“You mean they actually discuss such things in front of you?” her mother asked in a shocked voice.

“Of course, Mama,” Thalia answered. “You know people always behave as if servants were deaf. Well, in the eyes of those who buy bonnets, I am only a servant.”

She was not listening as her mother started once again to say how much she disliked her being in such an inferior position and working for a living.

Instead she was wondering what the Earl thought of her or why he was so insistent that he must see her.

She thought, when he had come into Mademoiselle Genevieve’s bedroom looking so tall and elegant, that it was quite obvious why he was there and from what Genevieve had said before he arrived, Thalia had known that she was expecting an important gentleman to call on her.

Then surprisingly this afternoon the Earl had come into the shop with Lady Adelaide, who according to Mrs. Burton was one of the great beauties of Society and whatever she wore set a fashion amongst the other ladies who all envied her.

When he could have such gorgeous creatures to engage his attention, why on earth should the Earl want to talk to her?

Thalia suddenly had a terrifying idea that he might have discovered who she was. And then she told herself that was absurd.

Why should anyone ever connect Thalia Carver, a milliner in Bond Street, with Sir Denzil Caversham?

No, that was not the explanation and she supposed that she would learn what it was when she dined with him.

Although she told herself the Earl was utterly despicable in forcing her to do something which she knew would shock and horrify her mother, she could not help but feel slightly excited at going out to dinner.

Ever since they had come to London, Thalia had become so used to playing the part she had set herself that she was not expecting to have any social life.

She knew that her mother was right in saying they must avoid all the friends they had ever known, not only because it was impossible to give an explanation as to why Sir Denzil had disappeared but also because they had no wish for sympathy or pity.

“When your Papa returns,” Lady Caversham had said often enough, “we will first go to the country and live quietly until all the gossip has died down and then we will take up our lives again where they left off.”

“How will we pay for it, Mama?” Thalia asked.

“Perhaps your father will have some money when he comes home,” she replied weakly.

Thalia had thought it very unlikely, knowing that her father had a genius for spending money but none for acquiring it.

She did not, however, wish to make her mother more depressed than she was already, but merely said,

“I am sure that Papa is clever enough to put everything to rights even our finances.”