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‘It’s a shame and no mistake,’ Rosanna acknowledged wistfully, ‘because I quite fancy Paris. I’ve never been – your father had an unaccountable dislike of risking getting his head chopped off, even before the bloody wars started. Perhaps I should be bold and head for America instead.’

‘We’re at war with them too,’ Amelia said, suppressing an impulse to laugh.

Her stepmother waved this inconvenient fact away as a mere detail.

‘I’m sure there are ships slipping through the blockade every day of the week.

There’s always smuggling to be done and profit to be had, and if I don’t have any connections down on the docks, I’ll wager Zeke does.

He knows everybody. And I’m positive I could make a big splash in New York or Boston.

I expect they have theatres – they must have.

“The notorious Lady Wyverne appearing for the first time on an American stage!” Can’t you see it? ’

‘I can,’ Amelia admitted. ‘I should wish you good fortune, then. Not that I think you need it. It seems to me that you can very well look after yourself.’

The older woman grinned at her wryly. ‘Well, I’ve needed to often enough in my life; I should be an old hand at it by now.

Talking of which, how’s that sister-in-law of yours?

She’s a cunning baggage and no mistake. I hired her as your old grandmother’s companion, when I was in my pomp, and before I could so much as blink, she was cosying up to your brother with designs on him plain for all to see.

I bet she never told you about all that.

’ There was just a faint trace of malice still in her voice, and though Amelia couldn’t help liking her, she wasn’t sure she was entirely to be trusted, and certainly not where Sophie – the new Lady Wyverne, her replacement – was concerned.

‘It’s none of my business how they met.’ It was also true that Amelia didn’t feel her own conscience was clear enough these days to want to sit in judgement on anyone else.

‘They’re very happy, and they have a baby son they both dote on.

I can’t imagine anyone else who would suit Rafe half so well.

He’s a different man since he met her – as though the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders.

He was always worried and anxious before, and seemed much older than his years. ’

‘If that’s to my account, there’s no need to rub it in.

I’ve said I wronged him, haven’t I? I’m no hand at apologising – I don’t have a lot of practice at it – but will you tell him for me that I’m sorry?

I doubt he’ll credit it, but I really am.

Some of the things I did when I was married to your father don’t sit easy in my mind, and the way I treated him is one of them. ’

‘I will tell him, ma’am, I promise.’

It seemed there was nothing more to be said, but then Rosanna added abruptly, as if against her will, ‘I can’t ever be a mother to you, or to anybody, God knows, the idea is ridiculous, and I dare say you’ve wished me at Jericho often enough since you’ve been old enough to know who and what I am.

I know my existence by itself makes things harder for you.

But when people tell you of all the scandalous things I’ve done, which I’m sure they will once you’re married and more fit to hear them…

’ She stopped, and then said, ‘The gossip’s probably all true in my case; the most malicious old cat alive would struggle to invent things when what I’ve really done is bad enough.

I can’t dodge the tittle-tattle – I expect it’ll follow me even to America and I’ll end up selling myself again, one way or another.

But you don’t have to – not in the ways I have, and not in the ways so many society ladies do.

One man or a dozen – you’d be surprised how little difference it makes if that one man’s cruel, and so many of them are.

Don’t do anything because a man tries to make you, girl.

Don’t do anything that hurts you just so you can keep him.

It isn’t worth it. No man’s worth it, and a bad man’s worth less than nothing, no matter if he has a fancy title and riches and a bloody big house.

’ And with these words of wisdom, she turned and melted away into the crowd, and in a moment, Amelia couldn’t see her any more.

She shook her head to clear it. The music had started up again, and many more couples had taken to the stage, keen to continue enjoying their evening.

Others were gossiping hard, shocked faces outnumbered by gleeful ones.

Had it ever happened before that a woman – a lady of quality – had been dragged by the Bow Street Runners from the middle of a masquerade at the Opera House?

And the charge was murder. It would be a subject of scandal for days or even weeks, and these fortunate individuals could say that they had been here to see it, every thrilling moment of it.

That was worth the price of admission by itself.

But nobody was paying Amelia herself the least attention, and she thought she should profit from it by leaving.

She had to make her way across London – she hoped she would be able to hail a hackney, and that the driver of it would not take it into his head to murder her, or kidnap her for purposes she’d prefer not to contemplate.

Having got her here – for she now knew that although Lavinia had thought she had been pulling the strings, the real author of the evening’s proceedings had been Mr Pennyfeather – she thought the Runner might have arranged that she should get home safely too.

After all, it hadn’t been strictly necessary to bring her here to witness Lavinia’s downfall, except as some demonstration of the operation of justice.

But it seemed that even a being as omniscient as he appeared to be couldn’t think of absolutely everything.

Amelia turned and began pushing her way through the crowd towards the exit.

It was ridiculously difficult to get by the knots of avidly chattering people, and it seemed her way was blocked at last by a particularly solid body – a man, a very tall one, who showed no disposition to let her pass.

Not now, please God, she thought, I’m really not in the humour to be accosted now .

I just want to go home! She looked up, scowling, ready to stamp on a foot or drive a pin deep into someone’s groping hand.

But it was Marcus.