She’d ridden into town to post a letter to her mother and to call on the vicar and his new wife. She could have taken the curricle, however for her one of the pleasures of the borderlands was the different set of rules that governed young women. Here, if she rode astride, it might be considered unusual, but it was by no means shocking. Well, Agnes had been shocked. But the woman had been wise enough to keep her opinion to herself. So Sarah had taken the refreshed mare and come into town to do her duty as sister to the predominant landowner in this part of the Tweed River valley. Now, as their visit was winding down, Mrs. Liston, the vicar’s wife, smiled at Sarah. That smile faded a little, however, when they stepped into the yard and she spied not a carriage, but a mare tethered outside the garden. “You must plan to attend the subscription ball tomorrow evening, Miss Palmer. I’m certain Mr. Liston would be pleased to retrieve you in his carriage. Woodford Court is not so very far,”
