London in the wintertime was a dirty, messy business. Snow became sooty and the roads were a mix of sand and ash. Stepping outside meant risking wet stockings, ruined leather soles, muddy hems and lost gloves.

Those trials meant nothing to Charlotte Heywood. She would secretly don her britches under her elegant riding habit and always had her wool socks on over her stockings and under her boots. She knew weather and soon became an expert at working her fancy clothing around it. This adaptation allowed her to ride in the park on Lady Susan's roan mare, religiously, every day. Sometimes with and sometimes without the mistress of Winterview.

On this unusually warm January afternoon, Charlotte and Lady Susan chose a carriage ride through the neighborhood to get a bit of fresh air.

"Susan? Do you mind if I ask you a rather personal question?" Charlotte began nervously.

"It depends. Go on." Susan smiled at the younger woman and squeezed her gloved hand for encouragement.

"I have been so blessed to have your friendship and I am still rather bewildered. Why me? I was an absolute nobody when we met."

"That is an easy one. Because I liked you. You are fresh and unguarded. You are your own person and not easily swayed and you read which makes you interesting to talk with."

Charlotte laughed, "Surely, this was not enough to recommend me to your circle. I fear they still endure my conversation with great condescension."

"Poppycock!" Lady Susan tapped Charlotte playfully with her fan. "They need to open up their eyes and their world to the new generation of opinionated young women and you are not the only one! Miss Georgiana Lamb is a contender. Oh my! The two of you, together, excite the ladies so!"

"I know!" Charlotte raised her eyebrows in shock, "They were in stitches the last time we retired after dinner. Such an uproar!"

"Your views are well received and well researched. You know of what you speak and it is that level of informed opinion that, coupled with Georgianna's color commentary, make your ideas for societal change and improvement very potent."

"Am I in danger do you think?" Charlotte bit her lip.

"Of what? Upsetting the ancient apple cart? Yes. There will be some who disdain your thoughts. You have been careful not to entertain them in mixed company."

"I think the ladies find my ideas cute and I am perfectly fine with that."

"Indeed. Always keep it light and amusing and eventually the seeds of dissent will take root in their consciousness and change will come."

Lady Susan pondered her last statement then said, "Let us stop in at the British Exhibition. There is a painting by a mysterious artist that is getting some attention."

So the ladies were handed down from the elegant barouche and, grabbing their skirts, they ascended the mountain of marble into the atrium of the acclaimed gallery.

"Oh look, Susan, is that my old friend James Stringer?!"

James caught her eye and the two stood staring, speechless. He moved their way and together the ladies curtsied. He bowed with reverence.

"Good Afternoon ladies, It is so good to see you again. It must have been the tea at Lord and Lady Peacham's Town house since last we met." James gallantly kissed both ladies hands. He looked the scholar with his tweed suit and long pants.

"Well, Mr. Stringer, " Lady Susan "I barely recognized you with your dashing new mustache and beard. Very continental." She flattered.

"And my new spectacles?" He took them off and tucked them in his vest pocket. "I use them for reading these days. There are so many late nights studying blueprints in candlelight."

"I will be sure to tell his highness not to work you too hard." Susan winked, waved at a friend across the room and went away.

"I daresay, James," Charlotte spoke "I might not have recognized you. You look so...distinguished. I did think you might call at Lady Susan's while I am in town." She raised her eyes in expectation of an excuse.

"Miss Charlotte," he returned to his former mode of addressing a lady, "Forgive me. " His eyes pleaded pardon and his breath caught in his throat. He let out a small cough. "I mean to every weekend but until the project is finished, I have very little time to myself."

"Yoo hoo! Mr. Stringer!" A overly dressed, young blond woman waved her tiny pink satin gloved finger at James and rushed over. "I got here just in time!" The ladies eyed each other suspiciously.

"Miss Charlotte Heywood, may I introduce Miss Lucinda Graves. Miss Graves is the daughter of my co-worker, Mr. Reginald Graves. Miss Heywood is one of my oldest and dearest friends."

"What do you do in London, Miss Heywood? Mr. Stringer promised to show me the exhibit." Miss Graves threaded her arm possessively into James' and held tightly.

"I am the guest of Lady Susan Vernon. My family are also in town, Lord and Lady Peacham? I am soon to be presented at court. What is it you do in London Miss Graves?"

"Oh my! Well. I am a Governess to the Harris Household." She seemed slightly less inflated.

"I am sure James...er..Mr. Stringer will be a fascinating guide to these beautiful paintings. I hope we shall all meet again soon." Charlotte smiled sweetly, curtsied and left James to his duty.

She then sought refuge in the ladies lounge where she splashed her face with cold water and sat quietly on the chaise collecting her thoughts.

What is James about? If he has no time for her, why would he have time for Miss Graves? Her cheeks began to burn. She dug through her small bag and pulled out an envelope. Leaving the lounge she asked the attendent for a pen and proceeded to write a note for James.

James,

Please write to me at Lady Susan's townhouse Winterview 24 Mayfair and tell me how you are doing. I need a way to communicate with you.

Your dearest,

Charlotte

"I hope you don't find me impertinent but I noticed you speaking with Mr. Stringer a moment ago." The man working at the counter introduced himself. "I am Mr. Compton, the assistant to the Head of Exhibition."

"Pleased to meet you." Charlotte curtsied.

"Our young Stringer there looks a bit unkempt but he has good reason. He just finished his contribution last week and he is working on a Japanese garden project for the Prince Regent. His studio is just upstairs."

"Finished the...? You mean one of those paintings is...his?"

"Yes but do not tell him I told you. He doesn't want anyone to know."

Charlotte was eager to go back into the space and really look at the artwork. "I know Mr. Stringer's modest character well and I am familiar with his artwork. Your secret is safe with me." She rushed in to find Susan.

Lady Susan Vernon was standing before a painting of a young woman sleeping. The subject's eyes were closed and her nightgown was falling off of her shoulder. Her face was a remarkable likeness of Charlotte Heywood.

"What an excellent painting, do you not think?" Lady Susan smiled knowingly and strolled to the next canvass, leaving Charlotte in a state of disbelief.

She shot James a look of accusation across the gallery. He caught it and sheepishly looked at the floor.

Sir William Doyle, a dandy of the first order, pulled up beside her and made the connection. "Miss Charlotte Heywood!" He bowed.

"Sir William." She curtsied with a blush.

"I did not know you posed as an artists model?" He took his monocle and examined the painting deeper. "What an uncanny likeness!"

Not knowing what to say, she stuttered, "Yes. Yes, on occasion. With just the right artist. I am still a respectable young woman after all." She dared him to doubt.

"Then, you are privy to the artists identity." He replaced his eye piece and leaned in for the reveal.

"Yes. I am." She curtsied and walked back to Lady Susan who was surrounded by a flock of admirers. The two said their good byes and as they exited, she bid Mr. Compton to give her note to James Stringer.