Diana and Lavinia were standing together, staring out the window. Willa forced herself to walk calmly toward them, pretending that her heart wasn’t racing and her cheeks weren’t flushed.

“What are you looking at?” she asked a moment later, peering out at the lawn. Diana made a noise that sounded like a sob. Abruptly, Willa saw that Diana’s shoulders were shaking, and Lavinia was standing in such a way as to shield her from the room.

She hastily reached into her knotting bag and produced a handkerchief. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no,” Diana said unconvincingly, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief. “I’m merely overtired. I traveled through the night yesterday. Mother didn’t want to insult His Grace with a belated arrival but she was occupied in London. She sent me ahead with my maid, knowing Lady Gray would act as my chaperone, and it was a tiring journey.”

That betrayed a profound lack of understanding of the nature of house parties. One didn’t worry about arriving late; people sometimes appeared a fortnight after the party began.

But while Diana’s late father had been a distant relation of Lavinia’s, her grandfather on her mother’s side had been a Lord Mayor of London—a fact everyone tactfully pretended to overlook while talking about it constantly.

Love at first sight is more romantic when it has a touch of mésalliance about it, and Diana’s grandfather—a rich grocer—was rarely forgotten when Lord Roland’s proposal was mentioned.

“Lady Gray is generally late to every occasion,” Willa said comfortingly.

“We told my mother that the house party began three full days early,” Lavinia said, rubbing small circles on Diana’s right shoulder blade. “Otherwise, we might have arrived a week from now, and you’d have had no chaperone at all.”

Diana gave them a wobbly smile. “My mother felt I had to be here on the first day of the party. She is terrified that it will dawn on my fiancé that we don’t belong in the highest circles. She keeps trying to disguise me.” She gestured toward her wig.

“Your wig is a disguise?” Lavinia asked. “How so? I would think it makes you more obvious, if anything.”

“I know,” Diana said miserably. “I feel as if I’m an entry at the fair for the largest marrow grown in the shire. I couldn’t sit down in that infernal dress I wore this afternoon because it felt as if I had a washing tub strapped to my hips. I just stood in one place and ate so many muffins I felt ill.”

“I suppose all clothing is a disguise of one sort or another,” Willa said, thinking about it. “Just look at Lavinia.”

Diana glanced at her blue gown.

“My bodice is extremely small,” Lavinia said helpfully.

“Which disguises her face,” Willa followed up. “When Lavinia wears it, gentlemen are incapable of looking anywhere else.”

“I could cut one of the bundles off the back of my Polonaise gown and it would contain more cloth than your entire bodice,” Diana observed, looking slightly more cheerful.

“Mother wasn’t entirely pleased when I ordered this gown,” Lavinia said—something of an understatement in light of the ensuing hysterics—“but she changed her mind after seeing its effect on gentlemen.”

“I wish my mother would allow me to select my own gowns,” Diana said.

“Soon enough you’ll be a married lady and you can wear whatever you wish,” Willa pointed out. “Will you live in London, or here at Lindow?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Diana said, in a voice that welcomed no further questions on that subject. “You were speaking to Lord Wilde, or rather, Lord Alaric, earlier, weren’t you? I have the feeling that he doesn’t like me very much.”

“He has a brusque manner,” Willa said. “Could you be mistaken? He frowns easily, but I don’t think he dislikes me.”

In fact, she had the unnerving conviction that Lord Alaric liked her quite a lot.

“My fiancé says that his brother is frightfully cross about that play,” Diana said. “It seems that Wilde in Love is akin to his books; to wit, entirely fictional.”

“The plot may have been elaborated upon by the playwright,” Lavinia said defensively. “I am willing to accept that the missionary’s daughter was added for the sake of melodrama. But Lord Alaric’s adventures, as described in his books, are not exaggerated. I am certain of it.”

Across the room Lord Alaric had his head bent as he listened to Helena Biddle, who was cuddled so close to him that her bosom was practically in his armpit.

“Do you suppose she’ll be able to lure him into her bed?” Diana asked. Then she clapped a hand to her mouth. “I am so sorry. I’m not used—”

“That’s all right,” Lavinia assured her. “We both plan to remain faithful to our husbands if at all possible, but one can’t pretend that more creative arrangements don’t exist.” She studied the couple, and added, “Even though she’s a widow, Lady Biddle is remarkably assertive.”

The lady was clinging to Lord Alaric’s arm, one of her hands pressed to her heart, her eyes round.

“Perhaps he’s telling her about his adventures,” Willa said, feeling a visceral flare of dislike for the lady.

“Or the location of his bedchamber,” Diana put in.

Lavinia tossed her head. “If his taste is that wretched, I shall definitely stop adoring him.”

Diana laughed, but it was a small, stunted sound. “Do you believe that is within your control?”

“Yes,” Lavinia stated.

“I have the impression that Lord Roland would like to stop adoring me,” Diana said.

Willa was surprised into silence by her frankness.

Lavinia, naturally, was not. “For your sake, I would hope not. I have every intention of ensuring that my husband adores me. It will prevent any number of problems.”

