Tracie Peterson - A Lady of High Regard

TRACIE PETERSON

A Lady of High Regard
Copyright 2007
Tracie Peterson

Cover design by Brand Navigation/Deanna Pierce
Author photo by Mark Dixon
Cover photography by Steve Gardner, PixelWorks Studios, Inc.

Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwisewithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Peterson, Tracie.

A lady of high regard / Tracie Peterson.

p. cm. (Ladies of liberty; no. 1)

ISBN 978-0-7642-0401-2 (hardcover: alk. paper) ISBN 978-0-7642-2777-6 (pbk.) ISBN 978-0-0762-0402-9 (large-print pbk.) 1. Women journalistsPennsylvania PhiladelphiaFiction. 2. SocialitesFiction. 3. Philadelphia (Pa.) History19th centuryFiction. I. Title.

PS3566.E7717L33 2007

813.54dc22

2007011981

To Ramona,
a beautiful lady of high regard
who has always been there for me.
I thank God for our blessing of friendship.

T RACIE P ETERSON is the author of over seventy novels, both historical and contemporary. Her avid research resonates in her stories, as seen in her bestselling H EIRS OF M ONTANA and A LASKAN Q UEST series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana.

Books by Tracie Peterson
www.traciepeterson.com

A Slender Thread What She Left For Me Where My Heart Belongs

S ONG OF A LASKA

Dawns Prelude Mornings Refrain Twilights Serenade

A LASKAN Q UEST

Summer of the Midnight Sun

Under the Northern Lights Whispers of Winter

Alaskan Quest (3 in 1)

B RIDES OF G ALLATIN C OUNTY

A Promise to Believe In A Love to Last Forever

A Dream to Call My Own

T HE B ROADMOOR L EGACY *

A Daughters Inheritance An Unexpected Love

A Surrendered Heart

B ELLS OF L OWELL *

Daughter of the Loom A Fragile Design These Tangled Threads

LIGHTS OF L OWELL

A Tapestry of Hope A Love Woven True The Pattern of Her Heart

D ESERT R OSES

Shadows of the Canyon Across the Years Beneath a Harvest Sky

H EIRS OF M ONTANA

Land of My Heart The Coming Storm

To Dream Anew The Hope Within

L ADIES OF L IBERTY

A Lady of High Regard A Lady of Hidden Intent

A Lady of Secret Devotion

R IBBONS OF S TEEL

Distant Dreams A Hope Beyond A Promise for Tomorrow

W ESTWARD C HRONICLES

A Shelter of Hope Hidden in a Whisper A Veiled Reflection

Y UKON Q UEST

Treasures of the North Ashes and Ice Rivers of Gold

with Judith Pella

Table of Contents

Philadelphia
June 1852

A slight breeze blew across the room, causing Mia Stanleys single candle to flicker and dance. Leaning away from the writing desk where shed worked most of the evening, Mia pressed a hand to her growling stomach. She was starving, but there was no time to indulge. And at this hour, their cook, Mrs. McGuire, would be quite cross to have her kitchen dirtied.

Mias papers suddenly scattered as the breeze increased. Stuff and nonsense, she muttered, scurrying to recover her work. Mia decided then to conclude her writing for the evening. As if on cue, the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs began to chime. It was nine oclock.

Time had gotten away from her. Without thought to blot her last line of writing, Mia stacked her papers and secured them by placing several copies of Godeys Ladys Book atop. She would no doubt be late for her meeting if she delayed much longer.

Glancing down at her silk gown, Mia knew it would be unsuitable for the tasks ahead. Yet she could hardly call for Ruth to come and help her change. That would take too much time.

I should have thought to have them help me when I first retired, she said. The pale blue gown had been quite appropriate for an evening of refined dinner guests and music but would cause her too much attention in the poorer section of town.

Then an idea came to mind. Her mother was known for discarding her gowns and giving them to the maids and such when shed grown tired of them. Mia had pulled one such gown from the pile just before Ruth had happily taken the collection away. The gown would be large enough to pull on over the silk and was conservative enough to hide any immediate suggestion of wealth. As she recalled, her mother had only used the dress for gardening and overseeing the cleaning of the attic.

Struggling in the dim light, Mia adjusted the gown and did up the buttons, grateful they were on the front of the bodice instead of the back. Wrapping her hip-length blond hair in a tight knot, Mia covered the mass with a scarf in the style of the fishermens wives and slave girls. With this accomplished, she found her oldest and ugliest shawl and pulled it tight around her shoulders. It was plenty warm outside, but the shawl would age her appearance even more. Instead of looking twenty-four, she hoped the costume would make her at least a believable thirty or thirty-four.

Better still if I looked fifty.

Mia tucked a few coins into her pocket, knowing that a little money often proved useful in exchanges of information. She worried that if she didnt hurry, shed never reach the church in time to meet with Mrs. Smith. The woman had only agreed because Mia had promised to keep her identity a secret, and Mia feared that if she was late the woman might be too frightened to stay.

Taking up the candle, Mia opened the door slowly and listened. The deafening silence assured her that the house was finally at rest. Her parents were blessedly people of the clock. They kept their hours as a matter of serious consideration. Lyman Stanley was known to say that a man could not run a business or family without strict adherence to the time. And because of such a belief, he was now in bed, most likely fast asleep despite the fact that there was still a dusky glow of sunset in the summer skies.

Mia tiptoed across the highly polished oak floors. The candlelight reflected the disapproving stares of ancient ancestors whose portraits lined the vast hall. Great-grandfather Stanley seemed particularly perturbed this evening, Mia thought as she caught his narrowed eyes and tight expression.

Im doing this for a good cause, she told him as if admonishing a child. The candle flickered, and she almost imagined the old gentleman had offered an exasperated sigh. It did nothing to deter Mia.

Knowing shed be less likely heard exiting the drawing room door to the gardens, Mia carefully pushed back the extravagant folds of her mothers lace curtains and unlatched the French doors. They didnt make so much as a creak, but the rush of air blew out her candle and instantly left Mia in darkness. Outside, the light was fading fast, and while the moon seemed to offer some assistance, Mia paused to decide whether she should take a lantern.