Bunny settled Pikoo on a nest of blankets and ran her hand over his soft pelt. "I'm sorry, Pikoo, but you must stay here. I promise I'll be back soon."

With a squeak, the mongoose rolled, chasing its own tail. Bunny laughed, then got up and closed the door behind her. She fastened the green ribbons of her cloak under her chin and went downstairs. Two slumbering dogs lay in her path and she stepped over them. Anju followed her along the hallway, arms raised for balance. Like crossing the living floor of a forest, the journey to the front door was full of obstacles. The shaggy-haired breed lifted its head and huffed air through its lips.

"Uncle Appleby, we're going out," called Bunny.

From the sitting-room, his voice rang like a gong. "Stop."

She reached the room and peered around the splintered, brown-stained frame. The air smelled thick with brandy and dog.

Appleby leaned over the side of his chair, reaching for his walking stick. "You're not going anywhere, girl, not after last night's trouble."

"But I must retrieve my belongings. They were in the carriage with Mr Carte."

He snatched his cane and aimed the tip at her, his voice rising an octave. "No, no, no. You're not to go there. Leave the matter to the police."

"But that could take days. It is daylight now, and Anju will be with me. Really, Uncle, no harm will come to us, I'm confident. And besides, we'd like to explore town."

"You don't listen, do you?" he spluttered. "You're not ready to be out there in society."

"It can't be as perilous as the jungle."

"This isn't the jungle, it's worse – it's London." With a flash of temper, he struck the cane on the floor.

To everyone's surprise, the end of the stick snapped and spun through the air. The broken piece of cane fell to the rug, and for a moment they all stared at the spot where it landed. A grandfather clock ticked, filling the silence. Then Bunny took Anju by the elbow and steered her out of the house.

"He's mad," she said when they were outside the house. "Utterly mad."

They hurried up the garden path and opened the screeching gate. Barks rose behind them, snouts and paws pressing against the window. Appleby's shrill commands were wasted on the disobedient pets.

"I'm so sorry I brought you here, Anju. I promise I will write to Papa and get us out of this awful place. Oh, my. You must be so cold."

Anju glanced at her own thinly covered shoulders. "I lost my dupatta."

"Well, that's another reason to get our luggage back today. Here, wear my cloak."

She protested, waving her hands. "No, no, Bunny. I can cope, really. Listen, are you sure this is a good idea? We don't know our way around. How will we find this Orson Carte?"

Bunny pulled a rolled up paper booklet from her cloak pocket and showed her. "The Post Office Directory."

"Where did you get that?"

"Uncle had a copy." She pointed at the cover. "It contains names and residential addresses. I've already found Mr Carte."

"Really?" Anju's eyebrows rose at the prospect of recovering their belongings. In the end, she gave a resigned sigh. "Very well, then, let's go."

They travelled on foot until the suburban streets merged with London's busy West end. At a cab-stand, Bunny asked the driver of a hansom cab to take them to the Carte residence. Soon, they were on route, and passed through a noisy market. Anju watched the town with interest, but Bunny had no true wish to see the dirty city. She huddled in the corner, planning a telegram to her father.

When the carriage reached Hans Place, she froze at the sight of Mr Carte's house. An imposing red-brick building with five floors loomed over the road. This part of town was nothing like her uncle's neighbourhood. Composing herself, she paid the driver and led Anju to the front steps. Decorative roman columns abutted the front door. Surely only the rich and influential could afford to live here? Determined to reclaim her luggage, she rapped the brass door knocker.

A butler in crisp, black livery opened the door. "May I help you?"

"I'd like to see Mr Orson Carte please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

Her brow wrinkled. "No."

"I'm afraid Mr Carte is not taking callers today."

She exhaled. "Listen, I travelled to England with Mr Carte, and he has my luggage. I've come here for my belongings. Please tell him I'm here."

The butler inspected her with a strict eye, then asked her to wait. He closed the door, and she stayed on the front step, wrapping her arms around herself. Anju glanced skyward when damp snowflakes fluttered past her nose. At length, the butler returned.

"Mr Carte does not have your luggage. I'm afraid you will have to seek it elsewhere."

Bunny's eyes grew large. "What do you mean he doesn't have it? He'd better come and tell me where my trunk is."

