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was sweating slightly, her body glistening in the late-afternoon light still streaming in the window.
    The aftermath always left her feeling a bit ashamed, but the shame was almost pleasant, a heady mixture of post-orgasm pleasure and recklessness. She left the blinds open as she cleaned up and dressed again, daring someone to look in, even though she wasn’t sure what she would do if it actually happened.
    Astrid brought a kerosene lamp over to her desk and drew her ledger in front of her. The figures inside were depressing. Her debt column far exceeded her income column, and the four pounds she inked into the ledger did little to remedy the disparity. With a sigh, she shoved the ledger aside again, disturbing a sheaf of parchment in the process, which fluttered to the ground.
    Astrid picked up the papers and felt a pang as she looked at them more closely. When had she drawn these? A few months ago? Last year? She spread the most complete version across her desk.
    Bailey’s Felicitation Emporium , she had titled the diagram in large, sweeping letters, a blueprint for the shop she someday hoped to open. Astrid traced her fingers across the paper, brushing her drawing of the front counter and cash register, the display tables showcasing different devices, the salon where guests could lounge and drink tea, the back room where her most discerning clients could sample their new purchases. Her fingers lingered on her drawing of the spacious workroom in the back, organized with shelves of tools and parts.
    Astrid scoffed at her own optimism. How would she ever afford such a shop? She knew the cost, had calculated it all out in the back of her ledger, from the rent to the furniture to the little bell she would hang above her door. With her current financial situation, her shop was no more than a child’s fantasy.
    Her throat felt thick all of a sudden, and she tucked the blueprints away beneath her ledger.

Chapter Four
    Eli Rutledge imagined many different scenarios when his cousin Edwina asked him to speak at her latest Tea and Talk committee meeting. As businesspeople themselves, the committee members would probably have questions for him about his own successful shop. He was expecting some to be interested in his talk and others to just politely put up with him. He was expecting young women and middle-aged women, fashionable women and working-class women, but he wasn’t expecting the woman in the black boots.
    Amidst the crowd of chattering ladies, she remained silent and alert, studying him with no trace of shyness. He could feel her dark eyes on him as he looked around the room. It took all his concentration not to stare back at her, especially as she deftly brushed a few strands of hair off her forehead, drawing attention to her short, wildly tousled brown locks. Through several quick glances, he took in her entire ensemble. In addition to her black knee-high boots, she wore a skirt that barely brushed her knees, the fabric folded up into layers bunched thick at the bottom. As was fashionable with many young women at the time, she wore her black corset over her white, stiffly pleated blouse, the first few shirt buttons undone to reveal an expanse of skin between her collarbones. Eli found himself staring, and worse, caught her gaze. She raised one eyebrow, managing to look both annoyed and amused at the same time, and he looked deliberately away at Edwina.
    Sweet Edwina looked so excited that she might tremble apart. “Ladies, I am thrilled to have Eli Rutledge here with us today. As you all probably know, Mr. Rutledge is an accomplished watchmaker and purveyor of home goods, and he has a very successful business right here in the city proper. He’s even a member of the London Business Council. I’ve invited him to speak with our group, since many of us are working to set up businesses of our own, and I thought he could give us some valuable advice. He also has news of a wonderful