Perhaps it was the fact that she was so strong-willed that the universe bent to her wishes (she sure liked to believe it did), or perhaps it was mere chance after all, but the Marquess stepped out that very moment. She had seen him before from a distance when she was out riding with her brother and he had pointed him out. But up close the lord looked even more dashing and handsome. Cathy was relieved. It was a terrible pity when a bachelor with a rank was ugly. She'd still marry him, given the chance, rather than marry a handsome man with no money or title to his name. She was no fool. But it did seem like a terrible waste of a rank.

"Sarah," Catherine hissed. The maid turned and could not hide her dismay when she spotted the target, but luckily her mistress had her eyes fixed on him and didn't notice.

Cathy crossed the street hurriedly, made sure to pass in front of the lord, and let her purse slip from her hand just as she was in his path. Because she had 'forgotten' to seal it properly, its carefully selected contents spilt out on the ground: a smaller purse heavy with coin (for he should know her papa was rich), a pocket of rose-patterned calling cards which scattered around (for he should know she was an Ennington), a leaflet for some charity for orphans she was involved in (for charitable work was so very feminine), and a bottle of smelling salts (for a delicate health and tendency to faint was the pinnacle of femininity!).

"Oh!" she cried helplessly, as if a dropped purse was a most dreadful challenge which a delicate young lady could not overcome on her own.

Sarah stayed where her mistress had ordered her to stay and cringed.