We both started to get up and then realized what a tangle we were in, half sitting on each other and surrounded in the layers of my skirts.

   “You and your clothes,” he muttered, shifting so that I could pull out a part of my overdress he’d been sitting on. “How can a dress that covers so little have so much to it?”

   “It might be low cut, but it still leaves plenty to the imagination.” Embarrassment flooded me as I recalled that he didn’t have to imagine much. I managed to free myself and get to my feet. As I did, my hand lightly grazed his face.

   “You’re lazy on your shaving again.”

   He rose as well, following as I made my way out from behind the piano. We paused in front of it, facing each other in the shadows. “It didn’t suit me,” he said. “And besides, I hear it’s the only endearing thing about me.”

   “It was until you brought me the news about Lonzo. Thank you again.”

   “Don’t forget the letter.” I just barely made out his hand lifting toward me—and then he swiftly returned it to his side. “I need to go. But whatever you’re thinking—it’s wrong.”

   “I’m sorry, what?”

   “About . . . you know what I’m talking about.”

   “Then why—”

   “Because . . . . well. Just because.” He moved to the door, brushing against me as he went by. “Oh, and take your letter to Silas. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

   And then he was gone, leaving me—as usual—bewildered.

   I took a minute to collect myself and then picked up the china cup. My hands were steady, so that was something. As I returned to the party, I tried not to think about Grant because that was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. Shifting my thoughts to Abraham Miller’s conversation didn’t provide any answers either. I wished I could discover more, but he’d left the party.

   I delivered the rum to Rupert with a bright smile. He took a sip and looked up at me in wonder. “Miss Viana, be careful, or I’ll stop encouraging you to marry someone else.”

   I told him it was my pleasure and then decided to make a sweep of the room in case I might happen upon the man from North Joyce. As I walked toward a cluster of people I hadn’t yet met, I saw Cornelius step away from them and wave. I immediately turned off in a different direction, like I’d actually been on my way to see someone else. I had no desire to hear him try to sell poor Rupert to me again. In my haste, I nearly ran into Clara.

   “Smart move on your part,” she said. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

   After tonight’s series of events, I couldn’t even guess what she was referring to. “What?”

   “Pursuing old Mister Chambers.” Her eyes drifted across the room to him before returning to me. “That’s playing the long game. Or maybe not so long. Won’t be much fun in the beginning, but he can’t have many years left. And then you’re a rich widow, free to do as you please.”

   My jaw dropped. “What? I’m not doing that!”

   “Well, you’re certainly friendly with him. And word gets around. You’ve been putting off other men.”

   She wasn’t entirely wrong about that. Over the last week, I’d realized that, once I could be sure Lonzo was taken care of, I had two paths for myself. One was to earn enough money from my work with Grant and Tom to buy my own freedom. That was a long shot. So, if I did have to get married, an open-minded husband like Rupert—who would respect me and give me my space—was preferable to most of the men I’d met. Once I’d settled on those two options, I saw no point in encouraging other suitors. I wasn’t rude to anyone—but I also made my indifference clear.

   “I’m still considering my choices,” I replied.

   “Well, I don’t care what you do. I think it’s brilliant, and he certainly hasn’t caught on.”

   She sauntered off, and my stomach sank. With everything else happening in my whirlwind of a life, I had never considered how choosing an older man might look to others. If I accepted the offer, it would be because it promised an honorable marriage with an interesting companion. I hated the idea of people thinking I was waiting for Rupert to die. I hated the idea of people thinking he was a naïve old man who didn’t know he was being used.

   Martha waved at me across the room, signaling it was time to go. As guilty as this revelation about Rupert made me, I would have to decide what to do about it later. Too many other matters sat higher on my list of priorities right now.

   “What a lovely dinner,” Martha said as I joined her. “And such a splendid house! But these shoes are hurting my feet. It’ll be nice to get home and rest.”

   “It will be,” I agreed, though I knew there’d be no rest for me. I’d promised to meet Tom for a job, and then I’d have to make sure I took Lonzo’s letter to Silas in time.

   My night was just beginning.

CHAPTER 21

   TOM’S JOB THAT NIGHT WAS A QUICK ONE, DEALING WITH a landlord who had plans to drastically raise rents in one of the city’s poorer wharf districts. Most of his tenants couldn’t afford the new rates and would be turned out on the streets. Tom knew several of the residents, and one of his own men even lived there. But, as he told me, our task went beyond that: “It’s just the right thing to do.”

   I was inclined to agree when I saw the landlord’s opulent home, which was a far cry from the slums he charged so dearly for. We did our usual routine, subduing servants and clearing out as many valuables as we could find in the house. Tom made an abrupt flip from jovial to menacing, warning the landlord that we’d be back if the rents weren’t reconsidered.

   “Will he listen?” I asked Tom, once we’d left. I always wondered if any of these threats ever actually did any good.