Steve was half-way through his morning routine when a ruckus started from upstairs. The wail of the smoke detector caused his hearing aid to squeal in his ear. He groaned and went upstairs to find out what Margaret did.

He coughed as he entered the smoke filled kitchen. He opened the window, snatched a metal pan, and waved it in the air to disperse the smoke so the detector would stop.

"That thing is damn hazard," Margaret shouted, pointing at the toaster.

"It's just a toaster," Steve rolled his eyes and gathered the numerous pieces of burnt to a crisp.

"You'd think the General of Electric would have more pride in his inventions," Margaret huffed. Her disheveled state would have been funny if Steve hadn't've been so annoyed. "Press the lever twice and you get charcoal, yet once merely produces warm bread! So therefore the toast needs one-and-a-half pushes in order to receive the desired browning."

"You know what? Nobody gives a shit about pushing the toast down twice!" Steve trashed the charcoal bread. "Because everyone pushes their toast down twice."

"Breakfast is not thus way!" she argued.

"Oh right, because food is a time of reflection and study," he retorted.

"You mock me, but when you wake up one morning to a hearty breakfast of honey-roasted ham, topped with a fried egg and warm freshly bread baked in a stone oven, smothered with marmalade and fresh creamery butter then perhaps you would understand."

He stared up at her, mesmerized. "Say that again."

"Excuse me?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Okay," Steve thought about his words carefully. "I need spokesperson and I think you are perfect. If you do this for me, I will stop pushing for you to go home and you can use my Ma's tea set. Here's the catch. I need you in your old clothes."

"That is not an easy feat," she warned.

"I'll help where I can, just please," he clasped his hands together and looked up at her pleadingly.

Oh. How could she say no to those big, blue eyes? "Getting dressed is not an easy feat for a lady."

"Like, I said, I'll help."

Margaret's cheeks flushed. "I've never been in my undergarments in front of a man before."

"Oh," he blushed. "I can cover my eyes."

"But you have to tie up my corset and add the tapes and the bustle. I can put on my shirt, then the skirt has to be put on and the rest, I shall do myself."

"Wow… okay." Steve took a deep breath. "I'll cover my eyes and then I can tighten the corset."

"Right," he watched as she gathered her clothing and pulled a key from her pocket.

She grunted and set a giant suitcase onto the kitchen table. He glanced over her shoulder when she opened it up and saw numerous wooden and silver boxes. She gently set out the items and removed the items she told him about.

"How much did you fit in there?" He asked.

"Angelina is a very good packer," she replied with more than a hint of pride. "I could have the same amount of clothing as my aunt and Angelina could fit it into half the luggage. Remove them and there's not a single wrinkle."

Steve quickly averted his eyes when she undressed. When he peeked and saw the underwear, he lowered his hands. That wasn't even a swimsuit.

"That's underwear?"

She jumped and held her hands over her chest. "Yes. Do you mind?"

He scoffed. "Women wear less than that out in public." He was already starting to wonder if she was for real or just an escaped mental patient. He still wasn't fully watching her. He wasn't a perv.

"Oh." She glanced at him and slid the corset over her head. She pulled up her breasts into the cups.

Okay, that caught his attention. He flushed and forced himself to look away. She turned her back to him.

"Not too tight, please," she said softly.

"Right, no problem." Still blushing, he stepped forward and tightened the ribbons through the holes one by one. He went through it once, just to make sure it was secure. Her breathing hitched and he quickly loosened them. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," she assured him. "It's just a bit hard on the skin."

"Right…" he tied off the top.

He saw the hesitation as Margaret faced him with the bustle. He couldn't help but look at her long scar before his gaze slightly lowered.

"Please, don't stare," she asked.

He snapped his eyes up to hers. "I- I didn't mean to. I mean you– I– er."

"It happened on accident." She said. Oh. The scar. "It makes it difficult to wear evening dresses. My aunt makes it very well known that she hates the constant use of day dresses."

She turned once more so he could tape on the bustle.

"Right, no," he shook his head forcing himself back on track and taped the bustle to her butt. "I… since you're staying. Well, if they choose you to be their spokesperson. After they film the commercial, you won't have to wear these clothes ever again. They'll give you a paycheck up front and then you'll get paid smaller amounts as the commercial is on air, since they're using your image."

"I understood very little," Margaret admitted. "But I'll trust what you are saying is true."

"I might be surly right now, but I am honest."

"A little too honest," she waved him away and she put on her underskirt and then her shirt, then her heavier overskirt on top of that. She tied up her neck scarf, pinned her brooch to that, layered her vest over that, and then put on her coat. "There."

Steve watched as she brushed out her brown curls with a silver brush. She moved to the hall mirror and simply pinned them back. She returned and applied red to her lips, then put on her jewelry. She turned to Steve.

"How do I look?" she smiled.

Steve found himself inspired by her beauty. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

"Was Lucky walked?"

"Of course."

