The dining room's theme was that of hunting. The mural on the longest wall depicted gods and satyrs chasing helpless oxen and boar through a featureless wood. Most of the animals looked like pincushions full of spears, and those already dead lay broken in pools of blood.

At least ten people gathered around the table-I'd not thought this would be a large house party, but perhaps my ideas of large and Lady Southwick's differed.

The head of the table was empty, but Lady Southwick sat at its foot. Lord Southwick was far away in Greece at the moment. I'd been told that he was often far away in Greece.

Lady Southwick looked to be of an age with Donata Breckenridge, her hair fair with a touch of red. Lady Southwick's gown was a near match to Donata's, dark green and black to my lady's cream and silver. The two women also had similar bearing and mannerisms, as though the same set of governesses had trained and finished both.

The difference ended there, however. Lady Breckenridge had developed a sharp intelligence, while Lady Southwick wore a sly, predatory look of a person who thought herself more clever than she was.

The guests did not look up or cease conversation when the butler led me to the only empty chair, which was on Lady Southwick's left. This put me nowhere near Lady Breckenridge, who sat at the other end of the table next to a dandy called Rafe Godwin. She and Godwin carried on a merry conversation, neither glancing my way.

When I could pull my gaze from Lady Breckenridge, I looked across the table and saw a man I knew very well indeed. He was the most popular gentleman in England, and his name was Lucius Grenville.

The source of Bartholomew's good humor became clear. While in the servants' hall, Bartholomew must have come across his brother, Matthias, who was footman to Grenville. Bartholomew would think it a good joke to surprise me with Grenville's presence.