The butler straightened to his full height. "You have your answer. Good day to you."

Not willing to be turned away, she shoved her shoulder against the glossy black door. "Oh, no you don't. Carte! Mr Carte! Where is my luggage? Come here and speak with me right now. Why are you hiding in there? Afraid to face the girls you abandoned?"

Anju sucked air through her teeth and pulled Bunny's arm. "No, no, Bunny. No trouble, please."

"It's too late for that," she replied. "Carte!"

Anju let her go, and groaned. "Arey baba. Not again."

With a harsh whisper, the butler shot them a warning. "I will send for the police if you don't leave this instant."

"Yes, send for the police. Please do. I'm not leaving without my belongings. Mr Carte!"

Passersby stopped to watch, and a crowd formed on the paved footway. Ladies and gentlemen exchanged whispers behind gloved hands. Then Carte appeared at the door and shooed his butler away. His eyes darted over the audience gathered outside his house and the lump in his throat bobbed. He forced a smile and laughed.

"There's no need to shout, Miss Spencer," he said through a gritted smile. "Keep your voice down or I'll see you arrested."

Satisfied that she had his attention, she lowered her tone. "You're the one who should be arrested. Where are my things?"

The onlookers moved along, sensing an end to the entertainment.

Carte's false smile vanished. "As my butler told you, I don't have your luggage."

"Then where is it? My trunk was in the carriage you took."

"You can't expect me to have noticed a measly trunk. I had more pressing matters on my mind."

"Oh, yes, like running away to save your own skin."

"I was drawing that rabid dog away. And this is the thanks I get for selflessly risking my life?"

Bunny stared at him, stunned. "Drawing it away? Mr Carte, we both know that's a big lie."

He drew a sharp breath, his nose wrinkling. "How dare you? I won't stand here and be called a liar. The carriage is gone as is your luggage. Goodbye."

He thrust the door towards her face, but a hand shot out and collided with the wood. Startled by the impact, she cast her gaze upon the owner of the sturdy fingertips.

A cherubic face dimpled, clear and handsome in the daylight. "Hello again, Miss Spencer."

It's him, she realised. The young man from the balloon. The monster hunter. But where were the goggles, guns, and blood-splashed duster? An overcoat in dove grey wool hung open, revealing no belt of pistols. Instead, she found a snug waistcoat and dusky red cravat tied in a careless knot. And the pencil and notebook in his hand suggested he was here on business.

She remembered her voice. "Uh, hello."

His smile quirked before he looked to the gap in the door. "Mr Carte, I presume?"

"Do I know you, sir?" he snapped.

"It's possible. Jim Penderry of Penderry's Bizarre Magazine." He coaxed the door open and slipped a card into Carte's breast pocket.

"A journalist? Lord, no. What do you want?"

"Well, I have a few questions. But I can wait my turn. Miss Spencer was here first."

"Miss Spencer was just leaving."

Bunny dragged her eyes from Jim. "I told you, I'm not leaving without my belongings. Where is the carriage?"

"And I told you, it's gone."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I left it in the street."

"How could you do that?"

A flush rose to Carte's face, and he balled his fists. "Miss Spencer, I have nothing more to say. It is regrettable that your luggage is gone, but that's not my fault."

"I hold you accountable. We almost died because of you."

"Enough! Had I known you were one of those awful Britons raised in India, I would never have got in a carriage with you."

She gasped and set her hands on her waist.

"Oh, yes," said Carte. "I've heard all about your sort, the wild children of the British Raj, raised by the servants while your parents turn a blind eye to your indiscretions. A respectable lady doesn't carry a gun, or keep a bloodthirsty mongoose as a pet, or harass a gentleman at his door. You'd do well to remember it."

At the mention of her parents, her boldness sank. "You don't know my life, sir."

"I've seen enough, Miss Spencer. Enough to know you don't belong in civilised society."

His words stung like a slap to the cheek, and Bunny's face flooded with the colour of humiliation. Was this truly how all Londoners felt about children raised abroad? Would she be judged at every corner, shunned at every turn for her upbringing? She backed away and found Anju's elbow.

"Please, let's just go," whispered Anju.

"My turn?" asked Jim. He passed an enquiring look between them, then poised a pencil over his notebook.

