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“All right,” Viola said reluctantly.

“I can’t wait to call you Devin in front of all those duke-hunting young ladies,” Joan told the duke. “Oh, and in case you’re worried, I am not interested in becoming your duchess. I won’t use our apparent intimacy to force you to the altar.”

“I’m grateful to hear it,” he replied, looking supremely unconcerned.

“To go back to our original conversation,” Otis said, “I’ve had some painful conversations with Bishop Pettigrew in the last few months, and can say with fair certainty that he won’t approve of theatrics in the church, whether the plays depict biblical events or no.”

“Miss Pettigrew doesn’t even approve of Christmas pantomimes,” Joan put in.

“For hundreds of years, people in local parishes performed plays depicting biblical events,” Viola protested. “The plays depict the Bible in such a way that young and old can understand. What better way for children to learn?”

“Hundreds of years?” Devin asked, a distinctly skeptical note in his voice.

“They are called mystery plays. All the larger towns such as York had their own cycle of plays. We read some of them at school. The bakers would act the story of Jesus creating loaves of bread, for example.”

“I remember a funny one about Noah’s ark,” Otis put in.

“I would love to play a queen,” Joan cried. “The costumes would be marvelous.”

“Alas, there are few queens in the Bible,” Otis pointed out.

“There’s always Bathsheba,” Joan said mischievously.

Viola winced. She recognized the look in her stepsister’s eyes. From time to time, Joan was prone to a fit of recklessness. At school, it would invariably lead to a scolding for nonladylike behavior, which would only drive Joan to be more provocative.

“Bathsheba, whom King David saw bathing, and fell in love with?” Devin asked.

“I think it would be great fun to put a lady in a bath on stage,” Joan said, her eyes twinkling. “If Viola instructed him to do it, Mr. Marlowe would be out looking for a tin tub right now.”

“I don’t remember a cycle play about Bathsheba,” Otis said, showing no signs of shock at Joan’s suggestion. “Who would have staged it? The watermen?”

“Obviously, the ladies of the evening,” Joan exclaimed, bursting into laughter.

Joan was being provocative for the sake of it, likely because she had been irritated by Miss Pettigrew. She adored private dramatics, and the family all knew that she dreamed of running away and joining a theater troupe.

Not that she would, because it was one thing to address a duke by his first name, and quite another to perform on a public stage. Joan would be ruined.

“There’s a sweet play about the two shepherds who first saw the star,” Viola put in, grateful that Aunt Knowe was out of earshot and didn’t hear Joan talking about ladies of the evening. “A Christmas play would be a marvelous way to draw people into the church.”

Otis grinned. “You’re a revolutionary, Viola. Who could have imagined? You look so demure.”

“What I am suggesting is traditional, and certainly not revolutionary,” Viola said stoutly. “Many children never learn biblical history. Take the play of Noah’s ark, for example. Who could possibly object to that?”

The duke’s dark eyes were smiling, even if his face was as imperturbable as ever. “You might be surprised.”

“A play could be performed for charity,” she argued. “My family would come, and they would bring others. Tickets could be sold at a steep price too, perhaps making enough money to support orphans or do other good works.”

“How will the poor children in need of education afford a ticket?” the duke asked.

“A second performance, the next night,” Viola said, caught up in her vision. “Real animals could join Noah on the stage.”

“One of your pet cows?”

“You have a pet cow?” Otis exclaimed.

“And a crow,” Viola said, nodding. “I brought my crow, Barty, to London, but obviously London is no place for livestock.”

“Not unless they’re on their way to being made into beefsteak,” Otis agreed. “Were I still the vicar, I could have a temporary stage built in St. Wilfrid’s cloister large enough for the dramatic debut of one cow, though perhaps not two.”