He stood, looked out the window, at the fog creeping up his steps—steps Lyle and Alicia had traipsed two hundred years ago—and wondered what had happened to the pair. Had she succeeded in running away? Had Lyle died a slow, lingering death—alone?

Stephen knew it was wicked of him, but he hoped so.

It came to him that Hector was still alive, and at this very moment, he was probably sleeping a fine sleep. Soon he’d wake and have a hearty meal and continue living his comfortable life, all the while causing Jilly tremendous pain.

It wasn’t right.

And it wasn’t too late, either.

Stephen couldn’t do anything about Lyle, but he could do something about Hector.

He’d find him. And he’d make him pay.

* * *

The next morning Jilly kept her hand on the counter, straightened her spine, and prepared herself for another disappointment. Otis was outside with his bell, calling a meeting at Hodgepodge. She insisted he wear his town crier regalia to do it, too. Reluctantly, he’d agreed. He’d stood silent, forlorn, while she placed the tricorne hat on his head and wished him luck.

Now he rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Through the fog, he called, “Emergency meeting at Hodgepodge!”

At one point, he came to the bookstore window and stared at her mutely. She knew what he was thinking. No one was coming. He should stop now.

“I can’t bear thinking of you enduring any more rudeness directed toward you,” he’d said earlier as he’d reluctantly put his arm through the magnificent scarlet coat she’d held out for him. “The ignominy you’ve suffered already is more than I can bear.”

She’d smiled at him and said firmly, “I can bear it. I’m stronger than I realized. And so are you.”

She’d patted him on the back then and sent him on his way.

While she waited now, she wondered what Hector would think if he’d arrived home last night and this morning would find her gone. No doubt he’d come straight to Hodgepodge. This time, however, she wasn’t going to go back with him.

No more hiding.

She had to fight back.

This was her only life, and she was going to live it without fear.

This time, she was going to tell him to go away. And if he tried to pick her up over his shoulder and force her to go back, she’d scream and thrash and pummel him.

But she didn’t think it would go that far. Because if Hector did show up, the first thing she’d do was stand behind her counter, where Papa’s small pistol was now sitting in a drawer. She’d never thought she’d use it when she’d taken it with her from home, but she was a different person now.

No longer manipulated.

No longer hiding.

She was going to fight to stay at Hodgepodge. She’d cling and cling and cling until something or someone managed to tear her away.

She clung now to hope while the bell rang.

The first to show was Susan, with Thomas. At the door, she looked tentatively at Jilly. “Are you all right?” she said, her voice stricken, her eyes wide.

“Yes,” Jilly said, even as she felt a great sadness wash over her about Stephen.

“I’m so glad you’re back!” Susan opened the door wider, and Thomas came running in, his hair wet and slicked neatly over his head.

Jilly felt an immediate surge of happiness. At least one family was welcoming her back, the very first one who’d greeted her when she’d arrived on Dreare Street.

Thomas hugged Jilly around her legs. “You went away yesterday. My mother couldn’t even sing me to sleep last night, she was so sad.”

Susan hugged her next, a long, lingering embrace. When she pulled back, understanding passed between them.

“Are you all right?” Jilly asked her. “Even though you couldn’t sell your gowns and mobcaps?”

Susan grinned. “I’m fine.” She colored. “I hate to say this right now in the midst of your suffering, but even though I sold only one gown in the time the fair was open, things are very good. I sold that gown to a fine lady named Lady Harry, and she told me she’d tell all her friends in Mayfair about me. She’s a friend of Captain Arrow’s.”

“Wonderful!” Jilly said, even though her heart ached at hearing Stephen’s name.

“That’s not all,” Susan said. “Nathaniel proposed last night. I know we don’t have much to live on, but he loves me, Jilly. And I love him.”

“I love him, too!” said Thomas.

“I’m so happy for you both.” And she meant it. Jilly hugged Thomas, then Susan. Genuine happiness had created a new glow in her friend’s eyes.

“But now we’re worried about you,” Susan said, squeezing Jilly’s fingers.

“Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, no matter what happens here.”

The worst had already happened. She’d lost Stephen. As far as she was concerned, everything else that occurred in her lifetime would be manageable.

