He showed it to Jane, steadying the paper against the stiff breeze. It fluttered so that the image on the cover seemed to move. It was an engraving, crude and hastily rendered, of their glamural at Carlton House, with the words ‘New Year’s Souvenir’ emblazoned in large type above it. The text below described the festivities in great detail, mentioning everything from the quantity of cake to the worth of the plate. Jane made a note to let her mother know the figure. Then her attention caught upon a sentence.

The glamural, created entirely by Mr. David Vincent, is one of the most complete . . .

There was no mention of her.

A penny publication did not signify much, yet Jane could not help but feel that her exclusion confirmed all that she had felt that last night at Carlton House. She was an unnecessary part of the weave of their glamour. Trying to put her sour feeling aside, Jane smiled at the girls. ‘Did you attend?’

Bouncing on her toes, the younger girl answered Jane’s question, but directed her words at Vincent. She gazed at him with all the adoration a schoolgirl might bring to bear upon an older man. ‘It was wonderful! Oh! Sir! Mama says you are the best glamourist in England!’

Vincent coughed, his face reddening. ‘Your mother is very kind.’

‘Would you . . . that is, may I be so bold as to ask . . .?’ The elder girl twisted her fingers together and gazed at him so wistfully that she might have been before a prince in a bedtime story.

Her sister broke in. ‘Oh, please, sign it! That way we can prove that we met you!’

Her outbursts, which could only be rendered in justice with a superfluity of exclamation points, had begun to draw the attention of their fellow passengers. Vincent, who had no trouble conversing with the Prince Regent without seeming to note his rank, stammered and hemmed. Patting his coat pockets, he looked around helplessly.

Taking pity on him, Jane opened her reticule and produced a small pencil that she used for taking notes while they worked. Handing it to Vincent, she tried to find amusement in the embarrassment he so obviously felt at being singled out for attention. Of course, it was understandable that the pamphleteer would only mention the most famous personages in his accounting of the fête, and Jane was as yet an unknown. But though it was a prideful wish, she hoped someday to see the words Mr. and Mrs. Vincent appear with a notice of their work.

‘Inscribe it to Miss Cornell and Miss Caroline Cornell!’ Miss Caroline Cornell, the younger, bounced on her toes again. ‘That way our friends will be certain that we met you!’

‘Of course.’ He penned his name on the page below the illustration and began to return it to them, then checked his motion. ‘Jane?’ Vincent offered her the page.