A fire was crackling merrily in the hearth, and Judith was bouncing Elizabeth on her knee. The child was making happy, gurgling noises and waving her little palms at her mother.

Vivian watched intently, like a hawk, as Adéle, the governess, poured out some tea to serve.

As Adéle sat down, Vivian mulled over how this had all come to be.

Judith’s family had been cruel and cold when they found out about Elizabeth; Judith’s mother would not accept her into her chambers, nor talk to her.

Judith’s father disowned her and she was cast from the family, now an untouchable in their socialite world.

She had arrived on Vivian’s doorstep, bedraggled and soaked to the bone, carrying little Elizabeth like a gift from the Orient beyond.

And from then on, things had taken a life of their own; Vivian was out most of the day, running errands that stretched far into London.

Judith had no experience whatsoever as a mother, and needed aid in raising her child.

That had been where Adéle came in.

How complicated…