“It’s Miss Russell,” I corrected him coolly, “and yes, Your Highness, they’re quite nice, thank you.”

“Ah. Tommy told me you were married,” he said, his voice rising to a question.

“I am.” Let him figure it out. The element of puzzle allowed the calculation to edge further into his expression, and then it was gone, and his firm and welcoming handshake was over. “Very well: Miss Russell, welcome to Khanpur.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you ride?” he asked, as at a sudden thought.

“I do.”

“Some of us are going out in the morning,” he said. “If you don’t object to blood sport. You too, Gay. You used to be one for the spear.” I could not tell if I was imagining the air of double-entendre to his last comment, but Gay seemed in no doubt. She put up her chin and gave him a regal glare.

“I’ve grown up some since then, Jimmy. I’m a little more choosy about my sport.”

He laughed, and said to me, “Seven o’clock if you like, Miss Russell, just ring for a riding outfit.”

And then he was gone back to his other guests, leaving me wondering at the peculiar tremors that followed in his wake.

Gay was working to get the knocked-off end of her cigarette alight, her hands not altogether steady. I watched her, thinking that it would take a good deal to shake an aristocrat like this from her self-confidence.

“He’s your cousin?” I asked.

She finally had the thing going, and drew deeply on it, closing her eyes briefly against the smoke. “Distant cousin, of a sort. My mother’s mother was married to Jimmy’s father’s sister’s brother-in-law.”

“And people say the European monarchy is confusing.”

She did not seem to register my remark. “We went to school together for a couple of months, when my parents got the emancipation bug and decided I should go with my brothers, and the school took a while to figure how to get rid of me. And later Jimmy came home with my brothers a couple of holidays.” She shot a dark look across the hall to where he stood, his back to us. “If that girl is your friend, her mother should be told not to leave the child alone with him.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I promised.

“It’s just that he’s . . . persuasive.”

“I see.”

Gay glanced down at the end of her holder, where the stub was nearly burnt out, and plucked it out with her long fingernails, allowing it to fall onto the ornate tiles. “Suddenly I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go back to my rooms. Have a nice ride in the morning.”