“Far worse! Oh, my dear, do brace yourself. This is an untamed country, wild even. And so very dangerous. It is not the brigadier but his wife. Mrs Featherstonehaugh – young Mrs Featherstonehaugh – has been kidnapped! By native dissidents. Possibly those wretched Marathas. You know some of their women… Oh, it’s too much, too much for young ears.”

Primrose pressed her to continue.

“Some Maratha women do not wear skirts.”

Even Rue was shocked by that statement.

“You mean…?” gasped Prim, eyes wide.

“Oh no, dear. Not that. But sort of trousers instead. They ride along with their men into battle. It hardly bears thinking about, so ungenteel. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Young Mrs Featherstonehaugh, only a few days ago now – kidnapped! Along with some recently collected taxes. Although, of course, one cannot even contemplate the loss of the money when compared to what that poor girl must be suffering.”

Rue wanted to ask if they would force Mrs Featherstonehaugh to go skirtless, but didn’t want to interfere with the flow Primrose was coaxing forth.

Prim patted Mrs Godwit’s arm. “So sad.”

Mrs Godwit needed no more encouragement. “Of course, the dear brigadier is most distraught. Overwrought and despairing. All his attention of late has been occupied with investigating his wife’s disappearance. Poor lamb. So of course, he is unable to attend. The werewolves, I understand, will be looking in to tender their respects to you, our honoured visitors, before heading out to continue tracking. But the chances of recovering the unfortunate girl seem slim.”

Prim gasped.

Quesnel murmured appropriately aghast niceties.

Rue turned to Lieutenant Broadwattle. “Is this true?”

The lieutenant replied, “To the best of my knowledge. But I am only a lowly lieutenant and not on friendly terms with the brigadier.”

Rue was concerned for the Featherstonehaughs’ plight, of course, but having not met any of the players, she failed to be emotionally involved. Her attention drifted and she scanned the party, looking to identify Miss Sekhmet’s contact.

Lieutenant Broadwattle said, “Oh dear, I do believe most people believe Miss Tunstell is you. I suspect it is her continued conversation with Mrs Godwit, not to mention the elegance of her dress.” The gentleman caught himself at that. “Not that your gown isn’t pretty…” He trailed off, uncomfortable. “Should I make an announcement to the contrary? I mean, about you being you.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf.” Rue was waiting to see if anyone, taken in by the scam, was desperately trying to get Primrose alone to pass on a message. But the cycles of social interaction seemed perfectly ordinary for a garden party, even one in Bombay. “Have there been any ransom demands?”

The lieutenant looked confused.

Rue elaborated: “For the brigadier’s missing wife?”

“Not that we’ve been told.”

“Odd.”

“Not very – this is India, Lady Akeldama. They do things differently here.”

“Yes, but that differentially? Why else would they want her?”