A thought crossed her mind. “You must arrange this apartment as you wish, but please leave the old carpet bag where it is. It’s a kind of charm for me.”

Turvey bowed her head. “I will remember, my lady. If you desire to change...?”

“You have half an hour,” Faith said, deciding to treat this as a test to see if Turvey could produce results as impressive as she wanted. Her own dress was unspectacular, but neat as a pin. She wore her hair dressed close to her head in a severe style that only emphasised the sharp angularity of her face. Nothing gave Faith confidence that she would turn her into the great lady she needed to be.

Twenty-five minutes proved enough time for her to change her mind. At the end of that period, Faith had become what she and Robinson had striven for. Seemingly effortlessly, Turvey took her new mistress and fashioned a countess. First her hair, which she trimmed a little, adding more shape to the mass of curls that adorned Faith’s head. The snips gave her a neater fashion, more groomed. Just a couple of clips of the scissors. Then, without using the curling iron, but with a few dabs of oil, she tamed the curls, made the frizz disappear.

Turvey stripped Faith, helped her into a fresh shift and tutted over her stays. “We should order you several new pairs,” she said, “If my lady permits, when we have more time I will take your measurements. Then we will know what we have to work with.”

Faith nodded. “Call me ma’am in private. I have no desire to be addressed like a public meeting.”

As she’d guessed, Turvey appreciated the familiarity Faith granted her. “Thank you, ma’am. When are you planning to go into half-mourning in public?”

“After Easter. We have a ball planned. My husband was only a distant relative of the last earl so we feel we might appear ostentatious to appear in full mourning after that time. But we should show respect for our predecessors.”

“An excellent compromise,” Turvey said, “If you will permit me to give an opinion?”

“I depend on it,” Faith said. Robinson helped her step into the gown she’d chosen and Turvey drew it over her shoulders and fastened it for her. This gown buttoned down the front with twenty tiny pearls, slightly off-white in colour, complimenting the grey of the gown perfectly.

“I believe grey suits you better than deep black,” Turvey said, stepping back to assess the effect. “We can make half-mourning most becoming. Cerisot is a good designer.”

“You know her?”

Turvey didn’t not curl her lip but Faith guessed she came close.

“I have worked with her before. I believe her the best available at the moment.”

“You must advise me on how many garments I need and what quality. I won’t come out of mourning until later in the year.” If she was still here, she added mentally.

“Naturally, ma’am, but we can plan for that. A splash of colour once you are allowed to dress that way. A rich ruby or a deep emerald. Bolder colours would work with your complexion. It is fortunate you are not forced into the pastels that young girls are encouraged to favour.”

Faith shuddered. “Indeed. I did wear them briefly, but they didn’t become me.” Even with her depleted fashion sense she knew she’d never appeared to advantage in pale pinks and blues. Much less whites and ivories.

“Since you are a married lady we may venture into more adventurous avenues. Fashion is taking a turn for the deeper and richer tones. We may prepare. It’s as well we have time.”

While she spoke her fingers didn’t remain idle. She walked around Faith, twitching the gown, adjusting, bending to check the hem. Finally she pinned a confection of lace over Faith’s curls that went by the laughingly inappropriate term of cap.

Faith checked the clock on the mantelpiece. “I need to go down now.”

Turvey dropped a light shawl over Faith’s shoulders. “I will, if you please, continue sorting your gowns and making a list of items it would be advisable to buy.”

“Thank you.”

Leaving Robinson with her new supervisor, Faith went downstairs, trying to recall the lessons in deportment she’d briefly received from one of her older sisters. In this gown she felt better.

She hadn’t realised before how much good fabric and design could change the way she felt about herself. As always she’d glanced in the mirror before she left to ensure everything was on straight and her hem wasn’t crooked. She paused, mildly surprised by the woman gazing out at her. No flyaway hair, not a one. A figure that appeared almost elegant, though she’d always thought she lacked the height elegance needed. More than neat.

John confirmed her opinion when she walked into the breakfast parlour. He came to meet her, a glow in his eyes she had reason to know meant he had an interest in something more intimate than food. She smiled in response and he took her hands. “You look splendid.”

