"I hardly wanted to bring some girl who delights in dressing as a man home to my father."

I gritted my teeth; the notion that the journey from Yorktown was ten days from Philadelphia, if we managed to get our horses to go thirty miles per day, would prove to be irksome if William didn't mind his temper. "I never asked for you to escort me," I answered flatly. "If you recall correctly, it was General Fraser who did so."

William curled his lip at the direct mention of his sire. "Ah, yes. Thank you ever so much for reminding me of that," he snapped.

I crossed my arms, not even caring that I was likely wrinkling the fabric of one of the three gowns I had in my possession. "We may as well attempt to get along," I told him. "Show me some of those British manners all you nobility claim to have. You do consider yourself to be a gentleman, don't you?"

William glared at me from the other side of the carriage. "Or we could merely sit in silence for the next ten days," he suggested.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You don't like me."

It was not a question.

"Whether or not I like you, Miss Hathaway," he responded, snarling out the surname I'd gone with, "is immaterial. I am under orders from both General Fraser, who holds you in high regard, why I do not know, and my own superior, General Howe, to escort you to my father's home in Philadelphia. No more, no less."

"Oh, I see," I responded, nodding my head in a sarcastic manner. "I realize he is your father, General Fraser, I mean, but why should it matter what his opinion is? Clearly, you don't value him, especially given that he and you are on opposite sides of the war."

William clenched his hands into fists. "That is also immaterial," he very nearly growled, and turned to gaze out the window. He still felt my eyes on him after several moments of silence, however, and begrudgingly turned back to face me. "If you must know," he continued, in a very put-upon tone, "General Fraser is my adopted father's dearest friend. The two of them may be on opposite sides of this war, but they still respect one another."

I felt my tense position shifting as I mulled over his words for several moments. "You're angry with your father, Lord John Grey," I said softly, keeping quiet at the notion that the man himself was also my father—biologically speaking, of course, for, if one were to be technical, it was Roger MacKenzie who had raised me as his daughter, despite telling me never to call him 'Da', out of loyalty for John.

William's lip curled. "How on Earth do you do that?"

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Know I am angry with him when I haven't said a thing about it," he told me, his tone growing impatient and quickly.

"Your body language for one," I said, nodding to his clenched fists and altogether stiffness. "It also has to do with your tone of voice when you speak of him." I continued looking him over before I nodded my head. "Yes, it appears as though an argument has taken place... You haven't properly talked to him since then, have you?"

William sputtered, shaking his head. "That is enough!" he thundered, peering out of the window, nodding decisively, and smacking hard upon the roof of the carriage. "We'll stay here for the night, as the hour grows late!" he yelled.

I watched as the driver pulled off onto the side, off the main road, and towards a large and impressive-looking building, which I quickly deduced to be an inn. The sign declared it to be The Pleasant Pheasant, which I believed to be somewhere between amusing and horrifying. Just as I was getting the lay of things from the carriage, William was hauling me out of there like a sack of potatoes, and dragging me behind him.

"You're hurting me!" I hissed at him through gritted teeth.

William gave me an irritated expression, but nevertheless eased his grip upon my arm. "We'll tell the innkeepers that we want two rooms, as I'm not sharing with you," he whispered over his shoulder. "Be sure to tell them what you want for dinner."

"As long as it isn't pheasant," I muttered.

"You don't like pheasant?" William asked.

I shook my head. "Too gamey," I replied.

William hesitated for a moment, before proceeding to continue to haul me into the entryway of the inn, thankfully not one I'd stopped in on my journey to Yorktown, and stopped in front of the bearded gentleman who was working behind the bar, who had the air of someone in charge. "I would like to request two of your best rooms," he said firmly.

The barman sighed. "I'm not sure if we—"

William dug into his money bag and dropped a handful of gold coins onto the counter, raising an eyebrow at the man. "We only need them for the night."

"Lottie!" he called out.

A young girl, who I only assumed was the barman's daughter, hurried out from within the kitchen, her brown hair creeping just slightly from beneath her respectable-looking cap; she was mixed-race, and my heart suddenly hurt for her circumstances, given the time period. "Yes, Papa?" she asked.

"Remember that it's 'Thomas' or 'Mr. Clyde' during business hours, girl," he practically growled in her direction. "See to it that Mr...?"

"William Derwent," William told him, "and my sister, Henrietta."

"See to it that Mr. and Miss Derwent are given our best rooms, plus dinner for tonight and breakfast the next morning."

