It was Tristan who opened the door. He had sent Pippa up already with tea and biscuits. It wasn't fancy, but then, neither was Pippa's last clean dress, and neither was the drawing room, which hadn't been dusted in a few days, nor his collar, which had a coal smudge on it from cleaning and lighting the fireplace the drawing room just now. Unfortunately, he was quite unaware of the latter.

"Miss Zimmermann, welcome," he greeted. But it wasn't her female companion she had brought, and although Tristan was glad not to welcome her, the presence gentleman, Mr. Zimmermann no doubt, made him more anxious than he already was. Their world and his had no business mingling. Was there etiquette at all to govern hosting ones social superior, when the visit was forced by necessity and formal acquaintance to be avoided? He didn't dare extend a hand but bowed his head to the gentleman - "Welcome, sir." - and decided to leave the decision of an introduction to Miss Zimmermann or the gentleman.

He stepped aside and opened the door wider. "May I take your hat and coats?" The absence of a maid to perform these duties only increased their social disparity. How had he gotten himself into this mess?