“It’s awkward to marry someone who doesn’t share one’s feelings. We are both uncomfortable.”

They all three instinctively looked toward her fiancé. From this distance, he resembled an advertisement for a French tailor.

“Likely you will come to love him in time,” Lavinia said. “Lord Roland is quite handsome. If nothing else, he will present a pleasing vision at the breakfast table.”

“And the bedchamber,” Willa said.

“Wil-la,” Lavinia hissed, under her breath.

Diana gave the two of them a quizzical look.

“Lavinia is reminding me to avoid improper subjects in public,” Willa explained. “But just think how pretty your children will be.”

“Mama mourned my father for well over a year,” Lavinia said. “Yet she absolutely detested him during the first year of marriage. Detested.”

“Why?” Diana asked.

Lavinia laughed. “She says he smelled like a horse, because he spent all his time in the stables. She taught him to bathe regularly, and then he taught her how to ride a horse, and after that, they began loving each other.”

“I don’t think it will be so simple,” Diana said.

“Are you in love with someone else?” Lavinia asked.

“No!” Diana said. And then: “Will you both stay at Lindow Castle for the entire six weeks of the house party?” There was just the faintest shake in her voice.

“We plan to travel to Manchester for a few days next week,” Willa said, “and you should definitely join us, unless your mother has arrived by then. Lady Gray has some friends whom she wishes to visit.”

“Look at that,” Diana whispered. Lord Alaric was headed across the room toward his brother at a pace scarcely short of a jog. “He’s escaping!”

They watched as the two men met in the center of the room. Lord Alaric’s face lit with laughter as he slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder.

“There’s something remarkably attractive about all those muscles,” Lavinia said. “Your future husband has them, Diana, and he doesn’t even climb mountains. You are very lucky.”

“I’ll try to keep it in mind,” Diana replied. “Lord Alaric’s life sounds so uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Arctic ice, mountains, pirates, cannibals, and likely no afternoon tea, either.”

“I know,” Lavinia admitted, with a sudden flash of common sense. “I adore his books, but I certainly wouldn’t want to be him. Or marry him. What will you do if he falls in love with you, Willa? Everyone else did.”

She and Willa had come to the duke’s country house party straight from their first Season, during which they had been fêted and proposed to with remarkable fervor.

Willa’s heart skipped a beat at the idea of Lord Alaric at her feet. “None of those men truly love me. Nor you either, Lavinia, to be blunt, even though you were as popular as I. They don’t know us at all.”

“He would make an excellent spouse,” Diana said, adding in a lowered voice, “I heard that Lord Alaric’s estate is easily the size of his father’s, with one of the biggest apple orchards in the county.”

Lindow Castle could be seen for miles about, which suggested that the Wilde books were far more profitable than Willa would have guessed. “Lavinia must own at least one of those apple trees, given all the prints of his face that she’s bought,” she pointed out.

As she was laughingly backing away from Lavinia, who was threatening her with a fan, the duke hoisted his pregnant duchess out of her chair, which served as a signal that everyone should make their way to the great hall on the upper floor, where supper would be served.

“Will you sit with us?” Lavinia asked Diana. “We shall be near the bottom of the room, because Willa has asked the butler to place her at a smaller table with a scholar who’s transcribing Egyptian hieroglyphs.”

“I know that sounds dire, but it’s an interesting subject,” Willa promised.

“You’re not seated at a table with Lady Gray?” Diana said doubtfully. “My mother wouldn’t approve.”

Just then her fiancé turned and headed in their direction.

“I’m sure the scholar will be enlightening,” Diana said, setting out for the door at a brisk pace.

They had almost escaped when Lord Roland cut them off. “May my brother and I have the honor of escorting the three of you upstairs to dine?”

That rumble in his voice betrayed far more about his emotions than a man of his caliber would ordinarily care to reveal. Diana certainly didn’t like it; her whole body had gone rigid.

“Not tonight,” Lavinia said, giving them both a cheerful smile. “We have plans to educate ourselves.”

Lord Alaric was looking at Willa, which made her feel pleased and uneasy at the same time. “I am always in need of education,” he said. “Who is dispensing instruction this evening?”

“We have made plans to dine with Mr. Roberts, a young Oxford don who has been working in the duke’s library,” Willa explained.

“Roberts, the Egyptologist?” Lord Alaric inquired.

She nodded. “I want to ask about his work on hieroglyphs and the Egyptian alphabet.”

“What are hieroglyphs?” Diana asked, edging around to Willa’s other side, away from her fiancé.

“It’s a way of writing with little pictures,” Willa said. “Lavinia and I saw an exhibition of ancient Egyptian scrolls covered with them.”

“I’ve always been interested in hieroglyphs,” Lord Alaric said. “And so has North.”

He elbowed Lord Roland, who was gazing at Diana. “Absolutely,” his brother said. “Fascinated.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Lord Alaric added, “Roberts is working on the barrel of papyri I sent home. I’d forgotten all about that. It’s just like our father to have someone in to translate them.”

