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Alan had turned, and she felt his gaze arrowing straight to her heart.

“Thank God,” he murmured when she’d drawn up beside them, panting. “I was about to enlist the assistance of the orchestra conductor.”

“Oh?” Her heart was pushing quicksilver through her veins, and his warmth was expanding it.

“I thought if he lent me his tenors, and they called to you in chorus from the central stage, our reunion would be secured.”

“It is. I am.” She took a flustered breath. “I’m here.”

Claud nudged her. “Do you want to learn the names of the fish?”

At this cue, she dutifully peered into the tank. The creatures swimming were fish. But a far sight prettier and more colorful than their dead brethren in the market.

“I don’t know any of them,” she admitted.

“I didn’t at first either.” Claud turned back to the tank with satisfaction. His complexion looked better than it had on the night of the ball, and his chest sounded clear.

“What’s the little blue-and-gold one?” she asked.

“Emilia,” said Claud promptly, and pointed. “That’s her brother Bertram.”

Nina laughed at her own surprise. Had she expected Claud to recite a taxonomy? He was far more interested in make-believe than natural science. Like everyone else at the Royal Aquarium.

She glanced at Alan. He was looking at her, his face alight with relief and amusement. He took her hand as Claud continued naming fish. His strong grip anchored her. She gazed into the marine world behind the glass, the dreamy undulations of the seaweed so beautiful she wanted to weep. Or else it was the emotion of these past days, these past weeks, catching up to her.

“And that’s—” Claud stopped. Nina swung her gaze to him. He’d gone ramrod straight.

“Papa.”

“We will discuss your misconduct later.” The duke loomed by a spindly, drooping palm tree. His posture seemed ever-more rigid by contrast. “But you should know that you have caused your mother a great deal of worry.”

“I’m very sorry for it.” Claud had assumed the morose dignity of someone much older. “I understand I’m to be punished.”

“Then we understand each other.” The duke’s eyes swept the hall. “This isn’t the place for you.”

Nina could feel Alan tense. He was about to speak.

But Claud hadn’t finished. He stepped toward his father, wide-eyed and earnest.

“Mr. Bramley drinks a bottle of milk underwater.” He pulled a crumpled handbill from his pocket. “And Mrs. Bramley eats cake. And the children do imitations of porpoises. And they all somersault and dive. I wanted to see. You wouldn’t allow Uncle Alan to take me. The two of you are still quarreling.” He bunched his forehead.

Nina felt a guilty prickle. She had promised him his father and his uncle would work out their differences.

“I wanted to see,” he repeated. “So I could remember it, when I’m in Italy.”

The duke shifted awkwardly. “There’s no excuse.”

“No, Papa,” agreed Claud, somber. Then he gulped and rose onto his toes. “But if you punish me more, might I stay a little longer?”

“It would be a shame to miss the Bramleys now.” Alan pulled out his watch. “Only ten minutes to go.” He smiled his crooked, beautiful smile. “Best swimming program in the world. Geoff, you might even enjoy yourself.”

The duke frowned and plucked the handbill from Claud with two fingers.

“We’ve already paid the shilling,” offered Nina.

The duke ignored her. Just as well. A silly point to make to an aristocrat. They relished wasting shillings.

His brows rose as he scanned the handbill.