Once in his quarters, I sat as demurely as I knew how, which frankly wasn’t that demure. But I was in the presence of a lord, after all, and he had introduced me as a lady. Odd as this was, it did explain his having bought me such a fine dress. At the time I hadn’t questioned it, being unfamiliar with the practice of buying nice things.

“Lord Corbluff,” I ventured hesitantly.

“Yes, milady?” he said with that disarming smile, turning abruptly from the charts and papers he’d been busily arranging and rearranging.

“Ah yes, that,” I fumbled for words, “That is to say, what I mean…you do know I’m not a lady, don’t you?” His smiled doubled in width then burst apart for a torrent of laughter. Red faced and shamed, I turned away, considering the sawdust covered floor and my own ungainly feet.

To my surprise, he knelt at my feet. “Milady,” he said with a playful smirk, “Of course I know you are not a lady. Just as I know I am not a Lord. But as long as only we two know these facts, my plany may profit.”