she remained stubborn. She is bold and wicked. I have paid you a large sum in advance, and you may demand more if necessary, for you have a great task in front of you. A rake by the name of Lord Peter Havard was bold enough to address Fiona on the road here. She is to have nothing to do with such a type.’
‘Lord Peter is the younger son of the Duke of Penshire,’ said Effy. ‘Very rich and considered quite a catch.’
‘Then let someone else catch him,’ said Mrs Burgess. ‘Such a match would be counted as a failure.’
Effy looked pleadingly at Amy. Amy knew what that look meant. It meant, do not take this job. But Amy had a parcel of pound notes on her lap, the Burgesses having decided to pay their advance in hard cash, and she could feel the warmth from all that money seeping through her bones.
‘Perhaps we should meet our new charge?’ she said.
Mrs Burgess nodded and a footman went to fetch Fiona from the carriage.
Effy and Amy waited for this bold and brazen hussy to burst into the room. She would probably be rebellious, angry, and defiant.
The double doors were opened and a slight figure walked in. Effy and Amy both looked beyond the girl, looking for someone else, but Mrs Burgess said, ‘This is my niece, Miss Fiona Macleod. Fiona, make your curtsy to Miss Effy and Miss Amy Tribble.’
Amy and Effy stared as if they could not believe their eyes. Fiona Macleod was a waif, albeit a fashionably dressed one. She had a small pale face and large, large eyes that appeared colourless.
‘Remove your bonnet, Fiona,’ ordered Mrs Burgess. Fiona untied the ribbons of her bonnet and took it off. Her hair was thick and fine and slate-coloured. Wispy curly fine tendrils rioted about her pale face.
Those large eyes of hers gazed at the sisters. They held no expression whatsoever.
Poor thing! was Effy’s first thought. They have bullied that poor child into a shadow.
Needs feeding and a bit of rouge, thought Amy.
Mrs Burgess rose to her feet and her husband followed suit. ‘We shall leave Fiona in your capable hands,’ she said. ‘Use the birch if necessary.’
‘I do not think we shall find that form of discipline necessary,’ said Amy firmly. ‘Do you journey back to Tunbridge Wells this evening?’
‘No, no.’ Mrs Burgess shuddered. ‘Such a long way. We shall put up at Grillon’s Hotel and leave tomorrow.’
‘Then you may call on Fiona before you leave,’ said Amy.
‘You are being paid to take care of the girl,’ said Mrs Burgess coldly. ‘We shall call again when the engagement is to be announced.’
Amy and Effy went downstairs with the Burgesses and saw them out. When they returned, Fiona was sitting by the fire, warming her hands.
‘You may retire to your room, child,’ said Effy. ‘Our housekeeper, Mrs Lamont, will show you the way. You must be exhausted after your journey.’
‘Not at all, ma’am,’ said Fiona.
‘Are you hungry?’ asked Amy. ‘We sit down to dinner in half an hour.’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am. I am very hungry.’
Probably starved the child, thought Amy furiously. Aloud, she said, ‘Then go to your room and change and you may join us.’
Fiona appeared promptly at the dining table exactly half an hour later. Amy was a good judge of fashion for anyone but herself. She noticed Fiona’s silk gown was fussy and unbecoming.
Soup was served. Amy took a mouthful and spluttered and then shouted at the new butler, Harris, who was standing at attention. ‘What is this, cat’s urine?’
‘It is vegetable soup, ma’am,’ said the butler in injured tones. ‘If you will remember, ma’am, you complained that turtle soup was too expensive.’
‘A pox on the expense and bad cess to the cook,’ howled Amy. ‘Make sure the other courses are fit for human consumption.’
‘Amy!’ Effy threw her sister an anguished look.
Amy turned beet-red. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Forgot meself.’
Fiona raised her napkin to her lips. Laughter shone in her large