Simon reaches out and strokes her cheek. ‘Come, Miss Darken. You do recall what happened that day.’

It had been a trip of mortification. Everyone knew about the matrimonial fracas, from the bucks who turned their heads to watch them walk past, to the shop girls who sneered while they smiled. Whispers had followed the sisters like a cloud of flies. Agnes held herself tight and small, praying that no one would call out after them, but Constance had shown no embarrassment. If anything, she seemed to relish the attention.

Returning to the carriage provided no comfort. The day was unseasonably cold, which made the horses skittish. Dozens of parcels jolted against Agnes’s legs while she tried her best to sit back from the window and the stares that raked through it.

Of course the horses were Constance’s fault, too. She had insisted upon high-spirited beasts with an Arabian arch to their necks, delicate mouths and rolling eyes, ignoring the fact that they were unsuited to team a carriage.

The vehicle itself was ill-sprung, creaky and second-hand, yet Constance seemed determined to run it in the manner of a born lady, rather than a separated wife who should be comporting herself with discretion.

She wanted people to see her. Wanted to shame Simon as much as she could.

She was going about it the right way. Today’s purchases alone would nearly ruin him. The latest and most extravagant was a swansdown tippet that looped around her throat and fell to the hem of her dusky rose dress. It had cost more than Agnes could earn in a month.

And was Constance satisfied, now? As always, it was impossible to tell. She sat composed with her hands folded on her lap, gazing out of the window as though she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Agnes wanted to pick up the nearest hat box and hurl it at her.

‘I shall write to Miss Werrett and cancel that order,’ Agnes threatened. ‘I have no desire to wear matching gowns. The whole conceit strikes me as terribly affected.’

Constance offered no response. The horses skittered to the left, but she did not lose her balance. Agnes had to reach for the leather strap to brace herself.

‘Do you hear me, Constance? I will not wear it.’

‘Then I wonder,’ Constance observed coolly, ‘that you did not say so at the shop.’

‘It was humiliating enough, with those gossiping widows peering at us. I did not want to cause a scene.’

Constance continued looking out of the window. ‘No. You did not.’

How could she be so maddening? One would think her the picture of innocence sitting there in pink and white with a spray of flowers tucked behind her ear.

‘I will write,’ Agnes repeated.

‘Then you must suffer the consequences.’