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Sylvia suspected that it had far more to do with the earl wanting an excuse to see his wife during the day, but she kept that to herself.

Lady Winman led her to her study, a restrained room painted pale blue, with bookshelves lining one wall. There was a large light-wood desk facing a window trimmed in cream curtains and a pair of armchairs set up in front of an unlit coal fireplace.

“Welcome to my favorite room,” said Lady Winman as Mrs. Teaks followed them in with the tea tray. “I claimed it when I came to live at Winman House. I wanted a place to work.”

“Work?” asked Sylvia as the housekeeper closed the door.

“I gave up editing and magazine work when I married Alistair, but I still write. I’m always working on something. It’s been a novel for about two years now, for my sins,” said Lady Winman as she set about pouring the tea.

“And Lord Winman is supportive of your working?” she asked, taking a cup.

“Yes. Both of us are always happiest when we’re occupied. Now,” said Lady Winman, settling back in her chair, “how are you really feeling?”

“Well,” she said slowly as she stirred her cup of tea, “I’ve just found out that the woman I thought was my closest friend has been having an affair with my husband since at least 1938. I’ve been unceremoniously invited to leave a committee I’ve given more than five years of work to. I believe my entire social circle is about to vanish, and I am currently living above a shop that I own half of, sleeping in my sister’s bed in the room we shared when I was eleven.”

The countess tilted her head to one side. “Then you’ve had better days.”

“Days? Weeks? Months?” Sylvia sighed. “Do you know what the worst part is? I’m upset about Claire and Hugo, but in some ways I’m most disappointed I’m going to have to let down all of the dressmakers.”

“The dressmakers?” asked Lady Winman.

Sylvia quickly explained about Lady Nolan’s unilateral decision to select the fashion show as their next fundraiser and the work that she’d already done to make the arrangements.

“Without the committee, there’s no fashion show,” she finished. “I promised these women the chance to showcase their clothes and hopefully bring everyone more business. But now…”

“I suppose this is the time for me to present my proposal,” said Lady Winman.

“Please do,” she said.

“It’s an evolving plan as I keep learning new things, but the latest iteration is this. How would you feel about putting on the fashion show as a fundraiser without the involvement of the committee?”

She frowned. “I don’t really know how I could.”

“You have the dressmakers,” said Lady Winman. “What else would you need?”

“So many things,” she said.

“Tell me,” said Lady Winman.

“I suppose I would need space,” she started. “Then there are the models—the committee members were supposed to serve that role, if you recall—and refreshments. And, of course, there would be the press invitations. I was also hoping that the committee members might lean on their connections and invite whichever well-dressed friends they had to use their coupons on the designs in the show.

“But how can I possibly do all of that without the committee? It gives the event more weight having a name like the War Widows’ Fund behind you, especially when you’re asking for a hotel to donate the space, a restaurant to give refreshments gratis. That sort of thing.”

“What if I act as sponsor?” asked Lady Winman.

“You?” she asked with surprise.

“You said you needed a name,” said Lady Winman. “The proceeds could still go to the war widows—or you could focus on another charity if you wish—but I imagine it would be helpful to approach a charity with the Countess of Winman behind you.”

Having the backing of a countess with an influential husband… Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt their efforts.

“But where will we have it?” she asked, doubtful even as she warmed to the idea. “I’d hoped to tie the fashion show into the new coupon books coming out, but that was assuming the same hotel the committee always uses would agree to it. The owner is a friend of Lady Nolan’s, so there is a possibility that they will be reluctant to help on such short notice.”

“Have it here,” said Lady Winman.

“Here?” Sylvia asked, looking around.

“Well, not this room, but in Winman House. We have a ballroom that isn’t being used for anything at the moment. It’s a wretched waste of space and, quite frankly, I’m shocked the government hasn’t requisitioned the house yet. It might as well be put to good use.”