To Peter’s horror, he realized that Gabby was addressing the footman. And the said footman was smiling back at her as if they were equals. “It is blackberry jelly, miss.”

Phillip snapped back to attention against the wall, instinctively sensing Peter’s infuriated eyes on him.

“Mmmm,” Gabby said dreamily. “I love blackberry jelly. What do you think, Phoebe?”

Phoebe looked doubtfully at the jelly. “My ayah never let me have sugared things on my toast because they may make me fat. And then I could not get married.”

“Your ayah was a tyrant! Try this, sweetheart.”

Peter frowned. To his mind Gabby was the one who should be avoiding sugared things. It could just be the dress, of course, but she looked a wee bit plumper than was advisable, given the French style of clothing that was popular in London. Still, that was a topic he could bring up in private.

Gabby turned back to him, delicately licking her lower lip. Peter’s frown darkened.

And Quill took one look at Gabby and got up abruptly, leaving the room without making a proper farewell. If even his brother noticed Gabby’s uncivilized manners, it demonstrated that she truly was in need of correction.

“Is Madame Carême a friend of yours?”

“What?” For a moment Peter didn’t follow Gabby’s question.

“Madame Carême. You said we would visit her after breakfast.”

“No. Madame Carême is a mantua-maker, a modiste, as they call them in France. She is considered the best in London. We must obtain a wardrobe for you at the earliest possible moment, so I have requested an appointment for a fitting.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Gabby replied comfortably. “We had twenty of these white gowns made up in India. I had them copied from a brand-new issue of Le Beau Monde. That’s a magazine that discusses fashion,” she explained.

“I am more than aware of Le Beau Monde,” Peter said. He himself had been featured in its pages more than once. “However, that design does not suit you.”

“It doesn’t?” Gabby felt a tugging at her sleeve and looked down into Phoebe’s imploring eyes. Suddenly she remembered how much misery Phoebe’s short skirts were causing her.

“All right,” she agreed. “May Phoebe accompany us to Madame Carême’s establishment? Perhaps we shall both order some new garments.”

Peter agreed. He rather liked Phoebe. She was a child who seemed to know her place, and although she should, by all rights, be in the schoolroom, she was handling the unexpected pleasure of eating with adults with composure. He noted with approval that she had had several bites of blackberry jelly and then put her toast to the side. A lady is never too young to pay attention to her figure. Gabby, on the other hand, seemed to be eating her third or fourth piece of toast.