"Of course, Mr. Clyde," Lottie said softly, eyes downcast. "Do you have belongings?"

"One of my boys will see to your belongings," the barman said, waving it away.

Lottie motioned for us to follow her, leading us out of the tavern and up a wooden staircase located behind the wall. "You'll be in the Rooster's Quarters, Mr. Derwent, while Miss Derwent shall be lodging in the Hen's Chambers," she said softly, the stairs having a bit of squeak to them as we ventured further upwards into the old building. "Each have a fireplace opposite their respective four-poster, a large window, and an in-room bathtub." She continued to the top floor, where each side boasted one door, one with the words Rooster's Quarters on one, and, on the other, Hen's Chambers.

I watched as Lottie opened my borrowed bedroom first, stood back, and ventured across the landing to open William's. "Thank you, Lottie," I said softly.

Lottie gave me a shy smile as William walked past her, and slammed the door behind him. "I see that your brother is a gentleman of few words, Miss Derwent."

I found myself momentarily at a loss for words myself as I stared at William's door for a moment, before I turned to look at Lottie again. "Yes," I agreed.

"Please tell me that he was at least polite to you," Mama said.

I turned to face my mother, who was rocking Hans, my twin brother, in her arms, while Katya toddled around the room. I opened my mouth to answer, momentarily distracted as Katya walked over to me and lifted her arms. After a non-verbal exchange, I lifted her expertly onto my lap and found myself smiling down at her.

"You're a natural," Mama said quietly.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Mandy went to school for nursing," I replied. "She did quite a bit of volunteer work at the nearby hospital. Sometimes, I would go with her; they needed some people to hold pre-term babies..."

Mama raised her eyebrows. "Ah, you like babies, then?"

"I do," I confirmed, looking down at my sister, who should have been older than me, but there she was, sitting as a toddler, in my arms. "Uncle Roger and Auntie Bree had another baby, about a year after I went to live with them, a boy called Davy."

Mama looked touched. "Your grandmama Claire and grandda Jamie will love hearing that. I know that they will be saddened to know that they never return to the past..."

I bit my lip, knowing that I was the one who inadvertently stopped them from doing so. "I offered, as I got older, to willingly surrender myself into foster care," I said quietly, momentarily distracted by Katya's interest in the dark blue aquamarine pendant that I'd received for my eighteenth birthday from Uncle Roger and Auntie Bree, which I'd hidden in my belongings, not wanting the stones it mistake it for the gemstone I'd already selected.

My mother sighed, immediately looking guilty. "I didn't mean it like that..."

I shook my head. "It is no matter." I broke off, distracting Katya with my finger, which she promptly grabbed, grinning up at me with delight.

"Henwyetta!" she declared happily, her childlike nickname for me.

"I remember you leaving, you know," I said quietly, picking up Katya's little doll, and making her dance upon the cushion of the chaise I sat on, while Katya's blue eyes practically shimmered with glee.

Mama looked shocked. "What...? You do?"

I grimaced slightly. "Well, I remember you speaking to Uncle Roger and Auntie Bree about the social services," I amended slightly. "I remember waking up one morning and you being gone... I never cried, you know. I mean, I had to understand, because of the baby," I said, nodding to her swollen abdomen. "And, when I got older, Auntie Bree told me about how awful it was for Grandmama Claire, being without Jamie for twenty years... I couldn't do that to you, Mama. I see you, with Papa, the love between you..."

Mama sighed, looking guilty as sin. "Did you ever have boyfriends?" she asked softly.

I shook my head. "No, it didn't interest me."

Mama raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Do you..." She lowered her voice. "Do you have a preference for women, then?"

I very nearly laughed aloud. "Oh, good Lord, no!" I cried out. "And I'm not prejudiced either, not by a longshot. My best friend, Tessa, who was actually Dr. Craig's daughter, is a lesbian, and I had no issues with her. She and her girlfriend, Maeve, are attending the University of Aberdeen together. Tessa for forensic science, and Maeve for history; Tessa is actually the one who made me the forged documents—"

"The ones that assisted you in masquerading as a man?" Papa demanded, coming into the parlor, his eyes flashing.

I straightened up upon the chaise, momentarily stunned, as he all but ripped Katya from my arms in a protective manner.

"No, Papa, no!" Katya shrieked. "Want Henwyetta—!"

