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“It won’t matter,” Roz replied. “There won’t be anyone to notice.”

Cordelia felt obliged to point out that Lady Frome would notice. “It’s her notice that will help you in London.”

Viola sat up from her slump. The dog lifted his head. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

“What?” Roz asked.

“A coach is coming.” Viola jumped up and hurried to the window, leaning over the piano to see the road. The dog went to the door. “Three coaches,” Viola announced. “Come look, all of you. It’s quite a spectacle. There must be a half dozen trunks tied to each one. Who could it be? Do you think it’s Lord Graymont’s sister?”

“Most likely,” said Cordelia.

“Let’s go to greet her,” Viola suggested.

“Don’t be a goose,” said Roz. “That’s not our place.”

“Yes, it is,” Viola insisted. “It’s always polite for the established families in the neighborhood to greet the newcomers or visitors.”

“You’re a regular etiquette book, aren’t you?” Roz said.

“Viola,” said Cordelia. “We will call upon them tomorrow to deliver our invitation. For today, why don’t you take Hector into the woods and watch their arrival? Try not to be seen and report back later.”

Viola jumped up and snapped her fingers at the dog. “Come, Hector,” she said. In a swish of skirts, she was out the door, the dog right behind her, their footsteps echoing in the entry until the door slammed shut.

Miranda sighed and continued pinning the hem she was adjusting. “She was going to go, anyway, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Cordelia agreed.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t make a spectacle of herself,” Roz turned on the stool as Mir worked. The gown really was lovely, and Cordelia began to hope that her sisters would truly enjoy their ball.

As Mir made a last run of small, neat stitches, she asked, “If you aren’t to dance with Lord Graymont, Cordelia, with whom will you dance?”

Before Cordelia could answer, Viola burst back into the drawing room with a muddied hem and no dog.

“It is his sister, and his brother too,” she reported.

“They didn’t see you, did they?” Roz asked.

Viola shook her head and plopped into a chair. “Wait ’til you hear how grand they are!”

“Where’s Hector?” Cordelia wanted to know.

“He’s muddy, so I left him outside. I counted three coachmen, two footmen, two maids, and a valet. There were thirteen trunks and a chair.”

Cordelia laughed, and they turned to her. “Lady Sydling must know that we sold our furniture at auction. Did Lord Graymont greet them?”

“No!” said Viola. “Poor Winter did.”

“Mr. Winter,” Cordelia said.

“Poor Winter?” asked Mir.

“Lady Sydling did not look pleased, and I’ve never seen such wide skirts. I don’t think she liked the look of Delamere. She was full of orders. Mr. Winter had to enlist Higson’s men to carry everything inside. Where do you think Lord Graymont means to put them? There aren’t any beds left, are there?”

Cordelia looked down to hide a smile. No doubt Graymont was enjoying his sister’s discomfort.

“Viola, what do you care? We certainly don’t,” said Roz.

“Well, you might when you see the brother, Roz. He’s very handsome. He’s an ‘honorable,’ isn’t he, Cordelia?”