“The only reason we didn’t arrive sooner,” Susan said, “was that Thomas was in his bath. And then we couldn’t find his shoes.”

“Yes,” Thomas piped up with the droll disinterest of a child. “Mother was quite frantic to get here. She told me I didn’t even have to make my bed first.”

Jilly and Susan laughed. In the distance, Otis rang his bell and called, “Emergency meeting at Hodgepodge!”

She felt a pang of doubt return. Would anyone else come? But she suppressed it by grinning at Thomas. “Let’s go find your bird book, shall we?”

When she led him to the back table, the door opened again.

It was Pratt, Nathaniel, and several other young men who’d helped with heavy lifting and cleaning the street in preparation for the fair.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of them. She smiled and said simply, “Thank you for coming.”

Nathaniel and the young men gave her shy grins and didn’t say much. Nathaniel made a beeline for Susan. The other fellows shuffled in awkwardly and didn’t appear to know what to do with themselves. But Jilly directed them to the delicious scones and pot of tea she’d made for anyone who cared for some.

Pratt, on the other hand, came straight to her and raised her hand to his lips. “I am very glad, my dear lady,” he said in his lovely Italian accent, “that you’ve returned to your home. We were concerned about you.”

“Thank you,” she said.

A frown creased his brow. “Have you seen Miss Hartley yet this morning?”

“Not yet.” She sensed his disappointment. “But I do hope she’ll come to the meeting, even though she’s not actually a resident of Dreare Street.”

“How could you think I’d stay away?” a voice came from the door. It was Miss Hartley, and she smiled softly at Pratt, and then at Jilly.

He strode over to her and kissed her hand as well, but he lingered extra long.

She dimpled. “I’m so glad you’re back, Miss Jones. And Mr. Pratt”—she took a deep breath—”you’re a wonderful man, just the way you are.”

He smiled modestly. “Thank you. And you are a wonderful lady.”

They both stared into each other’s eyes, and Jilly and Susan exchanged an amused glance.

The next people to walk in were Mrs. Hobbs and her tall, pale children. Mrs. Hobbs looked gravely at Jilly, and she felt her stomach clench. The children looked quickly away from her when she greeted them and went immediately to find Thomas.

Mrs. Hobbs came to Jilly and took her hands. “I’ve something very important to say.” Her mouth was set and firm.

Jilly felt a slight burning behind her eyes. She knew she’d disappointed her friends—she’d hated to lie to them—and now one of them was going to call her to task.

“Miss Jones,” Mrs. Hobbs said in a low, serious voice, “you’ve deceived us.”

“I-I know.” Jilly sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Hobbs put up a finger. “There’s someone at the door who wants you to know how he feels about your being here on Dreare Street under false pretences.”

Jilly looked over and saw Mr. Hobbs there. He gripped his tall hat in his hands and looked at her with a baleful expression.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming to visit, Mr. Hobbs.”

It was the first time he’d ventured into the store.

He glowered and stepped around two lads eating scones and came to stand in front of her. “Miss Jones—for I cannot think of you as Mrs. Broadmoor—what you did was extremely … unconventional.”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

He clenched his jaw. “But I can’t help thinking that a woman who was trying to help her entire street—however nosy she was—must have had an excellent reason for hiding her identity. I want to do all in my power to help you if your aim is still to pull Dreare Street out of the pit of foggy despair in which we now wallow.”

Jilly blinked, not sure she was hearing correctly. Was Mr. Hobbs saying he wanted to help?

Evidently so, because the very edge of his mouth curved upward.

“T-thank you,” she stammered. “I’m overwhelmed.”

“Don’t be,” he said flatly. “I was a pompous ass. It took my wife threatening to leave me last night, the same way you’d left your husband, to make me see how wrong I was.”

Mrs. Hobbs had a twinkle in her eye. “That’s right,” she said, lifting her chin. “I told him if Miss Jones can succeed on her own selling books, I can do the same.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “And I think I know how.”

“What is it?” Jilly asked.

Mrs. Hobbs smiled. “A receipt for a special tea. And Jilly, I made it up myself. I may not be very good at following other people’s receipts—my meat pasties were a disaster yesterday—but I’m excellent at following my own intuition. And I know, my dear, that we have a winner here. You must trust me on this, the same way we’ve trusted you.”