Catherine tore her arm away and rounded on her. ‘Stuff and nonsense, Margaret.’

Margaret blinked. ‘Pardon?’

‘What does that even mean? “The caged canary does not eat from the hands of vipers”? Vipers don’t have hands. And would a canary truly prefer to be caged than take a risk on someone who might seem dangerous, but – but maybe they aren’t dangerous at all. Maybe the viper only wants to share some birdseed! Did you think of that when you were concocting your ridiculous moral?’

Margaret stepped back. ‘Why – I don’t think you comprehend—’

‘I comprehend well enough. Your so-called morals are nothing but an excuse to act better than the rest of us. To treat us as though we are not as clever or as righteous as you, when really, all you’re doing is trying to hide your own insecurities! It’s childish and contemptible and I’ve put up with it long enough.’

Margaret’s cheeks turned the same colour as the strapped-on nose. ‘Why, I . . . that isn’t fair. I’ve never . . .’ She huffed. ‘This is unacceptable, Lady Pinkerton. I hoped that you, more than anyone, would be happy for me, but I see now that you’ve been harbouring too much envy to be mollified. I suppose it’s true that I’ve always held myself to a higher standard than you, but I’ve done my best to keep you in my good graces nevertheless. To try and raise you to my level, so you could see the error of your ways.’

‘Please. Spare me.’

Margaret’s eyes darted past her and widened. ‘Ah! Fair evening, my lord.’

‘To you as well, my lady.’

Catherine turned to Lord Warthog, who had joined them, his small ears trembling with joy. He was wearing a snout to match Margaret’s, though it hardly changed the look of his face at all.

She rolled her eyes in disgust.

‘How do you do, Lady Pinkerton?’ he asked.

‘Not as well as some, it would seem.’

‘Lady Pinkerton,’ Margaret said through her teeth, ‘is out of sorts tonight.’

‘I am most sorry to hear that. I actually wondered if I might have a word with you, although’ – he cleared his throat, and his voice softened – ‘only after Lady Mearle tells me whether she might have any openings left on her dance card?’

‘Something tells me you’ll have your pick of them,’ Catherine grumbled, but her low insult went ignored as Margaret and the Duke flirted and flustered until Margaret made some comment about powdering her nose and bustled away. The draped fabric of her gown swayed behind her as she marched into the flurry of coattails and petticoats, and the Duke watched as dopey eyed as a flamingo.

‘Good riddance,’ Catherine cursed after her.

‘Beg pardon, Lady Pinkerton?’ said the Duke.

She sneered. ‘For shame, Your Grace! You should know better than to eavesdrop on a girl when she’s grumbling to herself.’

‘Ah yes, I do apologize.’ The Duke rubbed at his jowl. ‘Please, finish your thoughts.’

Catherine crossed her arms over her chest. Margaret was egotistical and wearisome, and for all his faults, the Duke could have done better for himself. But what business was it of hers?

None at all, perhaps, though it filled her with loathing. Margaret, of all people! Insidious, obnoxious Margaret was being courted by a man who adored her. There would be no hiding and no shame and everyone would bless them joyfully and wish upon them many snout-nosed children.

‘Shall I speak now?’

She grunted. ‘Fine, go ahead.’

‘I am sorry to see you feeling so poorly, Lady Pinkerton,’ said the Duke. ‘I wanted to thank you. I’m not sure what involvement you might have had in turning Lady Mearle’s affections towards me, but . . . well, a favour for a favour, I believe our deal was.’ He grinned around his tusks. ‘The storefront is vacant, now, if you weren’t aware. I understand if you’ve no longer any interest, given the . . . the situation with the King . . .’ His eyes twinkled and for a moment Catherine feared he might wink at her, but he didn’t. ‘But should you still want to lease the building from me, I could hardly deny you anything.’

Her jaw began to ache from grinding her teeth.

The storefront was hers.

Now, when she had no hope of a blessing from her parents, nor a shilling from her dowry, nor an ounce of respect from her peers if she dared to reject the King’s proposal.

Now, when her friendship with Mary Ann was over.

‘Is that all?’

The Duke frowned. ‘Why – yes, I suppose. Aren’t you pleased?’

She forced an annoyed breath through her nostrils. ‘I am not, I’m afraid, though it’s through no fault of your own.’ Forcing her tight shoulders to loosen, she pressed her hands into her heavy skirt. ‘Thank you, Your Grace, but I don’t think you should reserve the storefront for me. There was never going to be any bakery, and there certainly isn’t going to be one now. Please forget we ever spoke of it, and . . . go dance with your lady. She’s already spent too many waltzes watching from the sidelines.’

She left before she could feel the full sting of his happiness, but she had not gone far when a hand grabbed her forearm, squeezing so tight Catherine nearly choked. She tried to yank her hand away, but was tugged back against an iron-solid chest. A gruff voice growled into her ear, ‘What’d you do with it?’

Warm breath rolled over her, smelling of pumpkin.