How to Fake It in Society

Titus strolled back towards Carey Street with the Comte in comfortable silence.

It had been a wonderful day. He would never have dared enter Hoby’s or Lloyd’s with his stained hands and shabby clothes and inexperience: at most he would have gone to shops of the second or third rank.

Instead the Comte’s confidence had swept him into the best places on a tide of respect and attention that had been deeply enjoyable, even if it was purchased.

A delightful day, at least from the moment the Comte arrived. The Ormskirks had been dreadful, and Titus’s own response even worse. He was still kicking himself.