Molly says something to the stranger, and the two of them head in my direction as Alfie leaves us. Molly selects a flute of champagne from a refreshment table as she passes it, and then holds it out to me. “Rose,” she says as I accept the glass. “This is Danni. She’s in fifth year, too.”

“Oh,” I say. “Which school?”

Molly shoots me a look as though I’m being purposely obtuse. While it’s possible I am being obtuse, in my defense, it’s certainly not on purpose. “Bramppath,” she says, and I realize my misstep too late. This girl must be attending under one of the music scholarships. They’re the only scholarships available that offer a fully funded place. They’re quite competitive, too.

“A musical prodigy,” I remark. “I’m sure we’re lucky to gain you. What do you play?”

Danni opens her mouth as though to answer me, but then she falters. “Piano, but … how do you know I’m a musician?”

Two mistakes in a row. It’s a blessing Mum and Father aren’t here to witness this, or I’d be in for a lecture. Remarking upon class differences is classless; those would be Mum’s exact words.

Molly watches me with curiosity, apparently in no hurry to save me. So, I make my best effort to recover myself. “You have piano hands,” I say. Stealing a glance at Danni’s fingers, it’s not a word of a lie—they are long. “Have you had the chance to meet everyone here, then?”

It’s a dig at Molly that goes right over Danni’s head, as it’s designed to. Molly meets my eyes but says nothing. At least I’ve let her know I noticed her speaking to practically every person at the party except for me.

“I think so,” Danni says. She speaks with a thick American accent, untouched, as far as I can tell, by any Hennish cadence. A recently immigrated scholarship student, no less. “I’m never going to remember all these names.”

“Well, if you can remember anything, try to focus on surnames,” I say. “They’re generally more important in this crowd. And if all else fails, remember Kwon and Kowalczyk, and you’ll be in good hands.”

Eleanor climbs onto her knees to hang over the back of the couch and nod at us. “Kowalczyk would be me,” she says to Danni, reaching out for a handshake.

“Got it,” Danni says with a nervous smile. “And who’s Kwon?”

“Who’s Kwon?” I repeat, unable to keep the bafflement from my tone. I point a helpful finger at Molly. “That’s Molly Kwon,” I stage-whisper.

“Okay, Rose,” Molly snaps. Defensive of her new best friend, it would seem. “I didn’t tell her my surname yet.”

“I hope I didn’t just give away a secret, then.”