Dr. Cordell, and my daughters, Anne and Margaret.”
Griz gave an awkward smile, feeling quite unequal to explaining that she was not Miss Niven but Lady Grizelda. The girls curtseyed to her, though the older one, Anne, did not look happy about doing so.
The maid, Hilda, had followed to take Griz’s hat and cloak, after which the doctor ushered her to a chair by the fire.
They talked about the weather for a little until Hilda brought tea. The younger daughter, Margaret, carried a cup and saucer to Griz, while the older served her father. But to Grizelda’s surprise, the younger girl lingered, gazing at her with open curiosity.
“Are your eyes very bad?” she asked bluntly.
“They’re very short-sighted,” Griz replied. “But I’m fortunate to be able to compensate.”
“With the spectacles. Do you hate wearing them?”
Griz considered. “I think I found them a nuisance when I was small. I recall them falling off when I was halfway up a tree, which made descent somewhat hazardous.”
Margaret grinned. “Do you wear them at parties, too?”
“Well, yes. Why?”
“I am short-sighted,” Margaret confided, kneeling by the hearth. “My oldest sister says they will make me look clumsy and owlish.”
“Well, I think you’d look clumsier tripping over things.” Griz considered. “Are owls clumsy?”
“My eldest daughter,” Dr. Cordell intervened, “has grown very opinionated since she married. Her main focus is now on seeing her sisters happily married, and she will have it that spectacles are an impediment.”
“Do you find that?” the older asked, having returned to her sewing in the window. She smiled innocently but, for some reason, Griz felt it as a barb.
“I never thought about it,” Griz replied honestly. “There is more to life than marriage, even for girls.”
Margaret’s mouth fell open at this heresy.
“Such as what?” Anne demanded.
“Friendship. Education.” Griz broke off, acutely aware of her privileged position where an unmarried daughter was no real drain on resources. “To each his own,” she said hastily. “And her own.”
She was relieved as the door opened on her last words. Dragan strode in like a breath of fresh air, windswept and curiously untamed.
“Twins,” he pronounced jubilantly. “And all are healthy. The—” He came to an abrupt halt, staring. “Griz?”
She had never heard her shortened name on his lips before, and for some reason, it made her tingle. It was probably relief, because although he looked and sounded startled, he did not appear displeased, let alone angry.
Griz stood. “Sorry to beard you at home on a Sunday, but there is something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Use the consulting room,” Dr. Cordell offered. “Or the dining room.”
Dragan held open the door, and Griz smiled a little hesitantly around the family before walking past him.
“Are we consulting or dining?” he asked flippantly, conducting her toward the back of the house. Delicious cooking smells made her stomach rumble.
“We had better consult since I suspect luncheon is on its way.”
Dragan pushed open a door on his right and ushered her into a small, cramped room with a desk, three hard chairs, and several cabinets.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, and she saw with surprise that he was genuinely worried about her, not about annoying their amiable hosts.
“Nothing,” she assured him. “But I need to discuss something with you.” Hastily, she told him about Nancy’s hidden letters and showed him the paper on which she had written down the addresses and names she had discovered.
He frowned. “You think someone told her to come here? To all these places?”
“I’m worried,” Griz confessed. “About this gentleman of hers not being a gentleman at all. To begin with, he made her with child, which, if he didn’t mean to marry her, would ruin her chances of any respectable position. But what if he was worse than that? What if he was some wealthy thief? Some villain of the underworld?”
He frowned, raising his eyes from the paper to her face. “She would find little in this house to steal.”
“Oh, I don’t think she would steal,” Griz said. “I think she might have been the unwitting pawn of this man, only I can’t quite think how.”
“She is drifting around groups of reformers and radicals. What has this to do with thieves and the underworld?”
“Horace said something the other day,” she confessed, “about arresting a gang of thieves who were also involved in sedition. I don’t know the details, and frankly, I doubt he’d tell me if I asked—although I suppose I could try Mr. Gabriel…” She became aware he was gazing at her, waiting for her to continue. “That is