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“Annabel,” their mother said. “How long have you been under that bed?”

Annabel stuck out her chin. “I wanted to hear about Allegra’s party.”

“You were spying,” Allegra said.

“Just listening, not spying. Spying is when—”

“Annabel.” Their mother frowned. “Hiding is a very bad habit. I must never hear of you hiding again.”

Annabel hung her head. “Yes, Mama.”

“To bed with you.” Phoebe pointed toward the door, and Annabel trudged toward it, dragging the blue counterpane.

When the door closed, Phoebe turned back to her two eldest children. “Allegra, don’t be a goose about Jane Fawkener. Clive, take the girls shopping tomorrow. Make sure Jane Fawkener won’t embarrass the family. Goodnight.” Phoebe’s expression ended the interview. She dipped two fingers into her cosmetic pot and drew forth a dollop of aromatic cream.

Clive bowed. He’d won enough of a victory to enjoy Pamela’s company.

In the course of a long Season, the Husband Hunter will inevitably hear remarks from married ladies about the nature of conjugal intimacy. On hearing such remarks, she may doubt that she can judge a man’s character from his public manner at a ball or in the park. Her natural curiosity about the more private side of a man’s nature may tempt her into situations of the utmost peril to her honor and her reputation. Every man in London knows his way to a balcony, an obscure anteroom, or a palm-secluded corner of a conservatory in which he may offer to satisfy the Husband Hunter’s curiosity in these matters. The Husband Hunter will do well to avoid such locales and to remember that, until she is betrothed, the two intimacies by which she may signal her favor are the pressure of her hand and the warmth of her gaze.

—The Husband Hunter’s Guide to London

Chapter Fifteen

A message brought Clive and Allegra to Jane’s door early. Allegra proposed a shopping expedition starting with Botibol’s, the plumassier on Oxford Street, where a lady could purchase ostrich plumes and flowers to adorn her hat. Jane readily agreed. It was just the escape from Hazelwood that she needed. The cold, clear light of day forced her to admit to herself that she had been too much affected by his kiss.

From the moment she entered her cousins’ carriage, Jane understood that her unspoken rivalry with Allegra had heated up in spite of the bitter weather. Jane offered no competition in the most visible hat category, for Jane’s close-fitting blue velvet cap came in a distant runner up to Allegra’s fur-lined rose silk bonnet with striking green ribbons. Nor could she challenge Allegra’s personal attractions. Allegra’s golden hair gleamed in large curls, and her blue eyes stood out vividly above her rosy cheeks.

Clive attended the ladies as far as a shop on Old Bond Street, where, Allegra said, they would find “indispensable” ribbons. At the prospect of ribbon shopping, Clive bowed and took his leave. A footman was engaged to carry their purchases, and Clive promised to meet them with the barouche at the foot of the street.

In his absence, Allegra linked arms with Jane. It felt awkward but daring to walk abreast in the street without her veils. At least Allegra’s hat drew most of the stares from passersby.

“We are your family and must take an interest in you,” Allegra said. “Clive wants you to come live with us, you know.”

“Does he?” Jane concealed a smile at Allegra’s way of making family into a millstone.

Allegra nodded. “So after last night, I feel I must advise you how to get on in London society.”

“And what do you advise?” She wondered if her cousin had read the Husband Hunter’s guide.

Allegra gave a great sigh. “First, you must take great care not to engage the attention of a man who is already the property of another woman.”

“You mean a betrothed man, of course.”

“Never!” Allegra nodded emphatically, her plumes bobbing. “But really the rule goes further. You must not admit attentions from any man with even a slight inclination in another lady’s favor until she dismisses him. It’s not done.”

“Thank you for putting me on my guard.”

“It’s no trouble. As a cousin, I feel I must help you understand London ways. Your position in society is so precarious.”

“Precarious?”

“In your situation,” Allegra looked very grave, “you must forget you had a father. Oh, I know that sounds heartless, but what did he ever do for you but leave you penniless and wholly dependent on us?” Allegra gave Jane’s arm a slight squeeze.

Jane could neither nod nor speak. Her certainty of her father’s being alive somewhere was momentarily rocked by Allegra’s blithe acceptance of his death. She concentrated on not betraying her feelings. Allegra intended no cruelty.

“I’m glad we understand each other. Now let me tell you about this part of London.”

Allegra explained how most of the Old Bond Street shops catered strictly to gentlemen. When Jane asked why they looked at shops they would not enter, Allegra assured her that it was perfectly respectable to walk the street in the morning as long as they did not return the glances of impertinent gentlemen. Jane smiled to herself at the Allegra logic of inviting glances one did not mean to return, but she enjoyed the freedom of sending her own glance everywhere.