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‘I’d say she’s got that very close to bang on.’ Philippa nodded at the young lady. ‘Very astute. Come in, Edward. We’ve been waiting. Who is this?’ She stared pointedly at the thin man whose ears turned an alarming shade of crimson.

Commissioner Worthington. He must have told Philippa I was here. The squealer!

‘My secretary. Mr Reading. Do not frighten him off, Philippa. He poses no threat to us.’

The commissioner’s familiar address with someone as lofty and powerful as a duchess was shocking.

Ivy wasn’t privy to the exact relationship Philippa shared with Commissioner Worthington, but she gathered they’d known each other since childhood and that their feelings for each other were complex and contradictory.

Commissioner Worthington’s shuttered gaze gave very little away, but the stiffness in his shoulders bespoke of something… interesting.

I am not interested in anything about the commissioner.

Her heart gave a curious thump, out of rhythm and rather resonant. No doubt it was brought on by Ivy’s nerves at having to recount the events of the prior evening.

‘It’s comforting to know your rudeness extends to all manner of people and isn’t solely focused on me, Your Grace.’ Olivia stretched her full lips into a wide smile, like a cat baring its fangs at a rival.

Philippa tilted her head slightly as if an insect stung her neck, but she resolutely ignored Olivia’s sharp barb. Her focus remained firmly on Commissioner Worthington. ‘I believe you have come to speak with Ivy. Shall we begin?’

Commissioner Worthington looked first at Philippa, then Olivia, before finally resting his gaze on Ivy.

His intense regard unsettled her, making Ivy unaccountably aware of useless details.

A fly buzzed lazily against the windowpane to her left in the stuffy room.

Sweat trickled a slow track between her corseted breasts, tickling her skin in a most excruciatingly distracting manner.

Prickles of awareness, like sparks of fire, burned behind her knees and under each arm.

Perhaps she was going to faint. She desperately wished for a cold cloth to press against her forehead.

Looking at the commissioner’s shoes, she noticed they were scuffed and dusty from the street.

‘We shall not commence this interview.’

Ivy jerked her head up. ‘Pardon?’

Commissioner Worthington’s square jaw flexed; his dark-blue eyes were still fixed on her. ‘I said we shall not commence this interview. I shall interview Lady Ivy Cavendale. Reading will stay and take notes. Everyone else will leave.’

Philippa and Olivia stood at the same time, both speaking over each other.

‘I most certainly will not,’ Philippa commanded.

‘What a witty jest,’ Olivia flattered.

‘This is no jest. It is a police investigation. I will not have Lady Ivy Cavendale’s testimony brought into question because I allowed a duchess and a marchioness to interject their thoughts and opinions at will.

’ Edward turned to Philippa. ‘You know it must be done this way. I need you to trust me.’

Philippa? Trust a man?

Hardly! It is one of the few ways we are alike.

But unaccountably, the duchess tipped her head down in a subtle acquiescence.

‘Fine. I shall depart. But I expect to speak with you later, Commissioner. I will see you tomorrow, Ivy, for our weekly meeting. Nine o’clock, sharp.’ She noticeably ignored Olivia.

‘She is needed here.’ Olivia’s flirtatious tone hardened as she turned from the commissioner to face the duchess. ‘Ivy’s timetable is not yours to command.’

‘Nor is it yours, Lady Smithwick.’

Ivy had the unaccountable feeling of being a rag doll pulled between two unruly girls. She turned her attention away from the commissioner to focus on the ladies doing battle over her. ‘Actually, it is mine.’

The commissioner made a noise similar to a sharp laugh, or perhaps it was only a cough.

Olivia and Philippa turned as one to face Ivy, and her courage faltered.

She softened her tone in an effort not to offend either woman.

‘I am not needed at the orphanage at nine in the morning. The children will all be hard at work on their lessons with both tutors to supervise them. My weekly meetings with Lady Winterbourne are important to me, and I will not sacrifice them.’

Olivia’s green eyes hardened. ‘Certainly. We did not discuss the details of your work here, but I wouldn’t want you to abandon all your personal pursuits, nor is it necessary.

That would be cruel of me, and unlike some, I am not a creature who rejoices in the discomfort of others.

