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“Are you certain that Anne was involved in a love affair?” Ursula asked.

“I didn’t say it was a love affair.” Valerie snapped off another bloom and continued along the aisle.

“It was a seduction or, rather, an attempted seduction. The object of her desire was barely aware of her existence. She was no more than a servant to him. I will not say that I sympathized with her but I understood her.”

“In what way?”

“I know exactly how she felt.” Valerie picked up a pair of shears and cut off the drooping frond of a palm tree. “I am no more than a servant in my husband’s eyes.”

A bell chimed somewhere behind Ursula. She was so intent on the conversation that she started at the unexpected sound.

“I told Beth that we were not to be interrupted,” Valerie said, annoyed. She looked down the length of the green tunnel toward the door, frowning. “It’s the housekeeper. Excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”

She went back through the green tunnel, heading for the door of the greenhouse.

Ursula waited until she heard the door open and then she whisked up her skirts and went quickly along the aisle formed by the plant beds, potted trees and workbenches. In the distance she could hear Valerie speaking in sharp tones to the housekeeper but she could not tell what was being said.

She did not see any leaves or flowers that resembled the dried ones she had brought out of Rosemont’s laboratory. When she reached the end of the aisle, she turned to the right and went along a narrow gravel path.

“Mrs. Kern?” Valerie called. “Where are you? I can’t see you.”

“I was just enjoying some of the specimens,” Ursula sang out. “This is an extraordinary collection. I would be honored if you would give me a proper tour.”

“Come here at once. You must leave now. I won’t be needing your services any longer.”

Damnation. Valerie was going to let her go. She would never be able to get back into the conservatory.

“Coming,” Ursula said. “Rather difficult to find one’s way around in here, isn’t it? I can’t even see the front door.”

“Stay right where you are, Mrs. Kern. I will find you and escort you out.”

Ursula kept moving, trying not to betray her location with the sound of her footsteps. She continued to scan the foliage but none of it resembled the dried herb material.

“Mrs. Kern, where are you?”

It struck Ursula that there was a new and surprising vigor in Valerie’s voice. It wasn’t just impatience. There was another kind of energy vibrating just beneath the surface. Excitement.

“Really, Mrs. Kern, I do not have time for this. You must leave at once.”

“I understand, madam. But I cannot see anything except greenery. It is all quite disorienting.”

“Stand still. I will find you. Do you understand?”

Ursula obeyed, not because of the command but because she had just come face-to-face with a wall of glass and a locked door.

For the first time she realized that the greenhouse was divided into two distinct sections.

The inner portion behind the door was smaller than the main chamber.

A profusion of radiant green foliage studded with golden flowers filled the room.

She was quite certain she was looking at a great mass of the herb that Rosemont used to concoct the ambrosia.

Valerie appeared from a cluster of palms. Her face was flushed and her eyes were fever-bright. She had fistfuls of her skirts in both hands, hoisting the heavy fabric of her gown above her knees so that she could move more quickly.

The light glinted briefly on a small object attached to her petticoats. A button or some other bit of decoration, Ursula thought. Most women used lace and ribbons to add a whimsical touch to their underclothes.

“There you are,” Valerie said. She let her skirts fall back into place. “Do come with me and don’t dawdle.”

Ursula obediently fell into step beside her. “May I inquire why you are letting me go?”

“It is none of your affair but as it happens I have just received word that a houseguest from America will be arriving the day after tomorrow. I—we—were not expecting him until next month.”

“I understand.”

“There is so much to be done. He will be staying with us, of course.” Valerie gave a laugh that was very nearly a giggle.

“My husband will not be pleased. He does not care for the company of Americans. He finds them lacking in the social graces. But Mr. Cobb is a business associate. He must be treated with the proper degree of respect.”

“Perhaps your husband will suggest that Mr. Cobb book a room in a hotel.”

“A hotel is out of the question. Mr. Cobb entertained us quite lavishly in his mansion when we visited New York a few months ago so we must repay the favor. My husband will have to take comfort in knowing that our houseguest will not be staying very long—only a few days, in fact.”

“A remarkably brief visit considering how far Mr. Cobb will have traveled.”

“Mr. Cobb is a very busy man,” Valerie said. “As I was saying, I will no longer require your stenography services, Mrs. Kern.”

“Would you like a typed copy of your latest poem sent to you?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The housekeeper hovered just outside the entrance of the glasshouse. Her middle-aged features were stamped with the impassive expression of a woman who had long ago learned that the secret to keeping her post was to keep her employers’ secrets.

“Show Mrs. Kern to the door,” Valerie instructed.