Standing amid a bedraggled group of nearly naked Indians, Lady Tess Collier was aware she didn’t look much like a lady. She didn’t need the peculiar glances of the genteel European residents of Para to tell her that after a six-month odyssey down the Amazon she presented a most unprepossessing figure. Skirt torn and heavy with water and sand from landing the pirogues on the beach; hair unkempt and trailing down from the knot at her neck; fingernails blunted or broken by the efforts of unloading her precious collection of plants and animals—no, she didn’t look much like the only daughter of the Earl of Morrow.