‘I do not deny that it is difficult, only put forth the argument that with perseverance anyone can overcome those difficulties. You saw this evening how I had to correct an error.’ Jane faltered, wondering if she should perhaps return to the ballroom to ascertain if her repair to the fish were holding. ‘It is an art that I am still learning, and it takes a great deal of effort.’

‘You see how you prove my point in an instant? I could not even see what it was you were doing, though your husband explained it to me when he returned to his seat. I watched you fixedly and try as I might, I could not see a flaw, nor what you were changing. I only knew that you had done something when Mr. Vincent grunted.’

‘I had not intended for him to abandon you. I should apologize on Vincent’s account.’

‘Now see, that is something else I find perfectly charming about you: the way you use his surname like a man. It is très moderne. I think I might adopt it with my own husband, should I ever see him again.’

Jane stifled the impulse to explain that Vincent was his given name but everyone in this group, save apparently Skiffy and Prinny, knew him as Mr. David Vincent, the glamourist, and not as Vincent Hamilton, third son of the Earl of Verbury. She wondered if she would rise in the other women’s estimation if they knew, then dismissed the thought as unworthy. Vincent had offered to retake his given name and his place as his father’s son when he married her, but she had refused, since it would mean giving up his art.

His art was his life, and hers as well.

‘It is easier to refer to him by the same name our employer uses when working on a commission, lest they wonder who “David” is, and eventually I fell into the habit of it.’ Jane stopped and turned to her companion. ‘I can teach you the basic principles of glamour, if you would like.’

‘That is too kind of you, but I cannot do glamour.’

‘Truly, you do yourself a disservice by believing so without making the attempt.’

‘Ah, I am unclear. My doctor advises me not to perform glamour.’ She let her hand rest on her stomach so briefly that Jane might have imagined it, but Lady Hertford’s meaning was clear: she was increasing. Of course she could not work glamour in such a state, without risk to her unborn child.

‘Perhaps after your confinement, then.’

‘I would delight in that.’

‘I congratulate you and your husband.’

Lady Hertford offered another of her laughs. ‘I doubt that my husband is even aware, or that he would be pleased if he were.’