“I shall not be looking at him,” she remarked imperiously. “Rather, he will be looking at me.”
The idea of being looked at took such root in Great-Aunt Cloris, that the following morning she sent Eugenia to Bond Street Arcade to purchase some rouge and lip colour.
Eugenia undertook the task with alacrity. She enjoyed strolling through the Arcade, looking at all the pretty items in the shops.
Bridget, who accompanied her, shifted the basket on her arm and grunted.
“You’ll have all them things one day, miss.”
“Not I!” laughed Eugenia. “I shall marry a penniless poet!”
Wending their way home, they paused opposite Great-Aunt Cloris’s house in Craven Hill to watch a handsome carriage drive by.
The carriage drove to the end of the street, where the driver sat for a minute, seeming uncert
