Comte caresses your head gently, his voice soft and affectionate. "Ah, my Cherie is a year older now," he says, planting a tender kiss. "I fear I may not have purchased enough gifts for you."

The entire parlour room is overflowing with boxes and parcels, presents for you stacked in every direction. The ground is barely visible under the mountain of gifts.

Comte smiles thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've bought tickets for Will's play tonight. Perhaps you can wear one of the new gowns I picked out for you. Or do you have another idea?"