He caught Viola gazing at him. She blushed a pink shade to match the gown she wore.

“Miss Beaton is blushing,” observed Ravenwood. “She’s such a charming young lady, I’ve always thought. One of my wife’s best friends.”

West didn’t reply. Best to remain silent. Ravenwood would see right through him if he opened his mouth.

“Banksford married his children’s governess,” Ravenwood remarked.

“Banksford could afford to marry a governess. I can’t.”

“It’s truly that bad?”

“Maybe I should try inventing steam engines.”

“Or you could turn to a life of crime. Art thievery, jewel heists, and the like. Course then I’d have to hunt you down and bring you to justice.”

“Banksford wanted to run one of his railways through Westbury Abbey at one point but I turned him down. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life, Ravenwood.”

His friend searched his face. “I do believe you’ve changed, Westbury. There’s something decidedly different about you. Might it have anything to do with sweet, pretty music instructors?”

Don’t answer that. Just keep walking.

Viola kept stride with her dear friend India, known as Indy, with difficulty, as her friend strode instead of walking at a normal pace.

“Damn these skirts.” Indy lifted her hem. “I have trousers underneath. Just waiting until we’re back at the house and I can peel off this hampering gown. How have you been since I’ve been away?”

“Father is nearly finished with his symphony, the ladies acquitted themselves admirably at a musicale yesterday evening, and I’m hard at work on a new commission.”

“I meant how are you feeling. You seem not quite your usual smiling self.”

“I’m grand.” Viola repeated the lie. She’d repeat it as many times as she had to in order to make it true. She couldn’t shake a sense of impending doom.

“You forget that I know you well. And I know when you’re lying to me. Is it about Westbury? I see the way you look at him.”

“Westbury is proposing to Lady Winifred Woolfrey today,” Viola said stiffly. “It will be an excellent match. Everyone approves.” Her brave facade crumpled and she clutched Indy’s hand. “And it’s all wrong,” she whispered. “I’m devastated. It’s tearing me apart.”

“Oh, Viola.” Indy stopped walking and gave her a hug. “I didn’t know you were in such pain.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll get over it.”

“You’re obviously in love with him. Doesn’t he love you back?”

“He’s too afraid of allowing himself to love. And I’m not duchess material.”

Indy shook her shoulders gently. “Don’t be silly. There are many kinds of duchesses. Take me for example.”

“Yes, but Westbury only requires one kind. And because of my birth and lack of education and prospects, I can’t be her.”