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fine, much better even than Valoree had hoped. Her new gown, black and demure, and her carefully upswept hair gave her a regal air. In fact, if she hadn’t known better, Valoree might have sworn the woman was a true lady, rather than the prostitute she knew her to be.
    â€œYe’re ready,” Valoree said as she arranged herself in the coach.
    One eyebrow arched majestically, and the woman subjected Valoree to the same inspection she herself had just been through. “You’re not,” came her response.
    Valoree blinked, then felt anger wash through her. “What the hell do you mean, I’m not?” she snapped.
    â€œYour hair. A lady would never walk about with her hair all wild about her head like that.”
    Valoree raised a hand to her head, a frown on her lips. “I—”
    â€œSit,” the woman ordered, gesturing to the carriage seat beside her, and apparently fully expecting to be obeyed. She turned and began to sift through the contents of a small bag on the seat beside her. “I expected as much, which is why I asked your man Henry to collect a couple of things—Aha!” Pulling a brush free of the bag, she turned and smiled triumphantly at Valoree, then frowned at her lack of response. She smacked the empty portion of the bench seat again. “Well, come on!”
    Valoree hesitated, then glanced at Henry, who had followed her to the carriage and now stood studying her hair with a frown. “She’s right, I guess. Ladies usually have their hair up like hers.”
    Though annoyed by the fact, Valoree had to admit she herself was completely ignorant of what ladies did or did not do. She had not left the ship more than a handful of times over the past thirteen years. When she was younger, the ports they had usually put in to were not the sort Jeremy and Henry felt she needed to visit. And when she had become Back-from-the-Dead Red, she had remained primarily on the ship to avoid discovery of her identity. All her memories of society were from her very early childhood. She had no idea what ladies were sporting nowadays.
    Cursing volubly, she switched to the other seat with a flounce of her skirts. She ignored “Aunt Meg’s” reproving look as the woman set to work on her hair.

Chapter Two
    The coach jounced and jostled more than a small ship on the high seas. Harder, too. Valoree grimaced as it crashed over another bump and gingerly raised a hand to her head.
    Her discomfort did not go unnoticed. “Are you ill? You look quite pale,” the old woman across from her asked with feigned sympathy.
    Valoree’s eyes snapped to her “aunt.” “If I am looking ill, it is because every part of my scalp is on fire.” The woman had swept her hair up in a towering coiffure and piled it on her head. “And by the way, I am not foolish enough to think that ladies go through that kind of pain every time they put their hair up—so if you try another trick like that, I’ll have you whipped. And keep your mouth shut while we are in this meeting. The last thing I need is for this Whister fellow to figure out you are an old prostitute.”
    Meg stiffened, then colored at the insult. Valoree felt a moment’s regret, but it was brief. She had too many worries and too little time to be overly concerned with anyone’s hurt feelings. Her entire crew, and now this woman, were dependent on her for both a home and a new way of life. She was feeling the strain. And it hadn’t helped that the woman had pulled her hair awfully as she’d tugged it into shape.
    â€œMy apologies, my dear ,” Aunt Meg said haughtily, sounding every inch a noble as the coach finally came to a lurching halt. “I shall endeavor to remain silent while at this appointment should it please you. However, I have lived the ‘good life’ so long, one can never be sure of not meeting a previous…patron. Let us hope this lawyer of yours