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don’t labor in shops.’ ‘Proper ladies pull the laces on their corsets ‘til their eyes pop out.’ ‘Proper ladies don’t indulge in this velocipede fad.’” Her aunt had been so angry about “that obscene contraption,” as she’d called it, that Shae had prudently decided she would store it in a shed owned by Father’s bookkeeper.
    Shae climbed out of bed and limped across the room to examine the contents of her wardrobe . After a brief search, she pulled out a walking skirt and an unfashionably plain pearl gray waist. She wrinkled her nose at the corset she pulled out before tossing it onto the bed.
    “I never said that part about the eyes,” Alberta argued.
    “You certainly did. And you and Father have had me so convinced I’ll lose my head, I’ve been terrified to spend more than a moment talking with a boy. Imagine my surprise when King started trying to pawn me off on Ethan like a just-weaned kitten.”
    Alberta pursed her lips and then settled for an exasperated sigh . “We only want the best for you, child. Your father and I believe our biggest mistake was to let you go into the shop when She left.”
    Shae unceremoniously stripped off her nightgown and tossed it on the bed before pulling on her chemise and drawers . She hooked her corset at the front, but left the drawstrings loose to goad her aunt, though her narrow waist scarcely required cinching.
    “I’m not a child,” Shae protested as she tied on a modest bustle and then dressed, “and your biggest mistake had nothing to do with the shop . It was trying to pass off a piece of cut glass as a gem. I’m not, you know. I never will be, either. It’s time you both accepted that.”
    Alberta opened her mouth as if to argue, but the words died on her lips . Finally, she spoke, her voice softened by regret. “Perhaps it is. I’ll tell King you’re ill.”
    “You’d better not . I’m taking Samson.”
    This time, her aunt looked bemused . “I don’t believe so. After last night’s mischief, the gig is ruined. King will take Samson and the phaeton, so that leaves yo u ”
    “  On foot. Very well.”
    “You won’t get far on that foot.”
    Shae lifted her chin in challenge . “I’ll crawl if I must. But I am going to see Ethan.”
    Her door banged open . “The hell you are, Mary Shae,” King told her. “You’re coming to the shop. As long as you insist on being a part of my business, you’ll be there every day.” He was dressed for work, in a conservative brown suit. Nothing interfered with his work schedule. He hadn’t even missed a day when Shae’s mother disappeared.
    At his entrance, Shae recoiled instinctively . All she could think of was the smashed cage on the walk. “You killed my birds.” Her sentence failed to rise to indicate a question. When she saw his scowling face, she knew .
    He did not deny a thing . “Stop this foolishness at once. If you’re hell-bent on spinsterhood, you can damned well earn your keep."
    Normally, Shae dropped her gaze at her father’s demands or accusations, but not this time . “You killed them,” she repeated stubbornly.
    Alberta grabbed her by the arm . The older woman’s nails dug in painfully as she shrilled, “How dare you accuse your father? He’s a fine and generous man! More than She ever deserved! More than yo u ”
    Shae tore her arm away from her aunt’s grasp.
    “ Leave me alone. Both of you.”
    King glowered like an angry sea . “You’ll need to finish cleaning that smeared paint off the floor. Then I’ll see you at the store. The walk will do you good.”
    In his wake, Alberta left . She slammed Shae’s door behind her, as if to prove her brother was not the only Rowan who could leave a room emphatically.
    *
    A whiff of turpentine stung Shae’s nose and brought tears to her eyes. She glared down at the smear of blue and orange still left from her aunt’s earlier efforts with the varnished oak. She couldn’t care less if it stayed there until