"You've mud on your cheek, Livvy," Miranda said, reaching out to wipe it away.

Olivia let out a dramatically weary sigh. "I'd best go to the washroom, then. I shouldn't want Mama to see me thus. She quite abhors dirt, and I quite abhor listening to her tell me how much she abhors it."

"I don't see how she will have time to object to a little mud on your face when she's got it all over the carpet." Miranda glanced over at William Evans, who let out a war cry and cannonballed onto the sofa. She pursed her lips; otherwise, she'd smile. "And the furniture."

"All the same, I had best go do something about it."

She slipped out of the room, leaving Miranda near the doorway. Miranda watched the commotion for a minute or so, quite content to be in her usual spot as an observer, until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching.

"What did you bring Olivia for her birthday, Miranda?"

Miranda turned to see Fiona Bennet standing before her, prettily dressed in a white frock with a pink sash. "A book," she replied. "Olivia likes to read. What did you bring?"

Fiona held up a gaily painted box tied with a silver cord. "A collection of ribbons. Silk and satin and even velvet. Do you want to see?"

"Oh, but I wouldn't want to ruin the wrapping."

Fiona shrugged. "All you need to do is untie the cord carefully. I do it every Christmas." She slipped off the cord and lifted the lid.

Miranda caught her breath. At least two dozen ribbons lay on the black velvet of the box, each exquisitely tied into a bow. "They're beautiful, Fiona. May I see one?"

Fiona narrowed her eyes.

"I haven't any mud on my hands. See?" Miranda held her hands up for inspection.

"Oh, very well."

Miranda reached down and picked up a violet ribbon. The satin felt sinfully sleek and soft in her hands. She placed the bow coquettishly against her hair. "What do you think?"