“No. The one trunk is all. And my valise.”
A look of puzzlement flitted over Cara’s features, but then, like all well-trained servants, she schooled her face. “That’s clever of you,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “Mr. Harding is generous. You can fill your wardrobe with the latest fashions and charge it all to his account.”
Addy wanted a nap more than she wanted her next breath, but her new husband might come home at any moment. “You know Mr. Harding better than I. Will you help me choose a dress that will be to his liking?”
Cara beamed. “I’d love nothing more.”
* * *
Addy sat in the chair nearest the head of the table with posture that would silence the harshest finishing governess, though she had lost the feeling in her backside and her legs. Her amber taffeta dress skimmed
