“He's been on holiday,” Christopher explained. “And as he mentioned earlier,

he only got back last night. This is all my doing.”

She glared at him, and he held up his hands in mute apology. The pseudo-serious pantomime shattered when both of them broke into laughter. Mrs.

Bristol, in particular, laughed so hard her whole body shook, sending her white

side-curls dancing. The plump, smiling woman put Katerina instantly at ease, even though she was standing in front of a total stranger wearing her husband's

shirt—which covered her only to mid-thigh—and nothing underneath.

Christopher settled down to business. “Mrs. Bristol, this is my wife. In the process of removing her from a… terrible situation, all her clothing was lost. I will take her shopping tomorrow, but in the meanwhile, do you know of

anything she can borrow?”

“Yes,” the woman replied as she clasped Katerina's hand. “My daughter is

built a little like you. She left some old clothes with me. I keep them downstairs.

Does that interest you?”

“I can't be choosy,” Katerina explained. “I'll be thankful for whatever I can

get.”

“Just a moment. I'll be right back.”

A short time later she fluttered into the room with a pile of garments: a white

nightgown, a clean linen chemise, threadbare but serviceable pantalets and two

dresses. Katerina nodded in gratitude. “Thank you so much.”

“You don't need a corset, you're so slender,” the woman said.

Katerina smiled. “I wouldn't be able to fasten it anyway. Just a moment.” She hurried into the bedroom and emerged a short time later, comfortably clad in the

undergarments and one of the dresses, all unfastened down the back. Mrs. Bristol

circled her to help.

“Dear Lord, child, what happened to you?”

Drat, Katerina cursed in her mind, realizing the oversized chemise had dipped too low, revealing scars. She closed her eyes in shame.

Christopher gave the housekeeper a hard look. “I already told you.”

“You're a very good man, Mr. Bennett,” Mrs. Bristol said fervently.

“He certainly is,” Katerina agreed.

“Won't it hurt you if I fasten this?” Mrs. Bristol asked, and her kindness brought tears to Katerina's eyes.

“Maybe, but it needs to be done.” She controlled her desire to wince as Mrs.

Bristol bustled around tightening the tapes until the garment lay in position on her slender body. It does no good to make others suffer with me, she reminded herself each time a bruise or cut began to throb.

At last, Katerina's clothes had settled around her body, covering the scars and

lending her a semblance of normalcy. The housekeeper smiled sadly at her and

left the room, scrubbing her cheeks and muttering under her breath.

Kind woman. I pray she receives a blessing.

Then Katerina continued her preparations on her own. There didn't seem to

be a hairbrush anywhere in the apartment, so she borrowed her husband's comb

and smoothed out the tangles. She gathered up as many of the scattered hairpins

as she could find and simply pulled her hair back away from her face, twisting it

into a bun.

She struggled into her boots, groaning as she bent forward, and the scabs stretched.

“Do you need any help, love?” Christopher asked, hurrying towards her.

She waved him away. “The scabs feel solid today, and I didn't want to risk the new scars on my back becoming too rigid as they form,” she informed him.

"This discomfort is necessary, I'm afraid.”

A strange blend of understanding and anger crossed Christopher's face. “I

see,” he said.

She sent him a rueful smile and returned to tugging her boot laces. Then she

tried to rise, but a jolt of pain locked her into a bent-over position, like a crone.

This time she did reach out to her husband, and he helped her to rise without

complaint, taking advantage of her proximity to lay his hands gently on her hips

and kiss her forehead. Katerina regarded his face for a long moment.

Christopher shook his head. “I can't resist you, love.” His lips claimed hers.