Sorting them was one of her favorite pastimes. She catalogued them by bird of origin, color, size and of course, which were the prettiest. If she had extra feathers from the same type of bird, she wasn’t above using them to decorate a hat or two. Her small notebook and quill were on her lap, as she jotted down her most recent finds. Two from warblers, five chiff-chaffs, three cuckoos, and ten wagtails — though to be fair the ten were divided up between male and female feathers. Thank goodness. Otherwise some poor bird was flying around half-naked. Her thoughts turned to Mr. Radcliff. What an interesting man. She shook her head. Had that really occurred? The chance meeting with handsome Mr. Radcliff had come as a shock. Normally when she tried to climb trees and fell there wasn’t anyone around to help her up. What a pleasant surprise to have had him come to her rescue. Not that she needed rescuing, mind, but she’d enjoyed it all the same. Since her husband, the Earl of Graverly, had passed, she’d not taken much interest in men.
