Every person in this room had been there the day they found it.
A piercing shriek made him wince, and then Olivia ran in. She was the daughter of Gray, a detective at Scotland Yard, and the eldest Nightingale daughter, to whom he was married. He was from a wealthy noble family but had chosen not to live his life as they did, which had ensured he fit into this family with ease.
“Primrose, slow down!”
“Primrose?” Ambrose looked at Gray, who was beside him. “I thought your daughter’s name was Olivia.”
“She likes to change her name every day. As you can imagine, it’s not easy to keep up, but we try.”
“You could just say no.”
Gray gave him a pitying look, which Ambrose did not like one bit and had been on the receiving end of many times already today. “You poor, ignorant fool. One day you will have a daughter, and we’ll talk more then.”
The thought of a child—his child—made him feel a little odd inside.
“Tilly!”
His eyes shot to the door, and there she was. The bane of his existence dressed in pale lemon. In her hair was a rose-colored ribbon. Seemingly simple, and yet it was anything but on her.
Tilly had a lush body he had no right to lust after—but he did. Especially after that kiss. She was smiling as she entered, but that fell away as she saw him.
He knew that, like him, she would have been watching the secret entrances in their clubs. A thought that made himgo cold, but as he had little control over the actions of Miss Matilda Wilson, there was nothing he could do about that.
“Tilly, how wonderful!” Alexander Nightingale greeted her with a kiss on her cheek.
He was the second eldest behind Leopold, who was the only one in the family with a title.
“I have a few questions for you, dear. Especially as someone is making their presence felt.”
To anyone else, those words would be odd, but he was used to their peculiar ways now. Alex, for instance, talked to the dead.
“But first, allow me to applaud you on your handling of the Crisp situation.”
“What Crisp situation?” Ambrose asked his little sister.
“They wanted to join The Iris Club, but Tilly asked them why, and Lady Crisp didn’t like it. She was quite rude to her,” his sister said.
The flash of anger was what he would feel if Lady Crisp mistreated anyone he knew, Ambrose reminded himself.
“What did she say, Pixie?”
“That Tilly was plain and unworthy of her time and how she should be grateful that Lady Crisp wanted to join her little club. She was spitting mad.”
“Bitch,” Ambrose hissed.
“Agreed.”
“Has anyone lost a chatelaine?” Leo asked abruptly.
“Have you ever seen any of the people in this room wear one of those?” Ellen asked her brother.
“Mungo, maybe?” Alex said, smirking.
The Scotsman predictably growled.
“I felt the urge to find it a few days ago when I visited that club you made us all join, Ambrose,” Leo said.
“I did not make you join. I merely pointed out that I belonged and the membership was down?—”
