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you little beauty, we shall have such chats, you and I.”
    Rose got up and came towards her, putting up her arms and drawing Octavia’s face down to be level with hers. Then she kissed her on the cheek and turning to her father said, “If I have to have a governess, then I want this one please.”
    The two grown men laughed, both having got to their feet when Miss da Costa entered the room, and now John bowed to her.
    “Well, Miss da Costa, that would appear to be that. I promised my daughter that she should choose and it would appear that she has done so.”
    She made a deep curtsey. “I think I will be very happy here, sir.” Rose, who had not let go of her hand, said, “May I show her the garden please?”
    “Perhaps Miss da Costa would rather rest.”
    “No, sir, if it is all the same to you I would like to see the garden very much.”
    “Then inspect it you shall,” answered John, and bowed once more as the two females passed him on their way out. He turned to his father. “Well?”
    “Well indeed. A very comely young woman if I may say so.” John smiled. “I am dining with Sir John tomorrow evening.”
    “Excellent. Then you will be leaving us shortly I take it.”
    “Yes. I shall be off very soon afterwards.”
    “Tell me, will you have to impersonate another character? Adopt a guise of some kind?”
    “I think,” John answered carefully, “that I will have to pose as a member of the minor nobility.”
    “To gain entry to wherever it is you want to go?”
    “Precisely.”
    Sir Gabriel rested his chin on a long, thin, elegant hand. “Perhaps try the Irish aristocracy. They are so much more difficult to check.”
    “You have a very valuable point. But wouldn’t that mean I’d have to adopt a phoney Irish accent? I don’t think I could keep that up.”
    “Nonsense. A great many of them send their sons to England for their education. You could just say the odd word here and there with a strange intonation.”
    John burst out laughing. “Father, you truly are an inspiration - and a master of all that is ridiculous. However, I do take your suggestion seriously.”
    Sir Gabriel rose and helped himself to a small sherry. “Now, let me think. Who could you be? Perhaps some relation of the Earl of Cavan - one of the smaller counties, don’t you know.”
    “No, I don’t, to be perfectly honest. Is there such a man as the Earl?”
    Sir Gabriel sipped his sherry thoughtfully. “I have no idea, my son. That is why I suggested that particular place.”
    “I see.” John looked pensive. “I could pretend to be one of his sons perhaps.”
    “Why not? I doubt that your quarry, however well informed, would be able to check that fact.”
    “Father, you’re right. I’ll put it to Sir John tomorrow night.” Sir Gabriel finished his glass. “And will you be mentioning Samuel, my son?”
    “No, I think not, don’t you?”
    But the answer never came for at that moment they were rejoined by Rose and Octavia da Costa both looking pink as the roses they had just been sniffing.
    “Would you like a sherry, Miss da Costa?” the Apothecary asked.
    “No, thank you. I must return to my lodgings and pack up my belongings. Would you mind showing me my room before I go?”
    “Of course, how remiss of me not to do so before. Come this way?”
    He led her upstairs to the first landing and opened the door of the best guest room, feeling that to put her upstairs with the servants would be to pay her insufficient respect. She went into it, clearly delighted.
    “Why, it’s most pleasant, sir. I hadn’t expected anything like this.”
    John laughed, glad that she was happy, and at that moment the front doorbell rang. Looking down the stairs into the hall below, the Apothecary observed the footman go to answer the summons and Nicholas Dawkins arrive, pale and intriguing as ever. Unaware that he was being observed, his former apprentice removed his caped coat and was ushered in the direction of the