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“I—I’m so-sorry,” Esme said. “Those are my bro—my brother’s soldiers, that’s all. Nanny must have brought them with her. I haven’t seen them in years.”

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“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“His name was Benjamin.”

Henrietta got up and sat next to Esme on the couch and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

“He died when he was fa-five. It was a long time ago. I shouldn’t cry about it now. It was just seeing his tin soldiers again.” And she dissolved into sobbing on Henrietta’s shoulder. “I ne-ne-never cry,” she wailed. “Never! I didn’t even cry at the funeral, even though he was my own sweet Benjamin, my own-own poppet, and no one loved him the way I did. He was my very own.”

“Oh, Esme, I’m so sorry,” Henrietta repeated. Her own eyes felt prickly. “That’s awful.”

But Esme was pulling herself upright. “I am so tired of all this grief,” she said in a wavery sort of way. “I truly haven’t cried much in my life at all. I know you probably don’t believe me, because we’ve only known each other a month, but it’s true. I am not a wet blanket. At least, not in my normal state.”

“There’s nothing improper about crying at the memory of one’s brother. Any child’s death is heartbreaking.”

Esme blew her nose, which was already rather red, and reached for a lemon tart, except Josie had eaten them all. Henrietta passed her a tray of jellies.

“I cry at everything. This morning I spilled my hot chocolate all over the bed and almost started crying over that. All I do is eat and cry. Thank goodness, at least I enjoy the former activity. I’m sorry, Henrietta. What were we discussing before this happened?”

“Nothing terribly important.”

“Yes we were,” Esme said. “I was trying to pry out of you what happened with Darby. Because you left the house last Monday, looking quite pleased with each other, but have you exchanged more than two words in the last few days?”

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“Of course we have spoken on occasion,” Henrietta said in her most reasonable voice. “We don’t have a great deal to say to each other, but that is natural when people’s interests are so very disparate.”

“I simply can’t understand it. I’m a fairly good judge of character. I truly thought you two were a certain match, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Henrietta did mind. But what could she say about it? “Of course I don’t,” she hastened to say. “I think you simply misinterpreted our interest in each other.”

“I may not be able to sew a straight seam to save my life, but I’m an expert at interpreting males,” Esme said. “What’s more, I know Darby. When I left the two of you in the drawing room, he had the look of a man about to steal a kiss. And, darling, having been in the ton for too many years to remember, and having kissed a huge number of men, that is one look that I recognize!”

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how one looks at it), Henrietta didn’t have to answer because the ladies of the sewing circle streamed into the room, all chattering at once. Esme heaved herself to her feet and waved at Slope to remove the empty plate that had once contained lemon tarts; Henrietta rose to greet Lady Winifred, Mrs. Barret-Ducrorq and, to her surprise, her stepmother, Millicent. Henrietta knew immediately why Millicent had joined the sewing circle. Her stepmother never attended charity functions, having declared them boring as dust years ago. But Darby’s presence in the house made it different. She undoubtedly wished to observe his behavior around Henrietta. Or vice versa.

Mrs. Cable bustled in a bit late, after the rest of the ladies were settled with a cup of tea. “Hello! Hello!” she shrilled, darting around the room and issuing kisses. She stopped short before Henrietta and said, “Well, Lady Henrietta!”

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Henrietta curtsied. “How nice to see you, Mrs. Cable.”

“I saw you but you didn’t see me,” Mrs. Cable said archly, shaking her finger at Henrietta.

Henrietta felt a sinking in her stomach.

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Cable said, with the shrill pleasure of a woman holding a piece of ripe gossip. “I was there.”

“There? Where?”

“Well, I was in my traveling carriage, actually,” Mrs. Cable said. “We were going to visit my sister who lives a mere five miles away, but my husband always says to me, ‘Mrs. Cable, make yourself comfortable whenever you wish.’ So I had, my dear. I had taken the traveling carriage even for such a short distance.”