Carte shot him a glance. "What? Who did you say you are?"

Jim tapped the end of his pencil on Carte's pocket. "It's all on the card. Think of me as a concerned member of society. After last night's disturbance, I'd like to ensure nobody gets hurt again. Although, I'm not sure you're worth the effort, Mr Carte."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Were you born a coward with a knack for insulting people, or is it a skill you perfected over time?"

"What did you say?"

Bunny's attention whipped to Jim.

His jaw firmed, and all traces of friendliness fled his tone. "I said you're a bully and a coward. Now, apologise to the young ladies."

Outraged, Carte tried to close the door, but Jim braced it open once more.

"Miss Spencer," Carte spat. "Call off this brute or I'll send for the police to remove you both."

Jim didn't falter. "We'll go, after you apologise."

"I shall not apologise to that savage girl."

Bunny reached and touched Jim's sleeve. "It's all right. We don't care for his apology."

He met her eyes, his forehead crinkling. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Very well." He dropped his hand to his side.

Free to wield the door, Carte said, "If you print one word about last night's events, you'll regret it."

Shiny black panelling slammed home, tossing snowflakes in their faces.

Jim opened his coat and tucked the notebook in an inside pocket. "Well, he's flaming adorable."

They descended the steps to the street and Bunny's humiliation quickly turned to anger. She didn't care how important Carte fancied himself, or how rich he was, he had no right to speak to people that way.

He's the uncivillised one!

"Are you both all right?" asked Jim.

Bunny balled her fists. "If I ever see that good-for-nothing scoundrel again I'll-"

Jim's eyebrows migrated to his hairline, making her hesitate. Perhaps the wild image Carte painted of her wasn't far from the truth.

She stopped on the paved street, regretting her outburst. "Pardon me, Mr Penderry. I'm sorry you had to witness all that."

"No, no. Don't apologise. The man's a pompous fool."

Across the road, a driver with a black patch over one eye waited with a carriage. A dark-haired young man stood by the vehicle and tucked a newspaper under his arm.

Jim noticed and turned to Bunny. "That's my colleague, Freddie Westman. He's expecting me to tell him I've arranged an interview with Carte. I fear he's in for a disappointment." His expression softened. "By the way, I hope you don't take Carte's words to heart. Not everyone shares his small-minded sentiments, I assure you."

She relaxed, believing him, and glanced at Anju. "He caught me off guard, that's all. But we won't dwell on his claptrap."

"That's the spirit." Jim smiled and leaned to the side, addressing Anju behind her. "Hello."

Anju blinked and pressed her palms together in greeting. "Hello, sahib."

"Oh," said Bunny, "This is Anju, my companion since childhood."

"Well, Anju, you look like you could do with this back." Like a magician, he drew a length of orange material from his pocket and offered it to her.

"My dupatta!" She bundled the shawl to her chest.

Bunny exchanged looks with her and laughed. "Oh, my. What will you do for your next trick, Mr Penderry, pull a rabbit out of your hat?"

He chuckled. "Alas, I'm fresh out of rabbits. I would like to ask you both a few questions, though, for the magazine."

"You mean you'll still print the story, even after Mr Carte's threat?"

"Of course. I'm not worried about him. What do you say we meet for lunch in Plunkett's at two o'clock? It's not far. Jermyn Street in Westminster. I have a few errands to run first."

"Lunch?"

The suggestion triggered a low tremor in her stomach. They hadn't eaten a crumb since yesterday, and the thought of food teased her taste buds. But wouldn't Uncle Appleby be worried if they were gone too long? And Pikoo didn't like being confined to a room. He'd made a big fuss on the sea voyage, scratching and biting the cabin door. But if she dined out, she could bring him back some food.

In the end, she nodded. "Very well. We'll be there."

"Jolly good." He smiled and bid them good day before crossing the road.

In that moment, everything about Jim Penderry seemed a fascinating spectacle. The way his fair curls stirred in the breeze, the beat of his fashionable coat behind him, and the confidence in his stride. Like her father's regiment back in the state of Chagra, he possessed the courage to stand up to bullies. And he was the first person in the country to offer her a smile and a kind word. If they were to stay in England for a while, she wouldn't be sorry to see more of him.