Thank you. With the heat of his body warming her, she allowed him to take her to the table and seat her. The dowager glanced at her. “Most unexceptionable. I assume your new maid has arrived?”

“Yes.” The dowager made her feel that her maid had more to do with her appearance than she did, but perhaps she had the right of it. Turvey had certainly given her a polish she knew she couldn’t achieve on her own. However, a twinge of doubt touched her and the bright edge of her happiness rubbed away a little. Not all of it, because John hadn’t said anything of the kind. “It’s only a day gown.” However much she tried, she couldn’t say it was normal.

This outfit was far from normal for her; one she’d probably have worn for a formal occasion in her previous life, despite the high neckline and the ankle-length skirt.

“We did well during our first public appearance, I think,” John said.

Charlotte took a sip of her coffee. “Yes, we did. Especially you, John. You appeared to the manor born.”

“Thank you. But I was, unlike Faith. I may not have been born an earl, but I did inherit a respectable competence.”

“A trifle too frank, I feel,” the dowager remarked. “Mrs.

Drummond-Burrell did not appreciate your honesty.” She allowed herself a faint smile. “However, we can use that. I know several ladies who hold Mrs. Drummond-Burrell in dislike. I shall ensure they know the lady turned away from you today for no reason that I could fathom, or anyone standing nearby. It could prove useful.”

She collected a refill of tea.

Faith enjoyed this meal, where the footmen laid everything on the table or the sideboard and then left them to get on with it.

Maybe she should start to manage the house the way she preferred it. She should certainly speak to key members of staff. “I met the housekeeper along with the rest of the servants when I arrived, but I should prefer to interview her. And the cook and the butler.”

Lady Graywood bowed her head. “Of course. However, you will have many duties to fulfil in the next few weeks. You might wish to leave the details for a while.”

She saw no reason to avoid giving compliments when deserved.

“As you say. I have rarely known a house so well-managed.”

A slight smile, surely? Was she making progress?

Lady Graywood sighed. “Unfortunately, Mrs.

Drummond-Burrell also has her friends. Rumours are circulating already, which she will no doubt hear and embellish. Someone whispered in my ear that you are an adventuress, that Graywood did away with my two sons for your sake.” Charlotte and Louisa gasped. So did Faith, truly losing her breath for a moment. The countess went on smoothly. “Of course I refuted it in the strongest possible terms, but it’s juicy gossip. We do not live in the pages of a gothic novel, and neither is Graywood a person who would consider such a move. I should have that particular vicious story quashed by the time the season begins in earnest. It makes the ball even more important.”

How could she say that? She’d just discussed the possibility of the person who had succeeded to the title killing his way there.

Murdering her sons. Even if she believed the rumour totally unfounded, how could she behave so coldly, as if her sons had nothing to do with her? Faith stared at her plate, trying to bring her emotions under control. Giving way to an outburst wouldn’t help anyone. The dowager wouldn’t change her mind and Faith would appear hysterical. Nobody would gain anything. If she repeated it enough she might come to believe it.

“How would you like to proceed with arrangements for the ball?

Would you wish me to help?”

“It is your affair.” Lady Graywood shrugged. “You may make the arrangements if you wish.”

Faith appreciated having something to do when stressed. In truth, the disruption after Waterloo had taken her attention from her husband’s death enough to give her breathing space to get over the initial shock. She had mourned him truly, but only after she’d escaped Cockfosters and his men, and found a safe place. For that reason she didn’t want Lady Graywood to give up her plans.

However much her ladyship might conceal her grief, Faith refused to believe her sons’ deaths had not affected her. “I have arranged smaller functions of course, but I have no idea how to go on with larger, more fashionable gatherings.” A hint that she could disgrace the family by her inexperience, plus a touch of deference. It should work.

She received a gracious nod in response. “If you desire, I can draw up most of the plans and let you know how they are progressing.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out, Lady Graywood,” she said, one Lady Graywood to another, at least in the eyes of the world, if not in fact.