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“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said.

There was another round of applause, and William stepped back, looking at her expectantly. She frowned. “What?”

Lady Winman stuck her head around the door. “They’re waiting for you.”

“For me?” she asked.

“I couldn’t stand up there and pretend this was all my doing,” said the countess. “You should have your moment too.”

She glanced at William, and he nodded.

“But I haven’t prepared anything,” she protested.

“As though a little thing like preparation would ever frighten the likes of Sylvia Shelton,” said William.

With a laugh that was half-exasperated and half-indulgent, Sylvia eased her way around the door and out in front of all of the people. The models stood to the left of her, all lined up in their ensembles. At the back of the room were the film cameras.

She spread her hands out. “I haven’t prepared anything because I thought I had convinced Lady Winman that she should take on the responsibility of speaking today, but I can see that it is impossible to tell a countess what to do.”

Lord Winman gave a hearty guffaw from his seat in the front row.

“I am the daughter of a talented dressmaker, although few outside of our neighborhood would know the extent of her skill,” she continued. “That is a great shame, but it is not unique to my mother. Few of the hardworking dressmakers in our neighborhoods who make clothing that is both beautiful and practical are celebrated in the way that we celebrate the great design houses of London and Paris.”

She scanned the audience, intending to address Mr. Molyneux, but instead her eyes lit on two women in WAAF uniforms standing in the back of the crowd: Izzie and the unmistakable Lady Alexandra.

Sylvia swallowed as Izzie gave her a little wave and a cheeky grin. She pressed a hand to her chest, checking her emotions, and then smiled at the crowd.

“I hope that this display of unsung talent has inspired you to open your minds—and your checkbooks,” she said as people tittered, “to support not only these designers but also the great cause for which we are gathered here today. Thank you very much.”

There was another round of applause, but she could hardly hear it. Instead, she crossed the ballroom floor that had served as their showcase space and threaded her way through the crowd to Izzie.

“Hello, Sylvia,” said Izzie.

“What are you doing here?” Sylvia asked in disbelief.

Izzie tilted her head. “Well, I couldn’t miss your big day, could I?”

Sylvia gave a sob and then fell into her sister’s open arms.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Izzie hugged her sister close.

“I’m sorry. I should have written to tell you I was coming, but it was all very last-minute,” she said into Sylvia’s brushed-out curls. “I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

“No, it isn’t that,” said Sylvia, laughing and crying at the same time. “I’m just so glad to see you. How is it that you’re here?”

“Alexandra arranged it,” she said, shooting her friend a smile.

“I don’t like to trot out the aristocratic father too often, but I thought that in this case I would make an exception,” said Alexandra cheerfully. “Besides, Izzie had leave due back to her, but our commanding officer was being a beast about claiming she had forfeited it.”

“There haven’t been enough balloon units and—Oh, why am I explaining this all? The important thing is that I’m here,” Izzie said with a laugh.

“Did you see the show?” asked Sylvia, accepting a handkerchief from Alexandra.

“I did, and I thought it was exquisite.” Izzie leaned in. “Very clever of you to leave Mrs. Shelton’s design for last.”

“Organizer’s privilege,” said Sylvia as she dabbed at her tears.