"Phaedre, please take Katya upstairs," Papa said, holding Katya out and away from him, while Mama's ladies maid came into the parlor, and took her out of there. He caught sight of Hans's lip trembling, and called out, "Venus!"

The nursery maid, Venus, came into the parlor then, looking unsure, but nevertheless followed orders, taking Hans out as well.

"John, you needn't have done that," Mama scolded, getting slowly to her feet.

Papa turned and looked at Mama, and immediately stepped forward, easing her back into her chair with a rather worried expression. "Claire said you are not to be upset, my dear—"

"Then don't make me upset, John, or our daughter," Mama told him firmly. "I know it will take some getting used to, but Henrietta is eighteen, and, with that, comes certain changes. She is no longer a child, John; you know that as well as I do."

"I am well aware of that, my dear," Papa told her gently, perching upon the other chair the room had on offer, but kept his hand in hers. He gave me a fleeting look, grimacing ever so slightly. "I am sorry, Henrietta, truly. I suppose it will take some getting used to, you being a young woman, and not a child."

I nodded my head at him. "Thank you, Papa." I hesitated for a moment, pulling a bit at my skirts, longer than the ones that my school uniform had had. "Tessa really was a wonderful friend to me, and it was my idea that she make the forged documents, not her..."

"I seem to recall that I, too, was in possession of forged documents once upon a time, John," my mother said softly, temporarily catching his attention.

Papa sighed. "Yes, my dear, I am aware, but those were to escape a war, not join one."

I smirked at Papa's train of thought. "I suppose you had a better reason for using forged documents, Mama, but, in the end, they brought you to Papa, and mine brought me to the two of you."

Mama looked delighted. "That is true," she said.

Papa looked slightly irritated, and yet, amused, that I'd discovered a way to turn what I'd done into a positive thing. "Hal and Minnie are to return to Philadelphia," he said at last.

I learned forward. "Hal is your elder brother, right?" I asked.

Papa nodded. "He is," he confirmed, "and, as a matter of fact, I've written to the pair of them about you, Henrietta."

I felt my eyes widening at that. "Oh? They know about Mama, then?"

"You were born at the Grey family home, my love, Argus House, alongside Hans," Mama explained, tears filling her eyes, likely at the memory. "At that time, I believed your father to be dead, and I had promised him that, in the event of his death, I would go to London to live with Hal and Minnie. Hal, as a duke and an earl, would be able to provide me with protection, as well as financial stability. Of course, I did want you, Hans, and Katya to be afforded a wonderful education as well, which Hal swore to me he would provide."

"You were educated, Henrietta, were you not?" Papa asked quietly. "I am sure that education has changed quite a bit since my time in school..."

"Yes, I'm sure it has," I answered softly. "For example, academies, as they are known now, are called secondary schools in the modern era."

Papa looked amazed. "Fascinating," he breathed.

"And, although women are permitted, encouraged, even, to have a university education, I went without one, as I was desperate to come here," I admitted, shrugging my shoulders. "I did very well on my final examinations, however, and was accepted into many universities. But, due to my narrowmindedness, I knew I had to come back here as quickly as possible."

"Your mother had a flair for languages," Papa said softly, shooting Mama a rather indulgent expression, which she seemed to bask in.

"Auntie Bree told me that," I confirmed, "so I knew I had to try very hard to master as many as I possibly could."

"What can you speak, then?" Mama asked.

"English, Gaelic, Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Ancient Greek," I said softly. "It would have been difficult, what with the classes I had to take outside school to master them all, in addition to my schoolwork and athletics, to attempt to find a Polish language class. I do hope you aren't disappointed in me," I told them.

Papa shook his head. "Of course not," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, and attempting not to appear so shocked. "I suppose you have no patience for needlework, then?"

I shook my head at him. "No, I don't," I admitted. "It wasn't something that was really encouraged when I was educated, I'm afraid. But Uncle Roger and Auntie Bree raised me in the Episcopal church, which was the Scottish equivalent of Anglican. They were Presbyterian, of course, but they knew that you would want me as a part of the Anglican community, which they respected wholeheartedly."

Papa looked satisfied with that. "I shall be even more grateful to them, then," he said quietly. "I suppose that other pursuits were provided at your school?"

"Classes," I corrected him gently, "and yes, as there were required ones, such as mathematics, sciences, English, geography, history, religious studies... I also took a course called home economics, which taught us about cooking."

Papa raised his eyebrows. "They teach that in modern schools?"

