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had evidently been purloined from her mother’s chocolate box.
    ‘Are you ready to go downstairs?’ Sidonie asked as Clementine shoved the violet cream into her mouth and scrambled to her feet. ‘Don’t touch your dress, dearest. You have chocolate on your fingers.’ She moved forward and brushed the creases out of Clementine’s pink silk dress. ‘Here, let me.’ She handed her the clean cotton handkerchief that she always had tucked up her long sleeve.
    ‘How do I look, Miss Roche?’ Clementine asked as she wiped her hands on the handkerchief. ‘Mama says that from now on my appearance must have your approval before I am to appear in public.’ She did a little self conscious turn. ‘Minette, the new maid put my hair up for me. She’s very grumpy isn’t she?’
    Sidonie laughed. ‘Yes, very. I had to share a carriage with her when we came here and I do not think I saw her smile once. It was very hard work.’ She retied the pale blue velvet sash around Clementine’s waist and straightened her muslin fichu then stepped away with a smile. ‘You look just right.’
    They went downstairs together and Sidonie was surprised yet very pleased to feel Clementine’s hand steal into hers. ‘Now tell me again who is coming this evening,’ she said with a reassuring squeeze of Clementine’s fingers.
    ‘It will be just the same as usual, I expect,’ Clementine replied with a heavy sigh. ‘My family; the Knowles family even though Mama hates Mrs Knowles and also the Wrothams. Some of Papa’s friends usually come too. Oh and of course, the Comte will be here as well.’ This last was said with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
    ‘The Comte?’ Sidonie cast a sidelong look at her pupil but Clementine’s normally expressive face was a closed book.
    There was a pause. ‘Yes, the Comte Jules. He has some complicated surname that I can never get right. Something like Shoozool?’ Clementine affected a French accent and said the name with great relish. ‘Jooles de Shoozool.’ She giggled. ‘He’s here in Bath with Madame de Polignac. Have you seen her? She’s very thin and looks down her nose at us all. I wonder why she came at all, seeing as she seems to hate it so much. It’s quite funny really.’
    ‘The Comte Jules de Choiseul-Amboise,’ Sidonie repeated dully, automatically correcting Clementine’s pronunciation. ‘Does he visit here often?’ Her manner was carefully neutral but her heart raced beneath the grey silk of her gown.
    ‘All the time,’ Clementine replied candidly. ‘He comes to see Venetia really.’ She looked up at her governess and saw that she had gone so pale that the tiny bit of rouge that she had applied to her cheekbones stood out starkly against her skin. ‘Oh, do you know him?’
    Sidonie forced herself to smile. ‘Only a little and not any more.’ She took a deep breath.‘I taught his sisters for a while in Paris. He wasn’t there very often though.’ They had reached the drawing room door. Sidonie could hear laughter from within and her heart sank.
    ‘Oh, well I am sure he will be delighted to see you again!’ Clementine said with a somewhat quizzical look at her governess.
    ‘It was a long time ago, my dear. I doubt that he will recognise me now,’ Sidonie replied before taking a deep breath and turning the door handle.
    Mrs Garland beckoned them forward as they stepped together into the dim, candle lit drawing room, which smelled strongly of the violet pomade the ladies used on their elaborate hair and the huge blue and white china bowls of rose and lavender pot pourri that stood on each table. She had arranged herself on a green satin covered sofa in the corner and was clearly holding court with Lady Wrotham smiling benignly on one side and the sly eyed Mrs Knowles on the other. ‘How charming you look, Clementine,’ she said appreciatively. ‘That shade of pink is very becoming to you.’
    ‘Yes, very pretty,’ Lady Wrotham agreed with a smile as she unfurled her