Rue’s party elected to walk. The ladies utilised closed parasols as walking sticks. Fortunately, as they had absolutely no idea where they were going, Lieutenant Broadwattle was waiting for them on the shore.

Primrose took the lieutenant’s proffered arm with alacrity. Rue thought she saw the young officer cast her a wistful look. She dismissed it as highly unlikely – for no young man of sense preferred Rue over Prim – and accepted Quesnel’s all-too-casual offer. Percy slouched after them without any effort to participate in the social niceties of ambulation. Why had he bothered to come?

It turned out to be only a short way along the outside of the barracks to the impressive, almost church-like structure of the officers’ mess. As they walked, of all out-of-place things, the sound of bagpipes permeated the air. Rue had never visited the Scottish Highlands, but she suspected nothing could be more different than Bombay. Without explaining the noise, the lieutenant led them through the mess and out the other side into a beautiful walled garden boasting overarching trees, a square pond, copious graceful – if flimsy – chairs and tables, and the milling throng of Bombay’s resident elite.

Rue bounced in happily. Everything was so pretty and colourful. She and Prim were dressed to confuse. Tea espionage was afoot. This was going to be fun.

No one announced them but it was clear that the unvarying nature of society abroad made four newcomers a welcome curiosity. There was no doubt that they had been the talk of the party prior to their arrival. Rue felt rather like the pudding course of a fancy meal, viewed with desire by some, suspicion by others, and discomfort by those who had already partaken too freely. She adored it of course, delighting in engendering discomfort. It was, after all, her forte.

Lieutenant Broadwattle abandoned them at the stairs, presumably to alert the hostess.

Rue turned to her three companions and said with an air of celebration, “Let’s keep them as confused as possible, shall we?”

Quesnel looked game to play along.

Primrose nodded, an almost evil gleam to her dark eyes, before assuming an expression of pleasant enthusiasm. Percy rolled his eyes.

A large battleaxe of a woman bustled up to them, Lieutenant Broadwattle in her wake. “Ladies. Gentlemen. You are most welcome to our modest gathering. Most welcome, indeed. Such an honour. Now who is…?”

Lieutenant Broadwattle, doing his duty, said politely, “Lady Akeldama, Miss Tunstell, if I might introduce our lovely hostess, the ambassador’s wife, Mrs Godwit? Mrs Godwit, this is Lady Prudence Akeldama and the Honourable Primrose Tunstell.”

“Forgive me my dears, but which is which?”

Primrose stepped smoothly in before Lieutenant Broadwattle could elucidate. “Oh, Mrs Godwit, you’ll get accustomed to our little idiosyncrasies quite quickly. Allow me to introduce Professor Tunstell and Mr Lefoux.”

Percy’s bow was almost too perfunctory to be polite.