I nodded. "Yes," I said. "I actually really enjoyed it. Cooking was definitely something I enjoyed, other than athletics, most of all. Well," I said, finding myself flushing ever so slightly at that, "I also enjoyed acting."

"Dramatics?" Papa asked, appearing torn.

I hunched my shoulders. "My instructors said I had a flair for the dramatic. I also loved to sing, which is where the Italian and French were considered beneficial, due to so many operatic songs written in those languages."

"Well, next spring, you could easily debut for Queen Charlotte in London," Papa observed, his eyes kind.

"We've spoken to Hal and Minnie about it, and we've agreed that it would be best if you were a cousin of the Grey family, as opposed to the Hathaway one," Mama explained. "That way, you could easily secure a better match."

Papa smiled. "My father's younger brother, Geoffrey, was always known as a philanderer, but he did marry towards the end of his life, to a woman called Beatrice, who was very respectable, even though Uncle Geoffrey had quite the reputation. Both Geoffrey and Beatrice are gone now, but with the right amount of planning and deception, we could easily pass you off as their daughter, whom your Uncle Hal and I can provide with a sufficient dowry."

I felt my mouth go dry. "Oh," I said softly, lowering my eyes.

"I know it sounds bad, darling," Mama said gently, "but it would do you good to have a proper societal debut, as you are the niece of a duke and an earl. You could easily find a suitable match with your credentials."

I swallowed. "Perhaps I could think on it?" I asked.

Papa nodded. "Of course," he said quickly. "We have until the winter to decide, anyhow. If we do decide to go to London for your debut, we will have to leave early, as it takes a full month by ship to get there. We would also have you meet with a seamstress to get you acquainted with the latest styles of London, and you would need a white dress—"

"A white dress?" I demanded, flushing pink. "For what?"

Mama patted my hand. "It's the typical attire to debut to Her Majesty Queen Charlotte in," she informed me patiently.

"It is to show the world that you're pure," Papa explained.

A knock at the door put a stop to the conversation, and Mrs. Figg entered. "Pardon the intrusion Lord John, and Lady John, but Mrs. Murray is here."

"Oh, how lovely," Mama said, beaming. "Send her in please, Mrs. Figg."

"Mrs. Murray?" I asked, turning towards Mama.

"Jamie's nephew, Ian's, wife," Mama told me. "She is around your age and I thought it would be prudent for the pair of you to meet."

"She will make a lovely friend for you," Papa assured me.

I turned as a young woman, who had the look of a Quaker about her, stepped into the room, her dark brown hair not an inch out of place, and her brown eyes kind. I raised my eyebrows at the notion that my parents were so tolerant as to let someone who wasn't typically considered a Christian into their home. However, as Mrs. Murray stepped forward, I surmised that, considering that Papa had manumitted all the servants in the house, perhaps there was some hope after all.

Mrs. Murray smiled at Papa and Mama and gave a short curtsy. "Ian's away on his latest scouting mission, so I thought I would stop by, but it seems thee are otherwise engaged."

"Nonsense, Rachel, you are always welcome here," Papa assured her in a gentle voice. "Allow me to present Henrietta. Henrietta is my late uncle, Geoffrey's, daughter. She has come to stay with us in Philadelphia for a time, as London was proving too dreary for her."

"She needed a change of scenery," Mama explained with a smile.

"Oh, this must be who thee named your Henrietta for, God rest her soul," Rachel said, lowering her eyes with modesty and respect, while I fought to control a gasp at the notion that my parents had been literally telling people that I was deceased. Rachel looked up again, and stepped towards me, smiling. "How do you do, Miss Grey?"

I did my best to smile as I got to my feet; it was hardly Rachel's fault that she had been told false information. "I am very well, thank you, Mrs. Murray," I responded.

Rachel shook her head. "Call me Rachel, please."

"Well, then you must call me Henrietta," I told her, offering my hand, which she shook.

"I was just on my way to the market," Rachel said softly, her eyes filled with kindness. "Perhaps, if your aunt and uncle have no objection, you would care to join me."

"I see no issue with that," Papa said.

Mama shook her head. "No, of course not. You two ladies enjoy yourselves."

Rachel grinned and took me out into the hall, standing by as I lifted my cloak down from its peg along the wall. "Did thee reside at Argus House in London?"

