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-Replace his favorite snuff with pepper;

-Somehow obtain a goose, set the goose loose on his property, and let nature take its course.

“I wonder,” Dorothy said from her place in the cozy drawing room, “what could have the poor notebook done to have you look at it with such menace.”

“It’s not the notebook; it’s the person I am imagining teaching a lesson or two.”

“Spare poor Stephen.” Dorothy smiled.

“He is next in line,” Victoria said dryly. “But His Grace would be oblivious in the countryside if our esteemed neighbor didn’t intervene.”

“To be honest, I am grateful that Stephen is back.” Dorothy looked apologetically at her. “I just wish that it was for the right reasons, not because some bitter old man wrote these preposterous things.”

“You see? So where do we find a goose?”

Dorothy fell back in her chair, laughing, and her good mood was contagious.

“Well then, if it’s satisfaction you seek, I suggest something a little more immediate.” Dorothy handed her a still-warm pastry. “Apple tarts. Fresh from the kitchen.”

Victoria took a bite, moaning appreciatively. Apple sweets of any kind were her weakness, and the Dowager Duchess knew that well.

“You are a woman of infinite wisdom.”

“I strive to be.”

As Victoria indulged in the pastry, Dorothy studied her with that ease that had been flowing between them since the first time they met.

“You know that I don’t agree with Stephen that your presence here is a problem, right?”

Victoria almost choked at the mention of the man she decided was her arch-nemesis. But she chose to focus on the fact that Dorothy was trying to make her feel better.

“I’d hope so, given the times I have pretended not to notice that you cheat in cards,” Victoria commented.

“I might have to revise my feelings.” Dorothy pretended to be wounded.

“Dorothy, you and Annabelle have always been supporting, accepting. I would allow you a thousand cheats in whist.”

They chuckled.

“In all seriousness,” Victoria continued softly, “I owe you so much. Your friendship and your support when I needed it the most. When my brother and I clashed…”

She still remembered that heated argument, the words they exchanged with Maxwell. If Dorothy hadn’t been there to offer the solution of becoming her companion to get away, her relationship with her brother might have become irreparable.

“You do see the pattern of you clashing with men, though, don’t you, Victoria?”

They both burst into more laughter.

Between the sweetness of the pastry and their even sweeter way of dealing with adversities, Victoria felt the bitter taste of Stephen’s words lose their edge. It didn’t matter what others thought, only those who mattered to her.

Doesn’t he?

She ignored the senseless notion and enjoyed the rest of the day with Dorothy. They walked in the garden, where Dorothy regaled her with stories of past scandals so outrageous that Victoria laughed until her stomach ached, nearly tumbling into the rosebushes more than once.

By the time the afternoon sun turned golden, they were curled up in the drawing room, reading and drinking tea, their conversation punctuated by occasional exasperated remarks about whatever nonsense the novel’s hero was up to.

It was the kind of day Victoria cherished—light, easy, filled with laughter and warmth. And the best part? Other than a brief appearance at lunch, Stephen stayed in his study most of the day.

As she reached for another biscuit, Dorothy set her book down with a quiet sigh and studied Victoria over the rim of her teacup.