeing how his sister behaved toward Mr. Lawton, simpering and batting her lashes— flirting with him—he wasn’t certain he liked Katharine Dearing.
    “So you came straight to Liverpool from London?” Christopher kept his voice low to keep from waking her. Only minutes after the train pulled out from the station, she fell asleep, rousing briefly the few times the train stopped along the way.
    “Yes. Mr. Paxton recalled me to London a week ago to help transplant some of the trees and shrubs from inside the Crystal Palace to a hothouse nearby, where they will be tended until the palace is dismantled when the Exhibition ends in October.” Over the past several hours, as Christopher and Andrew had talked and gotten to know each other, the Englishman had transformed from stiff and formal to relaxed and friendly. Christopher quite liked him, especially as he had firsthand knowledge of the goings-on surrounding the Great Exhibition.
    The train jolted and began slowing.
    “This will be our stop, then.” Andrew stood, carefully, and shrugged back into his greatcoat.
    Christopher was about to reach over and shake Kate awake, but withdrew his hand when her eyes opened and she blinked a few times to clear the sleep from them. “We’re pulling into Oxford station, Kate. Let me help you with your coat.”
    Unlike most of the women he’d seen on the boat, who seemed to believe their wide-skirted dresses, with as many petticoats under them as possible, were just perfect for traveling in close quarters, Kate’s brown traveling suit featured plenty of skirt, but not one that stood out from her two or three feet in all directions. She stood and turned so he could help her into her coat. She topped it with the matching cloak and shawl, looking, when she finished, like a brown triangle.
    Not that he minded seeing her in something that hid her physical attributes. She’d inherited her extraordinary height from the Dearing side of the family, but from the life-size portrait of their mother that hung in the back parlor at home, it was obvious she’d inherited her figure from the Buchanan side. He hoped she had not brought with her the pink dress she’d worn to the New Year’s Eve ball. It had taken all his willpower to keep from dragging her upstairs and finding something to drape around her exposed shoulders and chest. That the cut of her gown had been more modest than any other woman’s in attendance that night had not mattered. She was his sister, and he did not want men ogling her.
    Christopher shrugged into his own coat, though with all three of them standing and wavering about as the train jerked and hissed its deceleration, elbowroom was limited. Finally, the train came to a stop, and someone on the platform called, “Oxford! Oxford station, end of the line.”
    “Mr. Dearing, if