Crillick had invited more than twenty people to celebrate his return from the Continent. They were gathered in the drawing room, where the furniture had been pushed to one side and the rugs rolled up to make space for dancing. A buffet table had been set up and groaned with food, a three-tiered pink blancmange decorated with tiny flowers taking pride of place. I hovered two steps into the room, watching the guests as they stood talking in threes and fours, crystal goblets in hand. Some of the men I recognised from parties in the past. George Fayers, tall and dashing, often visited for cards and billiards. And there was Graham Alexander with a sharp cravat, his hair dark with Macassar oil. No doubt they knew Vincent had a mistress, but they wouldn’t have reason to know it was me. Crillick had always warned me to stay out of sight in case anyone probed Vincent on how we’d met and made the connection between me and Amazonia. Crillick called these people his friends but he didn’t think enough of them to trust them with his secrets. I should go in, but once I entered, they’d have every right to call on me to freshen their glasses, to paw at me. I needed to get my courage up before I subjected myself to that. The guests were the least of my problems, though. It was Sikkings and the other servants that I was most reluctant to see. It was hard enough getting their respect as Vincent’s mistress, but now I wore a uniform I knew Sikkings would take a cruel delight in ordering me around. I’d just have to make sure I stayed out of his way.

The ladies in the room were like a flock of birds in their bright dresses. I tugged at the bodice of the maid’s outfit. It was so tight I was almost spilling out of it. I looked up and my eyes caught Crillick’s. He’d been holding court on his recent travels to a pair of girls about my own age. Now he blinked and a slow smile spread across his face. A horrible suspicion came into my mind. Had he put Vincent up to this? It was just the sort of thing he’d get a kick out of.