Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.
What shall arrive with the cycle's change?

--Robert Browning--

Lieutenant Andrew Flitter stood before the stable entrance in his strikingly red uniform, feet encased in boots now powdered with red dust. He reamined stock-still for a few seconds, wondering if his eyes had deceived him. Had Nevan just shoved a young man into that haystack?

His bright green eyes hovered to the corner of the stable and sure enough, a trousered leg stuck out of it.

"Is this a bad time?" the soldier asked hesitantly. Nevan had always had a few idiosyncrasies, and he supposed that was a nobleman's prerogative, but pushing boys into hay? That seemed to be overdoing it.

Realizing who his visitor was, Nevan hastily strode over to Mr. Flitter and shook his hand heartily. "Of course not! I haven't seen you in over a year, and you ask if it's a good time! How are you, my man?"

Within seconds, Andrew had reverted to his trademark jovial smile, the same one that had kept him marching over foreign lands. He clapped Nevan on the back. "Not too bad. A little sunburnt perhaps, but no damage done."

"You look red as a tomato," Nevan told him frankly. "All limbs accounted for?"

"As far as I know," Andrew replied with a laugh. "Not that the Canary Island men are very savage."

"I was actually thinking of the Canary Island women," Nevan joked. "Come on inside, let me pour you a drink. Why didn't Cyrus show you to the sitting room?" he wondered in a little irritation.

"Oh, he did. I just took the liberty of coming out here to look for you." Andrew turned his head to look at the haystack. "Wouldn't your friend like to join us then?"

"Friend? You should know by now I find friends overrated, Andrew m'boy."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Perhaps it's none of my business what you wealthy types do..."

Nevan promptly punched his shoulder. "That has nothing to do with it." Realizing the game was up, he called, "Mr. Oliver, would you like to accompany us?"

The bedraggled girl extracted herself from the haystack, looking a veritable mess. Hands clenched and hay sticking out of her clothes, she looked near ready for murder.

"Let me introduce you to my friend Lieutenant Andrew Flitter. Smile, you silly boy. Andrew, this is my uh, godson, erm..."

"Frederick Oliver, sir." Letitia shook Andrew's hand, though a little awkwardly since she wasn't yet used to greeting people the way men did.

"Yes, he stopped here for a night on his way up to Oxford. For spring term," he added, hoping that would make the lie foolproof.

"Jolly good; do you know George Scripps by chance? He's my cousin. Oh and dear Professor Hardy..."

"Alright, Andrew, don't overwhelm the boy. He's very shy," Nevan whispered. "Let's go back inside now, shall we?"

***

Letitia snapped her head up so sharply she felt sure she'd pulled a muscle. She had been tending to the cleaning of a boot when Nevan informed her of the existence of her twin sister.

"What?"

"You can be Frederick Oliver for now, but after tomorrow, you're back to being Letitia Oliver, Freddy's twin sister."

Letitia frowned over her boot, seeing several flaws with this plan. "Why would my sister come after I'd been here? Wouldn't it make sense for her to have accompanied me? And don't people know that my father only had a daughter? And--ouch!"

Always the effective pseudo-guardian, Nevan had cut off Letitia's criticism my flicking her nose. "Must you put a damper on my genius plans?"

She looked up at him frankly. "I wouldn't if they were indeed genius."

"Have you a better solution then, brat?"

Letitia realized that Nevan had already accustomed himself to her presence and had now taken to calling her nicknames. Not flattering ones, granted, but nicknames nonetheless.

"Not yet," she conceded.

"Well then, we'll have to do with this plan."

Andrew entered the room, musket in tow, which Nevan had requested to see. "Not harassing Mr. Oliver again, are you Nevan?"

"I think a guardian has the right to do that if he pleases," sniffed the Viscount.

Andrew paused in the doorway. "Guardian? Oh, that's a good one," he guffawed.

Letitia tried to hide a smirk at the rising angry color in Nevan's face.

"I'm perfectly serious."

"And perfectly sober?" Andrew tried.

"Yes, damn you!" Nevan stopped himself before he could slap the table in anger and looked guiltily over at the amused girl. He tried to cover over the profanity by sternly saying: "I mean, ahem, of course I'm sober."

The lieutenant seated himself on the same sopha as Letitia. "He's funning me, isn't he? For your sake, I hope he is, lad," Andrew said.

Letitia shook her head mournfully. "Unfortunately not, sir. Dreadful, isn't it?" Her brilliant green eyes gleamed mischievously, and Nevan looked ready to tweak her nose again.

Andrew set the musket down at his feet and began to have a friendly, though uncomfortable question and answer session with Letitia about her origins and family. Nevan, hoping to intervene, asked Andrew what his plans were for the night.

"Hm? Oh, I was thinking of visiting White's for a little frivolity and cards. Shall I see you there?" He turned to Letitia whose glanced over nervously at Nevan.

Nevan promptly said, "Oh no, he's leaving this afternoon. Wants to get to Oxford as quickly as possible."

"Nonsense!" cried Andrew. "Term doesn't start for another week. And Freddy here can postpone his coach ride, can't you Freddy?" Andrew wrapped an arm around "Freddy's" shoulders friendly-like. Letitia could have sworn she saw Nevan's whole body stiffen at the gesture.

The girl did not answer immediately. She knew enough of town life to know that girls were expected to be much more modest and prim than in the country. She'd also heard enough tales of men's adventures in London to know she would enjoy them as much as boys her age did, if not more.

But did she know that nothing could go wrong if she chose to stay a boy a few more days?

Nevan's condescending tone clinched the deal for her. "Frederick certainly may not--"

"Of course I can!" Letitia said defiantly.

Andrew's face lit with another smile, one which automatically drew one from Lita. "Wonderful. I'll see you both at six, then, shall I? Good day!" And Lieutenant Flitter, the only unknowing protector Letitia had, was gone.

As soon as Andrew had left, the Viscount swerved on his ward, a dangerous look on his face. "If you were a boy I would take my belt to you here and now," he snarled quietly.

Instead of cowering as she might be disposed to do, Letitia stood and met Nevan's look unwaveringly. "I will ignore that sir, in light of all you've done for me so far. But I am of age, you know, and--"

"No such thing! Twelve or twenty, you are unwed and thus a girl and my ward!"

Letitia felt a burning anger now, rising in her chest, threatening to overcome her. "Then I happily accept your previous offer. The sooner you find me a husband, the sooner you'll stop acting as though you own me. And the sooner I stop being your 'ward,' the better!"

"That goes double for me!" threw back Nevan as he marched from the room.

***

Letitia sorted through the contents of her valise in despair. Her only other coat, really Freddy's only other coat, was hideous. Certainly not fit for a dinner and cards party. And even if Nevan weren't sizzlingly angry with her, she would certainly never be able to wear one of his coats. She wouldn't be able to fill the space where his masculine shoulders, broad chest, and rippling muscles went.

Why did she suddenly feel as if she were the one sizzling now?

She hurled her empty valise onto the guest bed, in frustration with herself and the situation she'd created. It would prove much more complicated than she'd predicted, which, she admitted to herself, Nevan had known from the beginning (even when drunk).

A knock on the door shook her into consciousness, but before she could speak, the newcomer had rudely opened it already.

"Come in," Letitia said sarcastically.

Nevan looked grim. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"To get you some clothes, dash it! You look like an urchin, and if you must go out and be filthily improper and crossdress, I want you to do me credit."

Letitia did not quite follow the reasoning but had enough sense to dash out the door after Nevan.