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“I should have known it was French. Pleated silk is already out of style, isn’t it? I believe I shall have it. My friend is considering the one with the rose,” Daisy said, beaming at the shopkeeper.

Petunia had put her own bonnet to the side; now she plopped Mrs. Mogbetty’s creation on her head.

“Actually, we shall take our custom elsewhere,” Regina announced in a threatening voice. Her narrow nose rose in the air.

“I do like this bonnet,” Petunia said, ignoring her friend as she tied it firmly under her chin.

“The rose over your ear looks like a cauliflower,” Regina snapped.

“I disagree,” the milliner said with frigid emphasis.

“Do you know who I am?”

“I have no idea,” Mrs. Mogbetty said, “but I can tell that you’re suffering from irritated nerves, and if there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s a young termagant with irritated nerves.”

“Regina is often agitated,” Petunia remarked.

She didn’t seem to notice the threatening glare she received from her friend. Instead, she adjusted the bonnet. “Do you think that perhaps I ought to have two pink roses, one over each ear? Or two over the same ear?”

“Two would overweigh the straw,” Mrs. Mogbetty said, coming over to adjust the headpiece.

“In all good conscience, I could not give my custom to a store that offers nurture and comfort to traitors to the Crown,” Regina proclaimed. “And neither should you, Petunia. Your mother would be horrified.”

Mrs. Mogbetty’s eyebrows flew up.

“My father has been wrongfully accused of treason,” Livie explained. “He’s supposed to have done something nefarious in France, but he’s innocent. He wasn’t even in the same place as the plotters.”

Regina sniffed. “The mastermind of a fiendish plot would never remain in its vicinity.”

“My father is no criminal mastermind!” Livie cried. “He is a war hero!”

“My father was a member of the aristocracy, very close to the royal family,” Regina retorted. “Your father is accused of plotting to overthrow the king.” She shuddered. “I feel this very store is tainted.”

“Coppers are prone to errors,” the milliner said. “I can tell you stories from my own family.”

Petunia was still paying no attention; she was twisting to the left and right, looking at herself in the glass. “This bonnet is very flattering.”

“I cannot believe that you would consider purchasing something from this horrendously vulgar person,” Regina said with acid emphasis.

Livie recognized the signs of a woman losing her composure; Daisy had better control these days, but when they were girls, her temper often led to objects flying around the room. She elbowed her cousin. “Good thing there’s no teacup within her reach,” she whispered.

“I only did that once,” Daisy protested, sotto voce. “I don’t look that unattractive when I’m in a temper, do I?”

Their gibes were far from subtle, and Regina’s mouth clenched into an even less attractive look.

“No, darling Daisy, you don’t look at all unattractive in a temper, but I’m afraid not everyone is as lucky as you are,” Livie said. She deliberately glanced at Regina’s mouth and then away.

Which was mean.

But somehow she didn’t feel an ounce of regret.

Her father was innocent.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MRS. MOGBETTY’S RULES FOR HATS & BIRDHOUSES

Petunia untied the hat and drifted to the store counter, taking out her reticule. “I wish you could be calmer, Regina,” she said over her shoulder. “You are likely to come down with a sick headache after expressing so much emotion.”