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“Mr. Gray?” Sylvia asked sharply, twisting to look over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the crowd before landing on William. He was standing at the very back of the room, hands folded in front of him. Immediately, her heart softened.

“He came into the shop to ask when and where the show would be held,” said Miss Reid from her spot at her shoulder.

“Did he?” Sylvia asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

William glanced their way, eyes locking with Sylvia’s. He lifted a hand. She mirrored the gesture. He mouthed, “Good luck,” and she dipped her head to hide her smile. He was a good man—probably far better than she’d once deserved—and when she was ready, she planned to work her hardest to be worthy of his love.

She would find him afterward and perhaps suggest a place where they could find a cup of tea and chat. They did have so many years to make up for.

“Sylvia,” said Lady Winman, hurrying up, “I think we should begin.”

Miss Reid pressed a hand against Sylvia’s forearm and melted away in the direction of Mrs. Shelton’s assigned model, a tall girl with a perfect Cupid’s bow mouth and beautifully curling dark hair who fitted into Izzie’s claret dress like a dream.

Sylvia drew back her shoulders. “Ready when you are, Felicity.”

Lady Winman nodded. “Then away we go.”

A triumph.

That’s what it was.

An honest-to-goodness proper triumph.

Sylvia could hear the applause before the final model finished her last twirl and exited the floor. She and Lady Winman caught each other’s gaze and smiled.

“Are you ready to say a few words?” she asked the countess.

They’d debated long and hard about who should address the patrons and press once the show was done. Lady Winman had argued that there would be no event without Sylvia, but Sylvia had turned the argument right back around on her and pointed out that the countess had saved the day.

Since Lady Winman was the sponsor and technically the hostess of the day’s proceedings, they’d finally agreed that she would thank everyone for coming and remind those who were in a mood to buy that designs could be commissioned from each of the participating shops.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” muttered the countess.

She watched as Lady Winman, whom she was beginning to think of as a friend, rolled her shoulders back, set her chin, and glided out from around the ballroom’s double doors to a wave of applause.

She was so proud of what they’d done that day, but even more so of everything that Mrs. Shelton’s Fashions had achieved that year. There was hope and light about the place, and it looked as though, if they kept ahead of the Board of Trade and continued to promote, they might just survive the war.

She was proud of Miss Reid, who had thrown herself into every order, creating beautiful things in a time when beauty could feel so rare.

She was proud of Izzie and her designs that kept coming in the post, gorgeous dress after gorgeous dress.

She was proud of herself for finding her way back here, where she belonged.

A light touch on her shoulder made her glance over to find William next to her.

“It was wonderful,” he said, before she could even ask him what he thought.

Something in her warmed the way that it had started to whenever she saw him. “Thank you.”

“I overheard some of the journalists talking about it, and I saw a few women flipping through their ration books to count coupons,” he said as Lady Winman’s speech drifted back to them.

“That is exactly what we need,” she said.

“A few were opening their checkbooks too,” he said.

“All the better for the war widows,” she said with a smile. “It was good of you to come.”