“It’s very thoughtful of him,” she agreed. Turning to Lily, she said, “Tell me again—what do you plan to write about this week?”

Lily wrinkled her nose as if Sophie’s blatant attempt to change the subject carried a distinctly foul odor. “We don’t have to discuss the ball if you’d rather not,” she said smoothly. “But I hope you’ve at least given some thought as to what you’ll wear.”

“I’ll find something in my armoire, I’m sure,” Sophie said, nonchalant. Her emotions were scraped raw after her meeting with Reese last night, and despite her friends’ attempts to cheer her, she couldn’t forget the haunted look in his eyes just before he’d kissed her—and walked away. “I don’t think my gown will change the course of the evening, in any event,” Sophie mused.

Lily gasped as if the offhand comment had been blasphemy of the first order. “A pretty gown can work small miracles, Soph. Perhaps that should be the subject of this week’s column,” she said, smirking. “We could have a bit of fun with that.”

“We certainly could,” Fiona said. “But I think perhaps we should use this week’s column to respond to some of the column’s detractors.”

“Oh no,” said Sophie. “Has there been another letter to the editor?” There had been two rather incendiary letters printed in the past week, both written by gentlemen who objected to the content of The Debutante’s Revenge.

Fiona placed a folded newspaper on the desk in front of Sophie. “I’m afraid so. In this one, a gentleman asserts that since his wife began reading the column she has become ‘considerably less docile and submissive.’”

“Heaven forfend,” Lily said dryly.

Fiona winced. “He also blames the column for her tendency to ‘whisper with her lady friends and make jokes at his expense.’”

Lily clucked her tongue blithely. “Goodness, he sounds as delicate as a flower.”

Sophie quickly scanned the letter, raising her brows at the final jab. “He concludes by calling The Debutante’s Revenge ‘the work of a devious and deranged witch who wishes to cast her wicked spell over London’s most impressionable and fragile population.’”

“What? That’s absurd and insulting!” Lily crossed her arms, clearly incensed. “If you ask me, the author of that letter—I shan’t call him a gentleman—doesn’t deserve to be acknowledged with a response.”

“Normally, I would agree with you,” Sophie said, “but there has been a rising tide of malice directed at the column lately. Several members of the Debutante Underground have mentioned that their fathers, brothers, or husbands have recently forbid them to read it. Maybe it’s time we directly addressed the hatred.”