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“Your son kindly invited me.”

“I know,” said the lady, her voice cold. “I thought it was quite extraordinary when he asked for an invitation to be sent to Victoria Street. I was so surprised, I checked with him that he hadn’t meant for me to send one of your dressmaking bills on. He assured me it was no mistake.”

“I’m so glad,” said Lavinia.

Mrs. Wark walked over to a gold metal cart on which sat a decanter filled with whiskey and a few glasses. She removed the crystal stopper and lifted the vessel before pouring out a measure. Glancing over her shoulder at Lavinia, the woman asked, “Will you join me?”

She nodded.

“I don’t make a habit of drinking whiskey in front of my son,” said Mrs. Wark as she poured. “He doesn’t approve of a woman drinking spirits—even a Scotswoman.”

“If his opinion matters so much, then why do it?” she asked when Mrs. Wark handed the glass to her.

“Because sometimes it’s easier to give a man his way rather than argue with him. Tonight, for instance,” said Mrs. Wark as she poured another measure. “It was easier to agree with Harold and invite you here rather than try to defy him. Do you know why?”

“No,” she said, taking a burning sip.

Mrs. Wark threw back her whiskey in one gulp. “Because men are rather like children with toys. If you want them to stop playing, you can’t take the toy away from them. That only makes them want it more. But let them play as long as they wish, and they’ll soon discard it for something newer.”

The slight was clear as could be, but rather than anger a cool calm fell over Lavinia. “Mrs. Wark, it was not my intention to insult you by coming here tonight, but I can see that you have every intention of insulting me. I would caution you against such a rash action.”

“Rash?” Mrs. Wark laughed. “You’re just a trumped-up dressmaker and you wish to caution me?”

Lavinia set her whiskey down carefully on a sideboard. “I may just be a dressmaker, but I seem to have your son’s ear. It may only be for a moment but that is long enough.”

“You think you could divide my son and me?” the woman asked.

She shrugged. “Perhaps I could, perhaps I could not. Is that really a question you want to test?”

“Harold is devoted to me, and my good opinion matters. While he may be diverted by you for a time, he would never stoop so low as to form any kind of understanding with a woman such as yourself. He has higher standards than that.”

As though paying Lavinia attention was equivalent to slumming. The gall of the woman.

“If that’s the case, why invite me to this dinner to meet his associates?” she asked.

Mrs. Wark sniffed. “Clearly you preyed on my son’s goodwill and wheedled your way into an invitation.”

“At one time his intention may have been for a mere bit of fun, but recently he’s been hinting at a more long-term arrangement without any encouragement from me. If I were to show some modicum of interest, I have no doubt I could be Mrs. Wark in the space of mere months.”

Lavinia had no idea if there was any truth behind the lie, but it was enough.

“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t,” said Mrs. Wark, her horror clear on her face.

Lavinia shrugged again. “Who knows what I would do? As you so astutely pointed out, I’m just a trumped-up dressmaker. Now, I believe we’re being missed at your dinner table.”

When she was at her hostess’s shoulder, Lavinia stopped as though a thought had just struck her. “Oh, and Mrs. Wark, if you threaten me again, not only can I promise you that every dress you have on order including your ball gown will suffer from a set of unfortunate delays, but no dressmaker in Edinburgh will outfit you again. I would be surprised if your son allowed you to continue your current volume of buying if you had to travel to London for your gowns. Shall we join the gentlemen?”

It was a petty threat, but an effective one, for Mrs. Wark blanched and then silently followed her.

Lavinia had her first victory of the night.

Chapter Eleven

BETWEEN THE SOUP and fish courses, Lavinia struck on a plan. It wasn’t a very good one, but it was a plan nonetheless, and she’d take inspiration as it came. The conversation at the table centered mostly around the rising price of coal and the difficulties the three mill owners present—Wark, Parris, and Rothesman—were having with a group of reformers who dared to suggest that their workers might be healthier if they had a shortened working day. Douglas joined in from time to time, but he spent most of the dinner making quiet asides to Mrs. Wark. No one seemed to expect Lavinia to contribute much. Normally this might’ve bothered her, but that left her to do what she suspected Andrew would’ve done if he was in her situation and play out various scenarios in her head, trying to predict the outcomes should they arise. Really, though, what she needed was decent timing and the reliability of human behavior to make this plan work.

After a pair of footmen cleared the mutton away, nearly crashing into one another as they worked, Mrs. Wark instructed that the next course, pheasant, be brought in. Lavinia drew in a deep breath. This was her best chance, while there were still enough courses to come that the dinner would continue on for some time. If she was going to act, it was going to have to be now.

She reached for her wineglass and took a sip. Then, making her hand tremble, she struggled to set it back on the table. Douglas noticed immediately.