Harriet Sanderson has built something remarkable. As housekeeper to the Duke of Bridport at Buntisford Hall, she's carved out respect in a world that rarely notices young women from modest backgrounds. But Victorian society is a stage, and every exit and entrance carries weight. When illness forces her to recuperate at her sister Eliza's, Harriet finds brief refuge from the expectations that usually bind her. Then enters Dugald Maclean, a young constable with poet's eyes and romantic ambitions he can't quite conceal. His clumsy courtship, delivered through terribly earnest verses, sets the stage for exactly the kind of scandalous attention Harriet doesn't need. What unfolds is a tender comedy of manners: a woman of sharp ambition navigating rigid class structures, a charmingly persistent suitor who may be more than he appears, and the invisible labor of surviving in a world that values women for their position, never their minds. Snaith writes with warmth and wit about what it costs to dream beyond your station, and whether love can survive the calculations class demands.
