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We parted ways with Maclean outside Mrs. Stewart’s boardinghouse as he set out on foot to the police house on Old Stamp Office Close while we returned to Albyn Place. It was nearly time for luncheon, and Emma would soon be needing me.

While overall it had been a productive morning, it had not been an altogether satisfactory one. For while we’d seemed to eliminate some suspects, we were still no closer to figuring out who had actually caused the floor collapse. I hoped the members of our staff had had better luck in that regard.

“Anything to report about Mr. Smith?” I asked Jeffers upon our arrival as I removed my kid leather gloves and passed them to him.

“No, my lady. At least, only good things.”

“Which is wonderful to hear, especially for his family,” I answered with a sad smile, tugging on the ribbon of my bonnet. “But not for our purposes.”

“Yes, my lady.” He accepted my hat, setting the items on the petticoat table fashioned of warm wood and picking up a folder.

“What’s this?” I asked as he passed it to me. Gage crowded closer to peer over my shoulder as I opened it. It was a list of names and addresses.

“One of Mr. Winstanley’s assistants delivered it while you were out.”

I realized it was the roster I’d requested of the people who had been sent the auction catalog. “Excellent. I shall have a look at this later,” I said, passing it back to him so that I could remove my pelisse. “Have it taken up to our bedchamber.”

Jeffers cleared his throat, indicating he had more to say. “I thought you should know, the young gentleman who delivered it seemed disappointed not to be able to speak to you.”

I caught a glimpse of Gage’s amused smile out of the corner of my eye and felt myself begin to flush.

“Mr. Rimmer is quite the admirer of Mrs. Gage’s paintings,” he said.

“I see,” Jeffers replied, all seriousness. “But I believe this gentleman said his name was Fletcher.”

My hands stilled at my pelisse’s buttons as I turned to meet Gage’s gaze.

He was clearly wondering, as I was, why Mr. Fletcher had wished to speak to me.

Was he an admirer as Mr. Rimmer was? He’d not said as much to Sergeant Maclean when he spoke with him, instead intimating that Mr. Rimmer was enamored of me, but that wasn’t something a young gentleman would necessarily admit about themselves to a policeman.

Or perhaps Mr. Fletcher had sought me out for a different reason.

Perhaps there was something he’d not felt comfortable discussing with Maclean, who could be quite intimidating. There was really no way to know.

“Did he mention whether he intended to return?” I asked our butler.

“He didn’t say.”

I nodded absently, slipping the last button from its hole before passing my pelisse to Jeffers.

“It might mean nothing,” Gage murmured to me as we climbed the stairs.

“Or it might mean a great deal,” I countered. “We won’t know until we speak to him.”

But it would have to wait. We didn’t have time to call upon the other assistant that day or the next.

We’d made our excuses for the dinner parties and theater show we’d planned to attend the past three evenings—none of our hosts or companions requiring much explanation as we were still recovering from our ordeal—but I hated to bow out of that night’s event.

The Inverleith Ball was held every year as a fundraiser for the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh.

A few years earlier, a portion of the Inverleith House estate had been purchased by the botanic garden so that its collection of plants could be moved away from the filth and crowding at the center of the city.

Our physician, Dr. Robert Graham, acted as the society’s Regius Keeper, as well as serving as chair of botany at the University of Edinburgh and managing shifts at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh.

He was a busy man and also one of the rare medical men who did not shun or dismiss me because of my scandalous role with my first husband’s work in anatomy.

Because of that, and his kindness, and the good the society’s studies in botany did humanity, I wanted to attend in support.

However, the short drive north lulled me into slumber, and I woke with a start as we pulled up the long drive flanked by a variety of trees and shrubs, some more exotic than others.

Bree had fussed over me while she helped me dress, warning me I would regret spending the entire afternoon in my art studio rather than taking a nap as she’d suggested. I feared she was right.

I reached up to fluff the curls Bree had painstakingly rolled at the sides of my head, fearful I’d flattened them by allowing my head to rest against Gage’s shoulder.

He took my hand, smiling gently. “You look beautiful.”

