“Well,” Diana said slowly, knowing her friends were going to think her mad, “I was just wondering if perhaps we don’t give Lady Helen enough credit.”

“Credit for being dreadful?” Violet asked. “I assure you, I give her plenty of credit in that regard.”

“We’ve crossed paths a fair number of times, and she is quite awful,” Emily agreed.

“Oddly so, in fact,” Violet mused. “Her brother is quite alluring.” She had a vague, dreamy expression upon her face.

“Violet!” Emily said, shocked. “You are married!”

“And only recently reconciled,” Diana chimed in. “Don’t ruin your reconciliation by mooning over Rothsmere.”

Violet laughed the laugh of happily married women everywhere, secure in their husband’s affections. Diana, despite having been married for over two years before Templeton’s death, had never laughed that laugh. “I’m married, not dead,” Violet said. “Rothsmere is exceedingly handsome. And charming.” She gave Emily a speculative look. “In fact…”

“Oh, no,” Emily said, nipping that line of conversation in the bud before it could even be properly begun. “We are not talking about me anymore. We are discussing Diana.”

“So we were,” Violet said, but not before giving Emily a glance that said, quite clearly, that she was mentally bookmarking this discussion to be continued later. Diana found it rather disconcerting to realize how much energy Violet had to meddle in her friends’ lives now that her own marriage had been so happily, if laboriously, reconciled. The change in her friend, in fact, made Diana feel a bit odd: she realized that Violet had not been quite, well, Violet for so many years, and that she, Diana, had not entirely noticed it until Violet was acting like herself again. What kind of friend was Diana? Was she so self-absorbed that she could fail to notice a friend’s misery? That thought made her, quite suddenly, think once again about the dark circles beneath Emily’s eyes, and she vowed that this was one conversation that she, too, would continue.

At the moment, however, both of her friends were peering at her curiously, rather as though she were a particularly exotic animal. She could not entirely blame them, given the day’s events.

“Willingham and I have come to a mutually agreeable arrangement,” she said briskly, trying to keep any hint of sentiment out of her voice. Evidently she succeeded, because Emily looked disappointed and Violet rolled her eyes. “This arrangement has no bearing whatsoever on his grandmother’s efforts to marry him off, and that is why I’ve decided to distract her by finding a different matrimonial candidate for him.”

“You think he is going to suddenly decide that Lady Helen Courtenay is his ideal wife?” Violet asked, extremely skeptically.

“I’m saying that the lady perhaps deserves some further investigation,” Diana said carefully. She knew this was a stretch, and yet it seemed too easy an opportunity to pass up entirely. “Her brother is delightful, and seems to like her well enough, so she can’t be as dreadful as she seems. It’s only a matter of making Willingham realize it.”

“Why do you care so much, Diana?” Emily asked curiously.

“Have you met his grandmother?” Diana exclaimed. “I’ve no intention of spending the next fortnight with her trying to trap me in a locked room with her grandson.”

“I imagine she won’t need to try very hard,” Violet said with unholy glee. “I think it likely you’ll trap yourself without much prompting.”

“That is quite enough commentary from you, Violet, thank you very much,” Diana said peevishly. “I’m going to seek Lady Helen out and try to get to know her a bit better. She and Willingham might suit perfectly.”

And Diana would be one hundred pounds the richer, just like that—and, far more important, she would have the satisfaction of having bested Willingham. She did not wish for much in life—a comfortable house, an extensive wardrobe, and a plentiful supply of paint and canvas were all she really asked for. But the sensation of winning a wager against Willingham? Yes, she would admit to wanting that rather badly.

She sat back, feeling rather pleased with herself. It was an entirely sound plan.

Violet and Emily regarded her as though she had recently escaped from Bedlam.

“This is a dreadful plan,” Emily said with uncharacteristic bluntness. “I do try to see the good in everyone, but Lady Helen… well, she makes it rather difficult.”

“This is one of the worst ideas I have ever heard,” Violet agreed, and given that this comment was coming from someone who had recently feigned consumption to gain her husband’s attention, it had to be said that it stung a bit.

Diana smiled with more confidence than she truly felt. “You say that now. But haven’t we learned quite recently that even the most far-fetched schemes may ultimately prove successful?”

Emily looked back and forth between the pair of them. “I think that if either of you show the faintest hint of attempting to meddle in my romantic affairs, I shall elope.”

Diana didn’t entirely blame her.

* * *

It was just before teatime that Diana enacted the next stage of her plan.

She dawdled in the corridor outside the library, perfectly aware that Lady Helen would have to pass this way en route to the blue drawing room, where tea was being served. Diana spared a longing thought for the treats on offer; Willingham’s cook was famous for her raspberry jam, sure to be presented alongside her fluffy, heavenly scones, and postponing such delights in favor of a conversation with Lady Helen Courtenay took reserves of self-discipline that Diana had not been certain she possessed.