Sarah fanned herself and cast a longing glance at the refreshments table. The party was not so much delightful as it was hot, crowded, and noisy, and although Sarah felt that she looked quite grown-up in her new dress and elegantly curled hair, no one had yet asked her to dance.

Her parents had disappeared in the direction of the champagne the instant they entered the room; it was hot and stuffy; there were too many people breathing; and a tall gentleman was blocking her way to the punch bowl. There was nothing for it—she needed something to drink.

"Excuse me," she said, touching the gentleman's shoulder, "would you be so kind as to—James?!"

"A heh," the gentleman said.

Sarah gaped at him, her fan frozen in her hand. "You're supposed to be running a paper in Manhattan!"

"Um, right, about that," James said nervously.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed unhappily that her voice was shriller than she would have liked.

"I came to visit Henri," he said defensively. "The paper's doing fine, and you aren't the only one who wanted an overseas vacation. General Lafayette and his family put me up."

"That's in France," Sarah pointed out, her hands on her hips.

"Well—while I'm in Europe, I thought I'd do a story on King George," James retorted. He puffed up his chest and extended his arms. "It will be a brilliant article. 'Is There A Method To His Madness?' A scathing expose on the man who lost America to America forever."

Sarah laughed, delighted. "And will you interview His Majesty personally?"

"If I can," James grinned.

She shook her head, still smiling. "That still doesn't explain why you're here," she said pointedly.

"I'm establishing a presence in England," he said. "I'm surprised at you, Miss Phillips. Every good reporter knows to do that before they conduct any interviews."

"Well, why don't you interview me?" Sarah asked, tilting her head. "You've already established a presence here."

James scratched behind his ear and looked rather uncomfortable. "It would be a conflict of interest," he said after a moment.

Sarah frowned. "Conflict of—whatever do you mean?"

James looked even more uncomfortable. "It's just—"

"Sarah, darling!" Her parents chose that moment to appear, breathless, beside her. "I believe we are ready to depart," her father announced.

Lady Phillips emitted a most undignified giggle.

James looked crestfallen. "Well, I'll see you later," he said.

"Yes, do," Lady Phillips said airily. "Sam, why don't you call the coach?"

Major Phillips bowed elaborately and kissed his wife's hand. "As my lady wishes."

She giggled again. Sarah was becoming most unnerved, and desperately grasped for what propriety still remained in the conversation.

"Mother, Father," she said formally, "may I present Mr. James Hiller. James, my mother Lady Anne Phillips and my father Major Samuel Phillips."

Sarah's father squinted. "Have we met?"

"I—er—" James frowned.

"No matter, boy!" Major Phillips clapped him on the back, hard enough that James started coughing. "You look to be a fine lad. Why, we've been after Sarah for years to—"

"Father!" Sarah exclaimed quickly, looking at James. "Don't you have to fetch the coach?"

"Oh, yes," he said, and after winking theatrically at his wife, nearly tripped in his haste to leave the room.

Sarah's mother snorted; Sarah fiercely wished that she were somewhere (anywhere!) else. James coughed again.

"Are you a friend of Sarah's?" Lady Phillips asked abruptly.

"Er, yes," James said. He looked despondently at Sarah, who added, "From America, Mother."

"I've always liked America," her mother said vaguely.

"Me too," James offered.

Major Phillips reappeared at the door, saving James from any more of Lady Phillips' small talk. "Your carriage awaits, ladies," he said.

"It had been a true delight meeting you," Sarah's mother said to James. "Do call on us at Bellevue, my sister's residence; we shall be staying there until February."

"February?" Sarah asked resignedly.

"We'll talk," her mother said, and swept her out of the room. Craning her neck, Sarah saw James waving half-heartedly and shaking his head.

**

The carriage ride home was enormously uncomfortable for Sarah. She sat across from her parents, who seemed to be unable to keep themselves from making quote-unquote "witty" innuendoes and planting sloppy kisses on each others' faces. She was tremendously grateful when they arrived at the front gate of their manor, and she leapt out of the coach without even waiting for the footmen to help her down.

"I'mgoingtobedseeyouatbreakfast!" she called behind her, and took the steps up to her room two at a time.

As Maggie took down her hair and brushed it out, Sarah kept thinking back to James and their odd encounter that night. "I only wish Mother hadn't been so embarrassing," she thought. "I can't imagine what he thought of us."

Finally, Maggie left the room and closed the door, and Sarah clambered into bed and blew out the candle.

"I am glad to see him, though," she thought sleepily.

*** end Chapter Two

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, Pottergirl and jerseygirl13! I thought I'd give a plug here to the Pursuing Happiness forum at inspired me to write this fic in the first place. 'Tis a very cool Liberty's Kids site—go check it out!

Edit: have changed the name of Sarah's aunt's estate from "Castlehaven" to "Bellevue" upon the realization that Catlehaven is, um, in Ireland. Whoops.

Feedback is, as always, appreciated. Thanks for reading!