“Not really.” Reese heaved a sigh and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I’d like you to tell me everything you know about Miss Violet Darby, who, I understand, once worked here.”

“Violet?” The valet’s spine snapped straight, as though he was instantly on guard. “Why would you want to know about her?”

“I’ve recently learned that she’s with child and might be in need of assistance. I’m hoping you can give me her address because … I want to help.”

Next Friday morning at breakfast, Mary casually opened the London Hearsay, and Sophie’s heart began to trip. She hadn’t seen the final version of the column Lily wrote and delivered to the paper, nor had she seen Fiona’s sketch.

But she did know that both women had intended to make a statement in this week’s edition.

She resisted the urge to snatch the paper from her sister’s hands, and, instead, asked, “What’s the topic of today’s Debutante Revenge?”

Mary raised a fair brow. “Oh, I’d quite forgotten that a new column appears in the paper today. I was looking for the fashion pages.”

Sophie refrained from rolling her eyes—barely. She knew that Mary enjoyed the column as much as anyone. Her sister simply refused to admit it.

“Give the column to Sophie, then, so she can read it to us,” Mama instructed, briskly stirring cream into her tea. “Her engagement ball tomorrow night is a particularly momentous event; perhaps this week’s edition will have some pertinent advice.”

Sophie cast Mama a skeptical glance as Mary sullenly handed over the paper. She opened it to the column expecting one of Fiona’s gorgeously romantic drawings.

But the image was strikingly different. The sketch, much larger than usual, took up half of the newspaper page. In it, three barefoot women wearing half masks and long, flowing gowns danced around a bubbling cauldron. The first woman held an artist’s palette in one hand and paintbrush in the other, pointing it like a rapier. The second wielded a large feather quill near her shoulder as though it were a dueling pistol and she was about to pace off. The third outstretched her palm to reveal a seed that had sprouted into a lovely flowering vine.

Dear Lord. Fiona had skillfully hidden their identities, and yet, Sophie had never felt so exposed.

“Goodness.” She looked up at her mother’s and sister’s expectant faces. “Today’s sketch is quite different from the usual fare,” she said, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

“Just read the column,” Mary said, slightly annoyed. “Mama and I shall look at the illustration later.”

“Very well.” Sophie cleared her throat and began.