“All right, gel, do you think you can pretend to be a regular goose? Men, especially those as have a military title, think women are jinglebrained anyhow. It should go over well.”

Gabby nodded. “Colonel Hastings isn’t exactly in the army,” she noted. “The East India Company maintains its own militia.”

Lady Sylvia shrugged. “He’s got some sort of rank. They have to have a shrunken head to fit into those tunics, you know. It goes with the uniform.”

The dogs danced into the room, hysterically yelping their pleasure at being released from Dessie’s stern care. Lady Sylvia grabbed two and Gabby bent to pick up the third, but recoiled when it snapped at her finger.

“Ignore the little demon,” Lady Sylvia advised. “She’ll follow us. Now—on with it, Codswallop!”

Colonel Hastings turned out not to be wearing a uniform. He was a barrel-shaped man, going rather bald. To Gabby’s mind, his face resembled a black-and-white etching without enough detail: his nose seemed bulbous and undefined, his chin wobbled into two or three chins and then melted into his high collar, and his hair didn’t appear until his forehead had sloped backward for a more than generous time.

Even as Colonel Hastings bustled toward the two ladies, it was abundantly clear that he considered himself to be engaging in child care. Lady Sylvia threw Gabby a quick, triumphant look.

“Miss Jerningham, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed rather creakily.

Lady Sylvia fluttered toward Colonel Hastings, simpering. “Oh, la, sir. I can hardly bring myself to say so, but I must admit, in the absence of a male family member, I could never allow sweet Miss Jerningham to be unchaperoned, not that it would be of concern in the presence of such a majestic military gentleman as yourself….” Her voice trailed away and she swept into a low curtsy, so low that Gabby was momentarily afraid she might not be able to straighten up.

Colonel Hastings bowed self-importantly. “I am enchanted—enchanted!—to meet you, Miss…Miss …”

Lady Sylvia shook her fan so quickly that a minor gale disturbed Hastings’ remaining few hairs. “My name is Lady Sylvia Breaknettle. Forgive me, Colonel Hastings, but the shock of finding myself in the presence of one of England’s bravest, finest men!” Her fan trembled with emotion. “I merely look at you and I see our brave, brave men, penetrating the wilds of the wildest continents, bravely living without the comforts of civilization!”