‘How many people are down there?’ she asked, as they heard the sound of yet more cars drawing up outside on the gravel. It was a constant stream, it seemed.

‘It was supposed to be two hundred, but I think Lady Sibyl added a few more at the last minute. Apparently there are even news reporters at the gates.’

Effie flinched. ‘But why?’

‘For the society pages. People like reading about them.’

‘Oh . . . yes. Of course.’ The mere mention of reporters made her nervous.

‘There.’ Jenny stepped back, admiring her own work. ‘You could be Lady Sibyl’s twin.’

Effie stared at her unfamiliar reflection too. They would be sisters indeed tonight. ‘Well, that can only be a good thing,’ she murmured. ‘The less like me I am, the better.’

‘Shall I help you with the dress?’ Jenny asked.

Effie nodded. ‘I hardly know where to start with it.’

She slipped off the robe and stood still as Jenny carefully lowered it over her head, taking care not to ruin her hair; it gleamed like moonlight, as silken as a cat. Effie watched the fabric settle around her, the colour bringing out her own blue eyes as Jenny placed the finishing touch Sibyl had left for her – a paste sapphire necklace – around her neck.

The frantic tooting of a car horn outside made them both jump. Jenny ran to the window and looked down. She sighed. ‘There’s so many people. You had better go down. I’m needed to help the footmen tonight.’

Effie gave a nod, wishing she could hide below stairs too. But she knew she had to be brave, for Sholto’s sake. The hardest part would be walking in alone, but Sibyl had said she would be waiting for her by the fireplace in the tapestry room. For as long as she was in Sibyl’s company, she could stand quietly beside her and simply let the hostess shine. She probably wouldn’t even have to say a single word. No one could compete with Lady Sibyl Wainwright for sheer social dynamism and who would want to? Effie would only be there to show Sholto they were friends, she and Sibyl; and that it meant they could be too, that something was surely better than nothing . . .?

Effie pushed her feet into the shoes, adding another few inches to her already lofty height. ‘Wish me luck, then.’

The maid gave her an odd look. ‘Good luck.’