“You cannot translate hieroglyphs,” Willa said, before she could stop herself. “The alphabet isn’t understood at this point.”

“She’s got you there,” Lord Roland said, snapping out of his study of Diana’s downcast eyes to elbow his brother back.

“I’m more interested in the present than the past,” Lord Alaric said. “But I shall be interested to see what the fellow thinks of the papyri. I had them off an old man who swore they were found in one of the pyramids.”

“Perhaps we should continue to the dining hall,” Willa said. Lady Biddle was bearing down fast behind Lord Alaric, the way a thundercloud bundles up on the horizon, and then manifests as a black cloud just over your head.

To judge by her scowl, she had decided that Willa was persona non grata.

Willa aimed a smile over Lord Alaric’s shoulder.

The thundercloud darkened.

Lord Alaric’s eyes narrowed, but he did not turn.

“Ladies, I shall speak to Prism and arrange to join you at the meal,” Lord Roland said, bowing.

“Excellent idea; I’ll join you,” Lord Alaric said heartily, turning on his heel without further farewell.

Lady Biddle arrived just too late, drawing up short in the aggravated way a horse does when a carriage nips out from a side alley and blocks the road.

Diana, Lavinia, and Willa all curtsied.

“You three act as if you’re so different from the rest of us,” the lady said, in an astonishing display of poor manners. “As if you didn’t want him. The truth is that he’s a handsome beast, and we all want him.”

“I beg your pardon,” Diana said frigidly, doing an excellent imitation of a woman who would someday become a duchess.

“As a matter of fact, I’ve changed my mind,” Lavinia said with her usual ready friendliness, even though Lady Biddle was glowering. “He seems like a real person now, if that makes sense.”

“Lord Alaric is not a beast,” Willa stated, wondering why she was bothering to defend the man.

Lady Biddle laughed. “He’s a primitive. That’s the thrill of it.” Her mouth twisted. “Oh, why am I trying to explain to you? Green girls are so tiresome. Don’t think he isn’t bored by the three of you, because he is.”

“I have no doubt,” Willa said, keeping her tone even. “If you’ll please excuse us, Lady Gray will be looking for us.”

“That woman is extraordinarily ill-bred,” Diana said, as they climbed the stairs to the great hall. “When I am married, I shall give her the cut direct.”

“I was fascinated to see Willa throw her hat into the ring,” Lavinia said, twinkling at Willa. “You practically challenged Lady Biddle to a duel, or a version of it.”

“I most certainly did not,” Willa exclaimed.

“You raised an eyebrow,” Lavinia crowed. “I saw you! That was a challenge. Your expression implied that Lord Alaric was at your feet and you were contemplating whether to accept his hand. And then you defended him!”

“Really?” Willa said, trying to decide whether defense could be construed as a challenge.

“Absolutely,” Lavinia confirmed. “If you were a man, you would have slapped her cheek with a scented glove and challenged her to meet you on the heath, and there in the early dawn, you’d have to defend your—”

“Don’t say ‘love,’ ” Willa advised.

“I wasn’t going to. You’d have to defend your desirability over Lady Biddle’s. Obviously, you would win.”

“That’s not high praise,” Willa said, thinking about Helena Biddle’s eyes. They were beady. And greedy.

“Don’t you want the famous Lord Wilde at your feet?” Diana asked, peering past Lavinia. “You would be my sister-in-law.”

“I’m sorry, but no, even under those circumstances,” Willa replied.

She couldn’t imagine Lord Wilde at her feet. He was the explorer, the man who leaned close to Lady Biddle, who spoke knowledgeably about Egyptian pyramids, and seemed to await praise of his books. If not his profile.

But Lord Alaric?

That was a different story. The very idea of him at her feet, or in her bedchamber, made her feel hot all over.

Lord Alaric was livid at the idea of his personal life playing out on the stage. He didn’t want all his admirers. He made terrible puns and looked as if he’d like to pounce on her.

Carry her from the room and into his bedchamber.

“Think of how many ladies are mad for Lord Wilde. It would be such a triumph,” Diana insisted.

Willa shrugged, breaking her own rule. “I’m not interested.”

“Willa!” Lavinia hissed.

Lord Alaric was looking down at them from the top of the stairs, certainly within earshot. Willa stopped short, hand frozen on the balustrade.

He opened his mouth and almost said something, but instead took himself off down the hallway.

“Well, that was awkward,” Lavinia murmured.

Willa bit her lip. She hadn’t intended for him to overhear her. All the same, she’d meant what she said. She would hate it if women pursued her husband, sniffing at his feet as dogs do after a fox’s tail has been dragged over a path.

She would never marry a fox’s tail.

That didn’t quite make sense. She didn’t want to marry a man whom everyone wanted, as Helena Biddle put it. The lady was wrong to call him a primitive, but she was right about his desirability.

No one lusted after Socrates, she reminded herself again.

Her engraving of the philosopher pointed directly to the type of man with whom she could be happy.