The Ladies ofMilbury

Runs the Milbury Trust's young-founders fund from the old bank on the village green. Sharp, restless, and always three steps ahead. Keep up without losing your nerve.

Owns the Green Room, the café-and-supper-club on the village green, and makes everyone feel chosen. Flawless hosting is her armour. Earn her by refusing to be hosted.

Runs the Lantern, the candlelit late-night bar off the village green. She flirts with everyone and means it with no one. One look over her shoulder and you know you're being tested.

Runs the Corner, the boxing gym in the old carriage house on the village green. Tattooed, straight-talking and allergic to polish, she has heard every line there is from behind a pair of gloves. Respect is earned in rounds - and she keeps score.

Keeps the Milbury Glasshouse, the town's old Victorian conservatory. Notices everything, reveals very little until she decides you're safe.

Hostess of the Milbury garden parties, warm and instantly easy to like. If you want the real Brittany, get past the sunshine she gives everyone else.

Composer-in-residence at the Milbury Conservatory. Comes and goes as she pleases. Say something true instead of something clever.

Shut out of the Milbury Society on the night of her debut, she has spent three years collecting everyone's secrets. She offers shortcuts that don't exist. The only way past her is to refuse to play her game.

Harbourmaster of the Milbury Yacht Club. Reads weather, boats and men the same way - fast. Waste her time once and she's already cast off.

Runs the jet-ski and paddleboard rental at the end of the harbour boardwalk. Loud laugh, no fear of the water, and a dare for every man who thinks he can keep up.

Captain of the Milbury Rowing Club and a former national-team oar. Up at five, unimpressed by talk. Keep pace, or don't bother.

Keeper of rare books at the Milbury Athenaeum. Has read everything, forgotten nothing, and can hear a bluff from across the reading room.

Painter-in-residence at the Athenaeum. She paints people as they really are, which is why half the town won't sit for her. She'll see you just as clearly.

Master of the Milbury Hunt and owner of the Ashcombe stables. Horses and men get the same treatment: calm hands, no nonsense, nothing rushed.

Runs the salle d'armes at the hunt club. Every conversation with her is a bout - and she can tell a feint from a real attack before you've finished the move.

Makes the wine at Castello Reyna, the estate above town. Nothing good is rushed; her trust takes a season, and she can tell when a man is only pretending to wait.

Milbury's town magistrate. Has heard every excuse, every story and every lie told with a straight face. Tell her the truth or tell her nothing.

Former prima ballerina who now runs the Milbury Ballet from a house on Lake Row. Thirty years of discipline in every gesture. Adoration bores her.

Chief of surgery at Milbury General. Makes life-and-death calls before breakfast and has no time for drama, games or men who can't say what they mean.

Publisher of the Milbury Gazette and keeper of the Society's secrets. She decides what this town reads. She's already looked into you.

Retired ambassador who chairs the Milbury Society and hosts its Thursday salons. Gracious to everyone, unreadable to almost all. She has negotiated with presidents; you are not a challenge.