Chapter Eight
To Gussie’s mild horror, she later found Clarissa Selwyn cosied up in the library with Miss Frostell.
The two had a dragon-sized bowl of custard between them. They had pulled two of Lord Maundevyle’s better armchairs up to the fire — only two feet separated them from a fiery doom — and sat happily with spoons in hand, taking mouthfuls of the creamy stuff and gossiping.
Gussie knew them to be gossiping when their conversation ceased abruptly the moment she entered the room.
In Miss Frostell’s eye she detected traces of guilt.
‘My dear!’ said that lady, upon beholding her erstwhile protégé. ‘You must be perished with cold! Here, have my seat.’ She bustled out of the chair in question as she spoke, relinquishing the bowl into Miss Selwyn’s sole care.
‘Now I know you to be
