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“A countess in spectacles.”

“Noblewomen make fashion, they don’t follow it.”

Stella took a deep breath and reminded herself how lucky she was. Many an orphaned girl had no dowry at all, let alone affectionate relatives who cared what became of her, even if they couldn’t bring themselves to approve of her.

Somehow the thought wasn’t very comforting.

The carriage was slowing down. Stella glanced idly out the window and then let out a shriek. “Stop!” She banged on the roof to catch their coachman’s attention. “Tweed, stop the carriage!”

Her aunt looked about wildly. “Have we lost a wheel?”

The vehicle came to an abrupt halt. Stella pushed the door open and jumped to the ground, nearly falling to her knees before she caught herself. She picked up her skirts and ran back along the street, her eyes searching the road.

The little shape she’d seen whirling away from the carriage wheels lay motionless in the gutter. Behind her, her aunt was calling out shrill commands to their coachman, Tweed.

Stella crouched down beside the corpse. It was a white kitten, striped in dark gray. Sadly, it had probably been only a month old. She adjusted her spectacles and then realized that its narrow rib cage was moving.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathed, scooping it up. As far as she could tell by gently stroking its legs, no limbs were broken. The kitten shuddered all over and blinked open dazed blue eyes.

“You can’t see me clearly, can you?” Stella breathed.

“What is it?” her aunt shrilled, arriving at her shoulder. “Thank goodness you have your gloves on.” She gasped, hands flying to her heart. “Stella, that’s a rat! They come in white, you know. Drop it, this moment!”

“It’s a kitten.”

The cat let out a near-soundless meow.

Mrs. Thyme bent down and squinted. “What an unattractive animal. The stables at our country house are populated by red felines. Do put that creature down, Stella.”

Stella came to her feet, nestling the kitten in her cupped hands. “Look, she has dark rings around her eyes, as if she wears spectacles.”

“A fanciful interpretation,” Mrs. Thyme said.

Stella dropped a kiss on the kitten’s nose.

Her aunt sighed. “I suppose the mews can always use another cat to keep down the rat population. Give it to Tweed. The Boodle residence is only a block from here, and we’re already late.” She turned and started back for the carriage, calling over her shoulder, “Do come along, Stella!”

Stella brought the kitten up to eye level. The stripes that spread over its forehead gave it a worried look. “You are a darling,” she crooned. “Are you a girl or a boy?”

She—or he—opened its mouth and meowed again, displaying tiny needlelike teeth. “You look like a girl to me, which means you can come to a ladies’ tea party,” Stella whispered.

Her reticule was too small, but she wore a sizable pocket tied under her skirts as she often carried a book.

She glanced over her shoulder to make certain her aunt was safely in the carriage before she eased the kitten through the slit in her skirts into her pocket. She kept a comforting hand on the cat as she walked back to the carriage.

“Are your gloves soiled?” her aunt demanded once Stella was seated and the carriage started up.

Stella spread her hands, displaying spotless white silk. She didn’t dare to glance down at the lump nestled beside her. Thankfully, the kitten showed no signs of wanting to claw herself free.

Mrs. Thyme sighed with relief. “We’ll tell Tweed to feed the animal with a milky cloth. It’s too small for minced beef.”

“Thank you!” Stella responded.

“Speaking of food, given Lady Boodle’s status in the ton, it would be most unfortunate if any of her china broke. I suggest that you refuse a cup of tea.”

“At a tea party?” Stella ventured.

“They’ll assume you’re on a reducing diet,” Mrs. Thyme said.