I left her to put away my things and went along the passageway to find my mother. Mummy looked pleased when I went to see if she was ready for dinner. “You look quite presentable for once, darling. You’ll never be a great beauty like me, but you could turn some heads if you learned to make the most of yourself. This fresh-scrubbed look was fine before you came out, but you really should learn some makeup tricks. I’ll have to teach you. Come over here and let me put on some rouge and lipstick.”

“No, really I’m all right,” I said, but Mummy was already brandishing a lipstick. So I was feeling rather self-conscious as we walked down the staircase to the first class dining room. It was now full of people and the murmur of voices echoed from the high stained glass ceiling and the gallery above. Lights twinkled from polished silver and glassware on the white-clothed tables. The maître d’ bowed when he spotted Mummy. “Miss Daniel, Lady Georgiana. The captain has requested that you do him the honor of dining at his table. This way, please.”

Mummy paused and posed prettily, to make sure the whole dining room was aware of her, and gave me a pleased little smirk as the maître d’ led us down the full length of the dining salon. I glanced around, just in case Darcy was at one of those tables, but I saw no sign of him as I started after my mother. Unfortunately the fashionable and low-backed dress also had a very tight skirt. I had to take lots of little tiny steps in my unaccustomed high-heeled shoes to try and keep up with Mummy. It was unfortunate that I was halfway down the dining room when the ship gave an impressive roll. Suddenly I was tottering forward, going faster and faster and the only way of stopping myself was to grab on to the back of an approaching chair. Unfortunately also, the chair was occupied by a large bare back into which I careened with a thump. The poor woman had been about to take a sip of a cocktail and I had managed to thrust her face right into the glass. I suspect the cherry had gone up her nose as she gave a rather peculiar strangled sort of snort before she let out a gasp of indignation.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t mean . . .”

She spun on me, her face spattered with amber liquid. “You clumsy, stupid girl,” she said in a clipped American accent. “What sort of game do you think . . .”

Suddenly the maître d’ was at my side. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I should have escorted you personally, since we’re going through a rough patch of water.”