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scruffy cat which Miss Brown asked me to rescue from a tree on her road south. I thought she might like to see it.
    ‘Of course,’ said Effy weakly. She rang the bell again and when a footman answered its summons, she told him to go and see what was keeping Miss Amy and Miss Brown.
    What was keeping Miss Amy and Miss Brown was a massive row. Amy wanted Harriet to wear one of her new gowns. Harriet wanted to wear one of her old ones, pointing out that going to any unnecessary fuss might make Lord Charles think she was interested in him, and that she most certainly was not. Amy blustered and swore, and Harriet then proceeded to give her a lecture on the disgusting use of profanity. At last Amy realized that Harriet meant to sit there all day until she got what she wanted, and so allowed her to wear a gown that Amy told her was the colour of slurry and just about as interesting. It had a cotton lace collar and cuffs – cotton lace! thought Amy with a shudder – and the waistline was old-fashioned, being at the waist instead of up under the armpits. Harriet had had this gown for quite some years and it was a trifle short and showed her ankles. There was surely nothing much she could do to spoil the glory of her hair, thought Amy, until Harriet swept it up on top of her head in a hard knot.
    Lord Charles rose as Harriet and Amy entered the drawing room, and made a magnificent bow.
    Harriet curtsied beautifully, the sisters noticed, trying to gain comfort from little things to make up for the awful spectacle Harriet was making of herself in that gown.
    They would have been relieved had they known that Harriet was deeply regretting wearing such an old dress. Lord Charles’s appearance was so exquisite that she felt dowdy and intimidated. His green eyes flicked a glance at her ankles and she coloured slightly and ineffectually tried to pull her skirt down to conceal them.
    ‘So this, Miss Brown,’ said Lord Charles when they were all seated, ‘is the cat.’ He fished in his muff and brought out the cat.
    All these green eyes, thought Amy. It’s like being in the jungle. Lord Charles’s eyes were grass-green, and the cat looked from one to the other with an unblinking green stare.
    It settled itself down on Lord Charles’s lap, yawned delicately, closed its eyes and went to sleep.
    ‘It seems very contented, my lord,’ volunteered Amy, ‘and in good coat. You obviously look after it very well.’
    ‘Very well,’ said Harriet coldly. She had thought that affection for the stray cat showed a sign of good in Lord Charles. Now it appeared his soul was as cold and manicured as his appearance. Effy and Amy exchanged looks of dismay.
    ‘So what will you call it?’ asked Lord Charles.
    ‘I do not believe in giving animals elaborate names,’ said Harriet. ‘I shall call it Tom. It is a tom-cat, after all.’
    ‘Are you enjoying your stay in London, Miss Brown?’
    ‘Yes, very much. But there is so much to learn.’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘Oh.’ Harriet sighed and wrinkled her brow. ‘Water-colour painting and dancing and manners and etiquette and “Don’t do this and don’t do that.”’
    ‘I thought those were all things any young miss learned in her cradle.’
    ‘Not my cradle, my lord. I was brought up to do more important things.’
    ‘And what is more important?’
    ‘Caring for the sick and poor of my father’s parish, learning to read the classics in the original, studying my Bible.’
    And if that catalogue don’t put him off, nothing will, thought Amy grimly.
    ‘Then why do you attend such a worldly and frivolous event as the Little Season?’
    ‘My parents are both dead,’ said Harriet candidly. ‘My father died recently and left me nigh penniless. My aunt, Lady Owen, decided to give me a small dowry and send me to London to these ladies for schooling.’
    ‘So you hope to marry?’
    ‘Let me rather say that I am obliged to marry. I have no alternative.’
    ‘You could find work.’
    ‘I do not