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“Won’t the earl object?” she asked.

Lady Winman smiled. “The earl would be more offended if I didn’t offer up the house for the good of war widows or whichever worthy cause we think suits. You and I can split the responsibility of running the show. I’ll take on the press, promotion, and sale of tickets. You can take care of all the dressmakers and models. We’ll be co-chairwomen. What do you say?”

Sylvia blinked a couple of times. “Are you certain? I wouldn’t want you to lose your friendship with Lady Nolan.”

Lady Winman laughed. “Friendship? The only reason Lady Nolan invited me onto the committee is because her husband was trying to place himself in Alistair’s good graces for a business deal that never went anywhere. Then Lady Nolan found herself stuck with me, much to her chagrin. Trust me, Mrs. Pearsall, I would much rather be in business with someone whose company I enjoy than with Lady Nolan.”

Sylvia flushed a little and said, “Well, if you’re certain.”

“If you still have your notes, we can take a look at them this afternoon,” said the countess.

She had to suppress a smile. “Oh, I still have them. I refused to hand them over to Lady Nolan even after she asked for them. Why should she benefit from my hard work?”

That earned her another grin. “Mrs. Pearsall, I suspect that you and I are going to be great friends.”

27 May 1942

Dear Sylvia,

I need your advice on a matter that requires a level head, and as much as I value the friendships of my balloon girls, I don’t trust them not to become so excited for me that they fail to think clearly about my question.

There is a man here in Norfolk who I suppose you might say has begun courting me. (How old-fashioned that sounds!) His name is Staff Sergeant Jack Perry, and he is one of a small number of American GIs stationed at one of the RAF bases near Norwich. He is kind and sweet, and I think that there is a real affection developing between the two of us.

He has asked me to go away with him. You might be shocked by this, but it is far more common during this war than you might think, especially for those of us in the services. He has promised me that he will be a perfect gentleman.

Should I go?

If I do, it will be on only twenty-four hours’ leave. I had thought to use anything longer to go up to London. I know that, given my last trip home, you might bristle at this idea, but I promise it is only because I miss the shop and not because I don’t trust that you are doing your very best to run it.

I know that I had my hesitations in the beginning, but since meeting Jack I’ve come to understand that there are things that you can bring to the shop that I never could. (He found himself in a similar situation with his brother back in Iowa after his father died.) You have the head for business that both Mum and I never did, and I appreciate everything that you are trying to do to bring in business. I really do.

I also want to come to London so that I may see you. I realize now that I risked angering you in my last letter by saying that I never liked Hugo because you were undecided on what to do about your marriage. Know that whether you decide to stay married to him or divorce him, you are my sister.

Yours,

Izzie

P.S. I’ve included another batch of sketches for you in this packet. I will turn my mind to autumn, but you might look to my old sketchbook I left behind. I seem to recall that I had an idea for a collection of woolen dresses last year that might suit.

29 May 1942

Dear Izzie,

Will you be shocked if I say that I am delighted you’ve asked me for advice? I wish you were here, sharing a cup of tea or a glass of wine so that I could ask you all manner of questions about this Staff Sergeant Jack Perry from Iowa. However, I will suppress all my nosy questions until the next time that I see you in London.

Instead, I will ask you two things: do you trust him, and will going away with him make you happy?

If you can say yes to both of these questions, I think you have your answer already. Your own happiness is worth taking risks for.

I suppose I owe you my own bit of news, because a great deal has happened since I last wrote. (Will there ever be a time again when a great deal is not happening? I remain unconvinced.)

I have learned more of the painful details of Hugo’s affair. The woman is Claire Monroe, someone whom I considered one of my closest friends in London. (You might recall her because she played bridesmaid in my wedding.)

Her betrayal is almost as painful to me as his, and I cannot forgive her.

The other bit of news is that I have left the committee that planned to host the fashion show—or been forced to leave, depending on whom you ask. I doubt this will surprise you, but the committee chair, Lady Nolan, has revealed herself to be a horrible snob. After Claire told her about my connection with the shop (which I suspect she learned about from Hugo), Lady Nolan told me in no uncertain terms that my services were no longer needed.

However, there is a happy ending to this story! The fashion show will go on thanks to the intrepid work of the Countess of Winman, a fellow former committee member who defected in solidarity. (And because she too found Lady Nolan to be a horrible snob, which I think shows Lady Winman is a good judge of character.)