I hadn’t shared with Steele the extent of the conversation I held with the masked man outside the lavatory. And I never would. If he knew that the man confessed to being attracted to me, Steele would move heaven and earth to find him. And he might end up getting hurt or worse. I couldn’t have that.
“Have you had any luck finding the mastermind?”
“None. The house was leased by an enterprise that doesn’t exist. The funds paid to Weatherby were made in cash. So were the payments made to the servants who serviced the Floralia—the guards, the kitchen staff, the house servants. The women who helped secure the young ladies.”
“The one you freed after you found me.”
“Among others. We won’t find him through the usual methods. I’m not giving up, though. Sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake.”
A sense of horror filled me. “You don’t think he’ll set up another event like the Floralia?”
“No. That is well and truly finished. Too much notoriety was attached to that event. But I think he’ll do something just as heinous. What form that will take, I know not. I have put feelers out there. Finch and his associates, for starters, will be keeping their eyes and ears open. I’ve also personally guaranteed a reward to any police officer who reports anything unusual to me. Sooner or later, he’ll show his hand.”
Eager to change the subject to something more lighthearted, I said, “I’ve put in an order for more petticoats.”
The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. “Have your modiste send the invoices to me.”
I laughed. “That would most surely set tongues wagging.”
“They already are.”
“Ah, but right now we are basking in their sunshine. Not that it will last long. Sooner or later, we’ll topple off the pedestal once more.” I shrugged. “But I no longer care. Let them talk.”
A knock on the door sounded just then.
“Come,” I said.
Petunia entered, for once attired faultlessly, not a hair out of place. “Forgive me for interrupting,” she said. “I heard the duke was visiting.”
I don’t know how she managed to hear that bit of news, given she was supposed to be in her schoolroom. “His Grace, sweetheart.”
“Your Grace,” she offered him her best curtsy.
He came to his feet and bowed. “Lady Petunia.” He was always so patient with her.
She retrieved an envelope from behind her. “I just wanted to give the duke an invitation to my birthday party next week. I will be turning eight.”
“Eight is a great age,” he said, accepting the envelope. “I’m honored to be invited.”
“You will come?” She sounded rather worried.
“Yes, of course. I’ll clear my schedule if I must.”
“Good.” She pointed to the envelope. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“If you wish.” He slowly tore it open while Petunia shifted impatiently from foot to foot.
“It’s at three next Wednesday,” she said. “I know how busy you are, so I included a suggestion for a present.”
I was horrified. “Petunia! We don’t ask for gifts on an invitation. His Grace’s presence will be enough.”
She gazed at me like I was weak-minded. “Rosie, we both know the duke will not show up without one. And since he’s so busy, he will not have time to shop. This way, he knows exactly what I want. So he won’t have to wonder.” She gazed beatifically up at him. “It doesn’t have to be wrapped.”
Which he rather missed since he was still staring at the invitation. “Very well. I’ll, er, do my best.”
“Thank you.” And with that, she curtsied and walked out of the room.
He stared at me, the invitation dangling from his hand.
