Philomena had no time today to spend on thoughts of what might have been if she was a lady and Hugh was not an aristocrat. She was glad to be busy; the demands of the ladies and their fond mothers drove the memory of Hugh’s adventure in Hyde Park quite out of her head.

This morning, she was engaged with a young lady who had been one of her first customers. Philomena enjoyed her visits for the girl was always full of gossip from the night before.

“Well, Miss Philomena,” she began, watching intently as Philomena held a selection of different coloured ribbons against the bodice of a blue silk gown. “We had such a crush at the Marchants’ ball last night. Everyone was there. I declare, I tasted six flavours of ice, and I danced every dance.” Young Miss Everett smiled, shyly. “In fact, I even danced with Lord Thatcham. He was in attendance for once. He was by far the most handsome man at the ball, of course. He attends very rarely, you know; for he is only lately out of mourning for his wife.”

She sighed, luxuriously. “Lord Thatcham is so romantic. Everyone wonders who will catch him. You know he must have another wife before too long. He has but the one heir.”

Philomena turned her face away. It cut her to the quick to hear of Hugh dancing with young ladies. How foolish she was. She knew he was in London with Selena for the Season. Of course, he would accompany his sister to the occasional ball. Miss Everett was right. He would outdo everyone else. Hugh would be taller and far more handsome than the rest, and he would never titter or jostle like the callow youths.

Philomena kept a tight hold on her emotions and ordered her hand not to shake. “I have heard of Lord Thatcham.” She kept her voice low and calm. “I believe he has a sister who comes out this year?”

“Oh, yes, Lady Selena is such a great friend of mine.” Miss Everett beamed. Philomena wondered how closely this friendship connected to Hugh’s eligibility as a suitor. She wondered whether he had any interest in this fluffy young girl.

For a second, her spirits faltered with jealousy of this silly, wealthy girl. What had she done to deserve her comfortable, sheltered life in London Society? Why should she look forward to a prosperous future? It was the slightest accident of birth that Miss Everett was a lady and Philomena a poor dressmaker.

Philomena shook her head, trying to clear it of such thoughts. She would not become jealous. Her own life, after all, was far from unpleasant, apart from her heavy heart. She enjoyed needlework, had funds enough to live comfortably and had made many new friends. Those friends were far more suitable than the aristocratic Lord Thatcham and his family.