Miriam sat down. “As long as nobody asks me to dance,” she said ruefully. “I’ve got two left feet, it seems—” she plucked at her lap. “And as long as I don’t end up being cornered by a drunken backwoods peer who thinks not being fluent in his language is a sign of an imbecile. And as long as I don’t accidentally mistake some long-lost third cousin seven times removed for the hat check clerk and resurrect a two hundred year old blood feud. And as long as—”

“Dear,” the duchess said quietly, “do please shut up.”

The countess, who had grown up as Miriam but who everyone around her but the duchess habitually called Helge, stopped in mid-flow. “Yes, mother,” she said meekly. Folding her hands in her lap she breathed out. Then she raised one eyebrow.

The duchess looked at her for almost a minute, then nodded minutely. “You’ll pass,” she said. “With the jewellery, of course. And the posh frock. As long as you don’t let your mouth run away with you.” Her cheek twitched. “As long as you remember to be Helge, not Miriam.”

“I feel like I’m acting all the time!” Miriam protested.

“Of course you do.” The duchess finally smiled. “Imposter syndrome goes with the territory.” The smile faded. “And I didn’t do you any favors in the long run by hiding you from all this.” She gestured around the room. “It becomes harder to adapt, the older you get.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Miriam frowned momentarily. “I can deal with disguises and a new name and background, I can even cope with trying to learn a new language, it’s the sense of permanence that’s disconcerting. I grew up an only child, but Helge has all these—relatives—I didn’t grow up with, and they’re real. That’s hard to cope with. And you’re here, and part of it!” Her frown returned. “And now this evening’s junket. If I thought I could avoid it, I’d be in my rooms having a stomach cramp all afternoon.”

“That would be a Bad Idea.” The duchess still had the habit of capitalizing her speech when she was waxing sarcastic, Miriam noted.

“Yes, I know that. I’m just—there are things I should be doing do that are more important than attending a royal garden party. It’s all deeply tedious.”

“With an attitude like that you’ll go far.” Her mother paused. “All the way to the scaffold if you don’t watch your lip, at least in public. Do I need to explain how sensitive to social niceties your position here is? This is not America—”

“Yes, well, more’s the pity.” Miriam shrugged minutely.