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“I had not anticipated the many wigs on display,” she said. “I am grateful for the vast array of colors in the clothing.”

He nodded. “It does make it more difficult to identify people, but thankfully, you need only follow two.”

“If Lord Hargrove is with Rosalind, let us walk closer to them,” Lady Langton said.

“Very well,” Jonas said. “And once you are conveniently situated nearby, I will leave you and take over for Bloxley with Forwood.”

***

Lady Langton swayed gently to the familiar melody while Elizabeth strained to listen to Lord Hargrove’s voice behind her over the sound of the music. She inched closer.

“It’s this dashed foot, Your Grace. Can’t be trusted, that’s the thing. One day it’s fine, and the next, it’s hurting like the blazes.”

“Really, my dear.” That must be his wife speaking. “I am quite sure the duchess has no interest in hearing about your gout.”

“Oh, but if it causes Lord Hargrove to resort to using a walking stick, it is significant indeed,” the duchess said.

“Absolutely right, Your Grace. It’s a fine thing that these sticks are so popular in Town, but it’s a bit of a bother to rely on them for getting in and out of a chair.”

“I can only imagine.” The duchess’s sympathy was well received.

“Well, there you have it, Your Grace. The price of getting old, I say.” He laughed. It was not a familiar sound. Then again, Elizabeth wasn’t sure that she’d ever heard the Midnight Master laugh.

“Come now, Lord Hargrove, you are not so old as all that. I daresay you still ride your stallion all over the county and beyond.”

“That I do, Your Grace. I take regular jaunts down to the coast of Kent.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, indeed. Some of the best French brandy in the country is to be had in that area.”

Elizabeth discovered that her palms were sweating. She ran them down her gown. She could not begin to fathom how the duchess was maintaining her part of this dialogue so calmly.

“Do you recommend anywhere in particular?” the duchess said. “I daresay the duke would be most interested.”

“Have him speak with me directly,” Lord Hargrove said, sounding all at once more businesslike. “I may be in a position to help him.”

“Very well.” The duchess must have been equally surprised by Lord Hargrove’s change in tone because she appeared to be momentarily at a loss for words. The lull gave Lady Hargrove an opportunity to speak.

“Lady Trowden was telling me that you have as wide a variety of rosebushes here at Finley Park as the Duchess of Beaumont claims in her garden, Your Grace.”

“We certainly have several,” the duchess said, obviously not wishing to offend Lady Trowden or the Duchess of Beaumont. “I would have to ask our head gardener to be sure.”

Elizabeth leaned a little closer to Lady Langton. “Perhaps we should wander over to the other side of the garden, my lady. If we go now, we might reach Lord Forwood while he is yet speaking with the viscount.”

“An excellent suggestion,” Lady Langton said. She took Elizabeth’s arm and allowed her to lead the way toward the canopy. “And afterward, perhaps we might try a cake while we are in the vicinity of the serving tables. The duke’s cook is known for her orange-flower-water cakes. I believe the secret ingredient is mace, but she refuses to share her recipe with anyone, so I can’t be sure.”

Elizabeth smiled. It was good for her to be with Lady Langton. She was so composed and so completely unruffled by their sleuthing activities at this astonishing event that it helped bring a small measure of calm to Elizabeth’s anxious heart. Procuring the viscountess a piece of her favorite cake would be a perfect distraction after listening in to Lord Forwood and Lord Langton’s conversation. If Elizabeth’s every thought remained on eavesdropping alone, her frayed nerves may well betray her.

She had not recognized anything in particular while listening to Lord Hargrove, although he had admitted to a limp and to regular trips to Kent in search of French brandy. She could only hope that something would strike her when she heard the baron speak.

As they drew close to Lord Forwood and Lord Langton, Elizabeth slowed her steps, looking for a plausible reason to stop. A nearby broom bush caught her attention. Its brilliant yellow flowers had attracted a couple of butterflies.

“Look, Lady Langton,” she said. “Can you see the butterflies? They’re on the broom bush.”

The viscountess turned toward the profusion of yellow blossoms, but the expectant look in her eyes quickly dissipated. “I don’t see them, Miss Doyle.”

Elizabeth guided her a little closer. “To the right,” she said. “There’s one with black and blue markings. He’s the easiest to spot against the yellow flowers.”