’ She tipped her chin up, a small smile playing on her generous lips at the implied insult to Philippa.

‘One is left to wonder exactly what kind of creature you are, Lady Smithwick.’ Philippa thwacked her fan against her skirts and continued before Olivia could reply.

‘I will take my leave.’ She turned her back to Olivia, nodded at Commissioner Worthington, and sailed out of the door without a backward glance.

Olivia’s mouth tightened. ‘Never in my life have I met a more arrogant, rude, horrific woman. I don’t know how you endure her friendship, Ivy.’

Having nothing to say that would appease Olivia, Ivy remained silent.

‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Smithwick, but as we are on a tight schedule, I must ask that you also depart.’ Commissioner Worthington’s gravelled voice sent shivers along Ivy’s skin.

‘Of course.’ Olivia batted her lashes at Commissioner Worthington, but unlike every other man Ivy had observed interacting with her friend, the commissioner seemed completely unaffected. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Commissioner. I do hope our paths cross again soon.’

The crimson stain on Reading’s ears travelled down his neck as he shuffled his feet.

Commissioner Worthington merely nodded.

Olivia swept across the floor, pulling Ivy into a brief hug, where she brushed her lips against Ivy’s cheeks in an airy kiss. ‘Remember, you needn’t say any more than is absolutely necessary. If you need me, send word. I shall keep my carriage at the ready.’

Ivy forced her wide mouth into a smile. ‘I will, Olivia. Thank you.’ Though how her friend could help Ivy endure the next hour was impossible to imagine.

Once Olivia took her leave, Ivy awkwardly gestured to the various mismatched chairs. ‘Please, make yourselves comfortable. I can make a fresh pot of tea if you wish.’ She desperately hoped they would take her up on the offer if only to give her a few moments to collect her thoughts.

‘Your maid cannot do this for us?’ Reading asked as he settled himself on the shabby settee and unbuckled his satchel, pulling out a tablet of paper, quill, and pot of ink. He placed the ink on the table.

‘No, she helps with the cleaning and some of the cooking, answers the door if she is near the entry at the right time, but we haven’t the funds for any proper house servants.

It’s no trouble for me to refresh the pot.

’ Ivy bent to pick up the tray of tea things, but as she turned, Commissioner Worthington stepped closer, blocking her path to the door.

He reached out a large hand and took the salver from her, his fingers brushing against her own.

The fizzing sparks were back. Starting at her fingertips and rushing up her arms in a maddening spiral of sensation.

Stiffening her spine, she clenched her teeth tight.

‘We are in no need of tea, Lady Ivy. Please. Sit. Let us begin.’ His eyes were the deep blue of a bottomless pond.

Ivy looked at her options and was unaccountably flummoxed.

She had been sitting on the settee, but Reading sat there now, taking up far more space than his thin frame needed.

The wing-back chair Philippa recently vacated was behind Commissioner Worthington and not easily accessible.

Out of options, she took the chair Olivia had been using, an Eastlake armchair with battered wooden legs and a lumpy seat.

At least this meant the commissioner would have to take Philippa’s seat on the opposite side of the room unless he wished to crowd Reading on the settee.

Ivy sat on the edge of the chair. Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she clenched her fingers together to hide the trembling.

The commissioner turned to the chair behind him, but instead of sitting in it as a normal person might do, he picked the thing up with frightening ease.

It was not a light piece of furniture, yet the man lifted it by both arms as though it weighed nothing, strode around the table, and placed it gently down in front of Ivy.

They were so close, their knees would touch if she didn’t scootch back in her chair.

Eyes wide with alarm, Ivy did just that, scrambling back until her back pressed against the velvet padding.

‘This is much better, don’t you think?’ Commissioner Worthington’s firm mouth stretched into a tight smile, vertical creases framing his mouth.

Ivy was momentarily distracted by the harsh lines of his cheekbones and jaw contrasting with much softer lips.

His teeth were straight and white, an uncommonly attractive feature in any gentleman.

He had a freckle just beneath his left eye.

For a mad moment, she was tempted to rub her thumb over it to test its texture.

Alarm thrilled through her veins as she clenched her fingers even tighter.