I blinked, aware by now that Argus House was the official residence of the Grey family, but also knew that there were several properties that they owned. "No," I said, shaking my head as I draped the cloak around my shoulders. "I spent most of my childhood in Scotland, actually. My father," I continued, as we stepped out of doors, "passed on before my mother did. My mother, Beatrice, hailed from Scotland, and made sure that I had a few private tutors. She believed in equal education for all."

"Oh, thee must speak many languages, then," Rachel said softly.

I gave her a soft smile. "A fair few," I replied, stepping down the trio of stairs carefully, not wanting to ruin my skirts. "Alexandra and I have discovered that we speak the same languages, although I myself do not speak Polish."

Rachel led the way along the sidewalk, seemingly considering my words. "What else did thee learn in your education?"

"History, geography, basic mathematics, some of the sciences... It was all quite fascinating, to tell you the truth. My tutors were impressed," I said with a small shrug of my shoulders. "I suppose one could say my education was not that of an ordinary woman."

Rachel smiled. "But it is quite wonderful that thee had such an opportunity," she said quietly. "I know my elder brother, Denny, had quite the education in London. He and his wife, Dottie, who is also a cousin of yours, have many long-winded discussions about it."

I bit my lip, considering it; Dottie would likely be harder to convince, so I hoped that Papa had a potential ace up his sleeve. "Does Dottie live in town with Denny?" I asked.

"The two of them are currently with the Continental Army," Rachel explained. "Denny is a doctor, and Dottie works as his assistant."

"Oh, they must know Claire very well, then," I replied.

Rachel beamed at the mention of Claire. "Oh, yes, we all adore her, and Jamie," she replied with a nod. "It was so tragic when she got shot. Poor Jamie would never leave her side..."

"That is true loyalty, and love," I breathed.

Rachel looked askance at me as we rounded a bend. "How old are thee, Henrietta?"

"Eighteen," I said softly.

"Did thee leave behind a young man in Scotland?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No," I replied, "no men in Scotland to speak of."

Rachel smiled. "Will your uncle be selecting a husband for thee, then?"

I did my best to look straight ahead, pretending to be interested in the architecture around us. "I don't believe he will, no."

"Well, as His Grace the Earl of Melton is the head of the family, perhaps it will fall to him to make a match for thee," Rachel responded. "Oh, here we are," she said, once we had reached the end of the block, "the market."

I breathed out a sigh of relief; surely, the vendors would prove a worthy distraction, and I had a small money purse that Papa had instructed me to keep on my person at all times. I knew that herbs and soaps were sold here, so, perhaps, I could make a small purchase. "It all looks quite lovely, what with the smatterings of color here and there."

"Ian will be home this evening, and I need to get some produce for our supper," Rachel explained, leading the charge towards the booths. She negotiated brilliantly, purchasing some carrots, turnips, onions, and cabbage, leading me to believe that she was cooking some sort of stew. "He is quite fond of vegetable stew, and I've made a lovely loaf of bread as well."

"I love to cook," I said quietly, assisting Rachel in holding her purchases. "Baking bread was something that took me a while to master, but I grew to love it."

Rachel beamed. "Not many women of leisure can say that they cook, or, the ones that do, never admit to it. It's seen as servant's work," she explained, as we ventured deeper into the market. "I know a lady who sells soaps. Perhaps you would like some? Lavender is her specialty."

"Oh, that sounds like heaven," I said, stepping forward.

Rachel smiled and walked beside me. "Thee seems quite pleased with the prospect," she mused as she nodded towards the booth in question, before she looked up again, momentarily distracted by something, or someone. "Oh, that is interesting," she mused, her voice light, although it did have a bit of confusion lurking within it.

"What is?" I asked, smiling at the vendor opposite me, as I began sniffing at her soaps. I decided on a lavender bar, per Rachel's recommendation, and counted out the required coins for it.

"I had no idea that William was in town," she mused. "After Yorktown, I believed that he would wish to stay close to the British Army, what with the tragedy of them losing the battle."

I felt my blood running cold as the vendor handed me the bar of soap and thanked me, whereupon I turned and noticed William in the crowd, staring at us. I trembled from beside Rachel, not altogether sure what to do.

"Is thee unwell?" Rachel asked softly, lifting her hand and gently pressing it against my forehead. "Thee appears as if thee has seen a ghost."

I turned back and looked at Rachel. "Not a ghost," I whispered, although my voice squeaked, as I knew entirely well that seeing William could prove to be the beginning of my undoing.