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“So, what does your father say today?” Daisy inquired, noticing that Livie had rescued the captain’s letter from the floor.

“He writes about vanity and indiscretion. Also, he says that there is no excuse for unladylike excursions, which makes me feel utterly guilt-ridden.”

Daisy wrinkled her nose. “The captain wouldn’t have appreciated our trip to the masquerade, but honestly, Livie, it’s not as if you wandered off into the shrubbery with the major. That’s what happened to Lady Regina’s first fiancé, you know. Needless to say, said fiancé is now married to the shrubbery. No, that didn’t come out right. Married to the woman he took into the hedge.”

“I’ve been indecorous at best,” Livie said, ignoring the discussion of shrubbery. “I am finding it difficult to write back to Father, since I feel as if I am lying by omission. Yet I cannot confess the truth. I think he might disown me, Daisy.”

“Of course he wouldn’t disown you. He would shout, but you are his cross to bear. Children exist to offend their parents,” Daisy said comfortably. “I expect his father thought he was a terror as a boy.”

“I do know he married my mother against my grandfather’s wishes. Aunt let that slip one day.”

“A love match?” Daisy asked. “It’s hard to imagine. What a pity that your mother has always been so frail.”

Livie just sighed. In her memory, her parents had never lived in the same house, let alone shown signs of being happily married. Her father was always aboard ship, in London, or at her aunt’s estate. Her mother never joined them; Livie had seen her only twice in the last five years.

“I think you’ll be more comfortable if you take it as a given that Uncle will be deeply offended by anything you do.”

“Daisy!”

“It’s true,” her cousin insisted. “He once informed me that my laugh was neither demure nor humble, embodying the original sin of my sex. Poppycock, Livie! With all respect to Captain Sir Tyron, a world in which women were never allowed to laugh would be a dismal place indeed. More than this world already is, I mean. Likely he’s told you the same?”

“I don’t laugh around him.”

Daisy jumped to her feet. “Where’s that letter from the major, Livie?”

Livie’s eyes instinctively flew to her hatbox.

Her cousin dashed over and snatched the box from the top of the wardrobe, running to the far side of the bed. “You don’t mind my looking at your new hat, do you?”

“It isn’t a new hat,” Livie protested. “I merely returned to Mrs. Mogbetty and asked her to resew the veil. You know that!”

Daisy pulled the top off the hatbox. “I see an exquisite masquerade hat.” She held up Livie’s hat, now featuring a spangled veil. “Oh! I love the new veil!”

“Mrs. Mogbetty told me that her masquerade hats are all the rage,” Livie said, hoping to distract her cousin. “Apparently, everyone invited to the Duchess of Trent’s costume ball will be wearing one in lieu of a mask.”

Daisy put down the hat. “I’m very pleased for her.” She tipped the box, grabbed Joshua’s letter, and held it up in the air. “And I’m even more pleased for you. How glorious—evidence of love’s young dream!” She was giggling so hard that she wheezed.

“Daisy, you mustn’t,” Livie cried, springing up and coming to the other side of the bed. “It would be frightfully improper of me to engage in correspondence with an unmarried man. I’ve thought about it, and as long as I don’t read the letter, we haven’t corresponded.”

“Then I’ll read it aloud, just as I do the novels we both love,” Daisy said, catching her breath. “Do you give me permission to open this letter, darling cousin?”

Livie bit her lip.

“Your father’s precepts mean nothing to me,” Daisy said bluntly. “He makes everyone around him uncomfortable with his complaining and carrying on. If I open this letter, and I write back to the young man who sent it, the sin is not yours. You may reply to his daily lecture with a clear conscience.”

Livie still hesitated.

Daisy stuck her finger under the seal and wiggled it. “You can’t ignore the major. He even used a seal on the letter, a proper one, with a coronet. What if he goes to battle and doesn’t return, Livie? Think of that!”

“I suppose,” Livie whispered, her heart squeezed by the thought of Joshua coming to harm. “You may read it aloud, but we definitely shouldn’t answer.”

Daisy ripped it open. “Dear Lady, I am your humble servant. I do heartily wish that you would honor me with a command to be your own, despite your father’s wishes.” Daisy looked up, eyes round. “Livie, he is asking you to run away with him!”

“Surely not,” Livie said. “That’s just fancy language.”

“It is fancy,” Daisy agreed. “Listen to this.” She read a few more sentences, then wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like his letters nearly as well as I liked him.”

“I don’t think he wrote it,” Livie said slowly. “He didn’t speak like this at the masquerade.”