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“I thought they both looked charming last night,” Lady Knowe said, “but I didn’t realize you meant to clothe them in white for the entire Season.”

“Wildes set trends, we don’t follow them,” Lavinia said. “Our ball opened the Season. When Lavinia and Viola came down the stairs dressed in white, it changed the entire conversation. They’ll wear pale tints for the Season, and I am expecting that by next year white will be de rigueur for a debut.”

Viola knew exactly what she meant. A ballroom full of people speculating about Joan’s and Viola’s claims to being members of the Wilde family were being handed another subject of conversation. Rather than discussing the whole not-Wilde business, they could talk about fashion instead.

“You are brilliant, darling,” Lady Knowe said, dropping a kiss on Lavinia’s cheek.

“Everyone will be talking about you as well,” Lavinia promised Aunt Knowe. “The color of this green lace has never been seen before. The clever man who creates our dyes made it from crushed beetles.”

Lady Knowe groaned.

“That’s horrible,” Viola exclaimed. “Those poor beetles!”

Joan pointed at Lavinia. “You’ve done it now. She’ll probably set up a beetle sanctuary outside the cowshed.”

“Almost every dye comes from vegetables and weeds,” Lavinia said. “I can’t say that I feel true sadness for the beetles.”

“I would wear the beetle lace,” Joan said grumpily. “As it is, I’m going to spend all Season looking as if I’m being christened. I’d like to wear something that makes me stand out in the crowd. Scarlet, for example.”

Viola rolled her eyes. “You always stand out in a crowd, Joan.”

“You think you don’t,” Joan said, “but you certainly made an impression on the Duke of Wynter last night. The only thing he wanted to talk about during our dance was you! And if you’ll forgive me, Viola, generally speaking, gentlemen at least ask me a polite question or two about myself.”

“He isn’t interested in me that way,” Viola said quickly. “I overheard him tell Sir Reginald that he thought the ball was meant for the duke’s real daughter and I was only included for practical reasons.”

“Despicable!” Joan exclaimed.

“When he first arrived at the ball, he didn’t even bother to be introduced, or to ask me to dance, because he is determined to marry a duke’s daughter. A real one like you, Joan.”

Lady Knowe narrowed her eyes. “Oh, he did, did he? My brother will disabuse him of that notion. You’re not to dance with him again, Joan.”

“His name is dead to me,” Joan said. “I wouldn’t have, anyway. I don’t think he is handsome at all.”

Viola didn’t agree. The duke was not conventionally handsome but there was something very compelling about him. She was wrestling with a new twinge of guilt: After all, once they met, the duke had repeatedly asked her to dance with him.

“I think he’s attractive,” Lavinia said. “He’s an acquaintance of Parth’s, and I’ve met him a few times.” She twinkled at Joan. “All that brooding masculinity.”

“More importantly, Viola, what did you say to him in response?” Joan asked.

“How could she say anything, if she overheard the comment?” Lavinia asked, before Viola could answer. “Parth won’t be pleased to hear of Wynter’s comment. For obvious reasons, he abhors people who question whether His Grace is a true parent to all his children.”

“I shared a nursery with Viola for years,” Joan replied, grinning. “She doesn’t need Parth to defend her, do you, V? May I remind all of you that the Duke of Wynter couldn’t stop asking questions about Viola throughout our entire dance?”

“In fact, I was wondering if perhaps I’d been unkind,” Viola confessed.

Joan laughed. “Out with it!” she demanded. “What did you say to him? Where were you when you overheard him making a fool of himself? Obviously, you tamed him within moments.”

“I said that he was impolite, and I implied that he was too old to marry.”

Lady Knowe nodded. “Wynter is not old, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“I asked Mr. Marlowe to pray for the duke’s chances of matrimony,” Viola said, uncomfortably. “I might have implied that His Grace was lacking courage and experiencing delusions. It’s all a bit fuzzy in my mind because I was very cross, but I know that I told him his title was no justification for his opinion of himself.”

Lavinia broke out laughing. “Oh, I wish I’d overheard the conversation!”

“I’m very sensitive about being a Wilde,” Viola said, “but I am trying to be a better, kinder person.”

By the time everybody in the room stopped screeching with laughter, Viola was feeling distinctly annoyed.