She knew exactly what he was thinking. Instead of wearing a drab, shapeless frock, Phyllida preferred bright colors and silky fabrics for her day dresses. Today hers was a sky-blue rayon, belted neatly at her waist—which admittedly wasn’t nearly as slim as it used to be, but was still defined—with a lacy white collar that lay flat over the bodice. Her sleeves were probably bothersome to the butler as well, for they were feminine, flowing cap sleeves rather than long, starched ones with buttoned cuffs. She had a watch on her left wrist and no other jewelry. Phyllida wore stockings, of course, and black shoes with heels that were just slightly less than completely practical. She never wore an apron, but always had the ring of household keys fastened to her belt, and every frock she wore was equipped with pockets into which she slipped minutiae that she came upon during her day: a shriveled leaf or petal from the flower arrangements, a scrap of paper, a random thread or button, and the like.

But it was her hair—a unique and bright strawberry gold—that irritated Mr. Dobble the most. Since Phyllida was well aware of this, she always made certain to coif herself in a modern fashion that did nothing to “subdue it,” as the butler had once demanded she do; his intention being clear that she should wear a cap to cover the distraction. In fact, she’d recently had it cut off into a shorter, more fashionable style, which produced an unexpected benefit in her subtle digs at Mr. Dobble’s intolerance: her hair had become even less restrained.

Now, instead of having a smooth head of hair parted slightly off-center with an intricate knot or roll resting at the back of her neck, Phyllida had a soft mass of just-below-chin-length waves erupting from all over her head. She used pretty pins and combs to keep it from falling messily into her face or obstructing her vision, and which had the added benefit of butler annoyance for the glittering of the jet beads or false pearls that decorated them. No one but herself, and the woman who’d cut her hair, ever got close enough to notice that there were plenty of silver hairs mingling among the bright curls.

“I’ve just come from the sitting room where the damper was stuck again,” Phyllida said. “It’s made a horrendous mess, and I’ve sent Freddie to begin sweeping it up. Which of the extra maids did you assign there yesterday?”

Mr. Dobble’s eyes widened a trifle so quickly she nearly missed it. “It was . . . hmph . . . I do believe it was the dark-haired one. With the, uh, the large nose. I didn’t expect anyone would be using the room with everyone gone.”