"Great. Let me grab my bag and we'll go." He clamored out the window and up the fire escape. He forced himself to calm down. Now was not the time to get a crush on a beautiful Victorian Duchess who is most likely just a crazy person.

He returned and led her out of the apartment.

They barely arrived barely in time at the grey building. Steve led Margaret down the hallway. Thor was there waiting for them.

"Thor, Margaret. Margaret, Thor," Steve introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you," Margaret automatically held out her hand.

Thor gave it a light kiss. "Pleasure is mine."

"Thor, show Margaret to the filming area and tell her what to do. I need to go be in the booth with the client." Steve ordered.

"Yes, Mr. Rogers."

Steve stepped into the booth just as the client was getting agitated.

"Look, can we just pick one?" the man said. "The margarine people already found their guy!"

"Wait, we have just one more person," Steve said. He couldn't lose his chance.

"Look, the slot is in two weeks we have to pick someone," Gilmore said, giving Steve a look.

"Please, just trust me," he glanced at the screen and saw Margaret in front of the camera as well as the men from the test audience looking at their monitors with a dazed smile.

"Look at them, they were in a coma all day and now they're wide awake," he walked over to see Margaret from his spot. "To them, she's a dream. She's polite, elegant, greets you when you walk into a room. Buy her bread and perhaps your stomach will shrink and she'll come to your door."

"Fine, whatever," the client sat back. Steve could tell that the men in this booth like Margaret too.

"You better be right," Gilmore lightly threatened.

"Is it to be taken on Geraldo?" Margaret looked at the man behind the camera.

"Yes," he replied. "Begin speaking when I say action."

Margaret readjusted herself and looked straight into the camera.

"And… action!"

Margaret smiled serenely. "Warm, stone oven-baked bread. Is there anything more comforting? I say there is. When you eat Farmer's Bounty gluten-free spelt bread. You get all the luxury of your breakfast, without adding to the luxury of your waistline. Farmer's Bounty."

"And, cut!"

Steve noticed her smile fall a bit. He also noticed her breathing becoming stuttered. She put a hand to her chest and frowned. He was ready to run in there when she straightened up and rest her hand back on her stomach.

"Alright," the client nodded decisively. "I like her."

"We'll start filming Monday," Gilmore nodded. "And I think our decision about the merger has become a lot easier to make."

Steve grinned and nodded. "Thank you." He and the client left the booth to meet Margaret.

The client shook Margaret's hand hard. "Hi, what's your name?"

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," she replied and shook her hand out.

"Welcome to television," the man smiled and passed Margaret an envelope.

She took it, folded it neatly, and stuck it into her skirt pocket. "Thank you very much for seeing me today."

"See you again on Monday," he turned and left.

Gilmore met them outside of the building and whapped Steve on the back. Steve's knees buckled slightly and he grabbed onto Margaret's arm.

"Gotta hand it to you, Rogers," he smirked. "Maybe you are Vice President material." He turned and gave Margaret a lecherous stare. "Where'd you find her?"

"I live in his building," she replied.

"Huh, you two dating?"

"Uh, no," Steve shook his head.

"Hm," he rested his hand on her arm. "Perhaps we could go to dinner. Maybe talk some more about your bread."

Margaret scowled, but before she could defend herself Steve stepped in. "Boss or no boss, you can't talk to a woman like that."

"Relax, Rogers," he held his hands up. "I'm just flirting. She's fine with it."

"Really, I am not. I cannot even pretend to feel flattered by your comment." She looped her arm with Steve's and walked away. "I could've taken care of myself, you know."

"Yeah, but it's nicer when you don't have to," he shrugged. "Besides, he's being relocated to England. So, I won't have to see him again after this merger."

"A very sad send off for everyone, I'm sure," she said sarcastically.

If he stared a little too long at her smile, he wouldn't admit it. "Come on, let's go get some lunch and we can cash in your check. Do you have a bank?"

"The Bank of New York," she replied.

"Um… we can see if we can access it. If not, then we'll just take it to one of those cash places for people who can't afford bank accounts." Steve decided. He waved his hand for a cab, hoping someone would stop.

"What about this?"

He turned and saw her petting a beautiful black horse attached to a carriage.

"Those are for tourists," he dismissed. A taxi slowed down and he tapped on the doors. "Hey."

A scruffy man ran over and snatched Steve's bag.

"Hey!" Steve gripped the strap and tugged.

The thief kicked Steve in the chest sending him back into the door of the taxi. He turned around face to face with Margaret.

"Hello," she smiled politely before head butting him in the nose. While his hands were up, she punched him in the stomach. He dropped the bag and fell over. She picked it up and kicked the man's rear shoving him face first into the ground. A police officer ran over and arrested the thief, when Margaret slung the bag across her chest and reached down to help Steve.

"I had him on the ropes," he slurred.

"Of course you did," she cooed. "You slowed him down. I just finished him off."

"That was amazing," he smiled.

"Well, if it isn't Miss fancy pants," the officer said.

