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the company.’
    Lady Abbott held up one gloved hand. Her large eyes surveyed the group. ‘That will not be necessary,’ she said, her tone, slightly amused, implying that the marquis’s company was beneath her notice. ‘Do come and meet my daughters,’ she said.
    The marquis gave a sweet smile and raised the carving knife. ‘My apologies, Lady Abbott. As you can see, I am too busy engaged in carving this fowl. Do you dine?’
    ‘We have a private dining-room.’
    ‘So what brings you to the common dining-room?’
    ‘My maid told me some fantastical story that you had arrived on the common stage. I found it scarcely credible, but now …’ Her eyes raked over the company . ‘Oh, here is my husband. You know Abbott, of course. My daughters, Indiana and Philadelphia.’ Both girls curtsied.
    Hannah found herself becoming very angry indeed. Hannah Pym, friend that she was of Sir George Clarence, should be accorded proper respect, not snubbed by this Abbott female. What made it even worse was that Lady Abbott was not going out of her way to be nasty. She obviously believed the company to be beneath her notice. Hannah nervously fingered the corded silk of her own gown.
    Yvonne looked wide-eyed at Lady Abbott. She was a handsome woman in a tamboured gown, her oiled head ornamented with feathers. Her daughters, both in their late teens, were gazing up at the marquis with well-trained adoration. In looks, they were neither of them out of the common way, but they had been schooled to please and find husbands. Hard work removes pretty innocence, thought Yvonne. I could never gaze at any man with that cowlike look of worship.
    ‘Pray join us,’ said Lord Abbott.
    ‘How can I join you,’ said the marquis mildly, ‘when I am obviously otherwise engaged?’
    Lord Abbott half-turned his face away, but his words were perfectly audible. ‘But such company! I assume you are travelling on the stage for some lark.’
    Benjamin had heard enough. He considered Hannah had been slighted. ‘My mistress’s food is getting cold, so why don’t you all go away,’ he said loudly.
    ‘Are you addressing me?’ Lady Abbott raised her quizzing-glass.
    ‘Yes, I am,’ said Benjamin, unrepentant. ‘Move along, do, my lady.’ He raised his voice to a mincing falsetto. ‘I’Faith, I was never so bored in all my life.’
    ‘You outrageous whipper-snapper,’ raged Lord Abbott . ‘I’ll have you horsewhipped. You … madam’ – to Hannah – ‘kindly curb your servant.’
    ‘Indeed I would, my lord,’ said Hannah coldly, ‘were it not that I agree with every word my Benjamin says.’
    Indiana promptly swooned. It was gracefully done, for she had spent hours in front of her glass perfecting the art, but the Marquis of Ware did not catch her. That task was left to Benjamin. Indiana opened her eyes and said weakly, ‘Oh, my heart,’ found Benjamin grinning down at her and struggled free with a squawk.
    ‘I see now,’ said Lady Abbott, struggling for calm, ‘why it is, Ware, that you have elected to go on the common stage.’ She made it sound like acting in the theatre. ‘Obviously your travelling companions suit your low taste.’
    Pushing her twittering daughters before her, she flounced off, followed by her husband, leaving the marquis and the rest.
    The Marquis continued to carve. The others sat silent, all engrossed in their unhappy thoughts. Monsieur Petit was grinding his teeth and thinking that Lady Abbott would be considerably improved in appearance were her head in a basket in front of the guillotine. Mr Ashton was ruffled. He considered himself no end of a dandy, but Lady Abbott’s insults had brought back to him unwelcome memories of many such slights. Hannah was depressed. She had so lately been a servant that she felt sure the stamp of the servant class was marked on her face for all to see. Yvonne had met many such ladies as Lady Abbottwhen she visited the houses of the rich in London to teach French. Somehow,