“You always say that,” I contradicted, recalling numerous instances when I’d been covered in mud and gore, or drenched and limp with exhaustion, and he’d still called me thus.

“Because you are,” he insisted, and I had to admit it was impossible not to feel a flutter of warmth and pleasure from the way he was looking at me. “But perhaps what you really need me to say is that you cut quite a dash.”

My lips twitched at his use of slang. “As do you.”

Indeed, he looked far too handsome in his evening attire, with his artlessly unruly golden hair tumbling over his brow.

“This gown.” He reached out to lift aside the edges of my cream-colored wrap so that his gaze could brush up and down over my figure. “It’s new.”

“Alana insisted I order it,” I confessed, tugging at my long white gloves nervously.

“It suits you,” he declared. “And the sleeves…” he flicked the fabric lightly “…are not so wide that I cannot do this.” By the roguish light in his eyes, I knew that he was about to kiss me, and I did absolutely nothing to stop it.

Rather I basked in his attention for several delightful moments before he pulled back with a groan.

“On second thought…” His eyes traveled over my shoulders and the decolletage revealed by the wide sloped neckline, leaving licks of heat wherever they lingered.

“Perhaps I like it too much. Perhaps I want to keep you all to myself.”

I laughed at his playful banter.

I had to admit, it was a lovely gown. Often my sister tried to convince me to order clothing that, while en vogue , was not to my taste in the least. But this gown I could appreciate, for it was a piece of art.

It was fashioned of a fabric of pale burnt umber with flowers and leaves in shades of goldenrod, blue-green, and maroon.

However, the full skirt split in the front to reveal a cream ruffled petticoat, much like the open robes of the previous century.

The short sleeves were banded in alternating strips of the floral fabric and then cream silk, with a ruffled trim around the neck and at the bottoms of the sleeves.

I still had to wear a pad tied around each upper arm to help the whalebone-enforced sleeves maintain their shape, but it was less cumbersome than the padding required for daytime attire.

A sapphire necklace Gage had given me for Hogmanay completed the look.

When our carriage reached the small portico entrance, a footman opened the coach door.

Gage exited before me, reaching a hand back inside to help me descend.

As on our last visit to Inverleith House, I was struck by the simplicity of its architecture.

Georgian in design, the manor was all straight lines and symmetry.

The charm of the property lay almost entirely in its grounds and gardens.

We joined the queue entering the building and divested ourselves of our outerwear before being greeted by our hosts.

The Rocheids owned the manor and generously hosted the fundraiser every year to support the botanic garden that now shared the grounds.

However, this year, I noted that Dr. Graham also stood with them.

A nod to the ball’s purpose, I supposed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gage,” he declared with delight. “I’m glad to see you both up and about. All is healing well, I trust.”

“Yes,” I replied with a glance at my husband, who didn’t disagree.

“Good!” He rocked back on his heels, addressing Gage. “Though I’ll drop by in a day or two to take a look at those stitches. But for now…” he grinned “…please enjoy yourselves.”

We assured him we would.

An arch of stunning blooms—some of which I did not recognize—curved over the entrance to the ballroom, and swags and garlands of more flowers and greenery adorned the walls.

We found more of the same in the drawing room, parlor, and to a lesser extent the dining room. Their heady scent filled the air.

“Good heavens,” I exclaimed. “I hope they haven’t emptied their new greenhouses.”

The recently built structures had allowed the Royal Botanic Garden to add even more specimens to their collection.

“Have no fear, Kiera. I hear there’s still plenty left,” a familiar voice behind me drawled, and I turned to find myself face-to-face with Gage’s half brother. Lord Henry Kerr’s silvery gray eyes twinkled at my evident surprise.

“Henry!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him, heedless of those around us watching. “But when did you return to Edinburgh?” Though we’d known he would be arriving within the next fortnight, we’d had no idea it would be so soon.

“Just this morning,” he replied as I released him. He turned to shake Gage’s hand. “Couldn’t miss my…” He paused, correcting himself. “Emma’s birthday.”