Margaret looked up recognizing her immediately. "Oh, hello again, Officer…

"Viola," she smiled. "Pretty tough thing you did, stopping that thief and all in that Victorian dress."

"I couldn't let him get away with it." Margaret replied and helped Steve to his feet. "Just because I'm a lady does not mean I am helpless."

"Hey," the driver of the carriage leaned over. "How about a free ride?"

"Oh, that is very kind of you, sir. Thank you."

Viola helped Margaret get Steve into the carriage. "Sir, would you like to file a report for assault?"

He shook his head. "It happens all the time."

"Just because it happens to people doesn't mean—"

"No, to me," he grunted and sat up. "I'll be okay."

Margaret rolled her lips displeased to hear that he faced this kind of assault often.

Viola reluctantly got out of the carriage. "Alright, be safe." She nodded and hauled the thief off.

The driver leaned over to Steve. "Your girlfriend is one heck of a fighter."

"Yeah…" he said, not bothering to argue.

Margaret pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe the blood off her forehead.

"Are you for real?" he asked her, stupefied.

"I believe I am," she replied with a sweet smile.

When they reached back the apartment, they decided Chinese food should be the first different thing she ate that wasn't frozen food.

"How about you go upstairs and change? I'll order us lunch." he said. "Are you going to be okay getting your corset off?"

"Yes, taking it off is easier then lacing it up," she pecked him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for your concern."

Steve watched her and sighed, he went inside and saw Bucky sprawled out on the couch.

"Oh no," Bucky said.

"What?"

"You got that look on your face," he accused.

"I don't have a look."

"Yes, you do. Who is it? Is it your assistant? I'm pretty sure the straightest man in the world would decide otherwise for him."

"No, it's not Thor." He blushed and rubbed his neck.

"Yesterday, you despised her and today you've got a crush?" Bucky chuckled. "What did she do?"

"She head butted the guy who tried to steal my bag and knocked me down," he said almost dreamily.

"Wait, what?!" Bucky stared him down. "Are you hurt?"

"Not really." Steve shook his head and grabbed the phone, smiling. "Do you think she'll like Chinese?"

"I dunno," Bucky shook his head. "I'll be right back."

"What?" Steve looked up.

Bucky faced him. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, okay," Steve nodded. "Your usual?"

He nodded in reply.

While Steve ordered the food, Bucky went down the fire escape to have a little chat with Margaret.

He knocked on the window and announced himself as he climbed in. He stumbled a bit and cursed his phantom limb.

"Yes, James?" he looked up and saw Margaret already dressed in loose attire.

"You really need to get your own clothes," he commented.

"That is not why you came to speak to me," she stated. "Please come forward about it."

"Steve likes you," he said.

"I was under the impression that he didn't."

"Tony hurt him really bad," James sat down. "He's not very good with love or relationships. Three years in a relationship is a long time. I honestly think it was both of them. They fought a lot and they're stubborn. They're too career oriented to even think about supporting each other. I also think the last year was dead space. Steve was holding on to something he believed might have still been there. They broke it off a month ago."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"He's becoming attached to you."

"Did he say this?"

"He didn't have to."

Margaret looked down at her lap and couldn't stop the small smile. "He is completely unorthodox. I haven't known him but two days and what I saw today? I liked that man. If I can help him stay that man, then it will be happily done. But only if I see this man again.

"I did him a favor today by selling Farmer's Bounty bread. I shall complete the favor Monday. If he continues his former attitude towards me. Then I will no longer spare him a second thought."

"Okay," Bucky said simply.

"However," she stood up. "I intend to collect his promised tea set now."

She and Bucky went back to Steve's apartment where he sat on the couch reading.

"Steve," Margaret said, receiving no answer.

"Steve," she tried again only louder. She walked over and tapped on his shoulder. He jumped and looked up at her.

She spoke a bit louder. "You promised a tea set?"

"Oh, yeah," he stood up and removed sheeted canvases and a large wooden easel out of the way of a china cabinet. He opened it up and pulled out a rose tea set along with a silver tray. "Here."

She gasped and lifted up the tea cup with a gold trim. "Oh, It's lovely."

"Huh?"

"It's lovely," she made sure she was looking at him this time. She placed the pieces on the tray and brought them to the kitchen to wash them, as they were dusty from disuse.

The doorbell rang. Bucky answered and paid the delivery man. The food was set on the counter and paper plates were taken out.

"It smells delicious," Margaret said, drying off the teapot.

"I got what Bucky and I usually order so help yourself."

"Thank you, I will."

No sooner had they started eating did Steve's phone ring. He sighed and answered. "This is Steve Rogers."

He listened to the person on the other end. "Yes, I'll be there."

He snapped his phone shut and groaned. "I have a dinner meeting tonight." He hunched over and groaned.

"Would you be requiring an escort?"

"No. I don't need an escort," he sat up. "But thanks. Let's just relax until I have to go."

So they did.