Concealed behind the drawing-room’s heavy lace curtains, Lillian watched their departure. She cried out as though in pain when Donald held out a chivalrous hand to assist Mary as she climbed up and took her place on the buggy seat above. He looked very dapper, now fully dressed in his well-cut charcoal morning coat and a bowler atop his crown, as he effortlessly mounted alongside his charge. She wondered why Mary struggled to look him in the eye. The silly girl had hardly seemed able to take her eyes from the carpet the entire time she’d sat on the ottoman. On the occasions Lillian herself had stolen a moment with Donald, she’d taken pride in never flinching from his gaze, which up until that point he had bestowed on her pleasingly often.
Despite their unequal social standing, the realisa
