He strolled through the crowd, nodding and smiling and utterly revolted with himself. The only thing he’d done right was keep Grace’s secret. The word about the baby was out—there was nothing he could do about that—but not about her involvement in some sort of shady activity. It helped that his job was to keep Evelina from investigating, because he’d been able to keep his conversation with Grace private.

Nevertheless, if it hadn’t been for the squid business—and he didn’t want to trust his alibi at the brothel until he absolutely had to—he wasn’t sure he’d have kept Grace’s fears from the police. The longer he thought about his exchange with the maid, the more uneasy he became. The safety of the family was paramount, but he wasn’t sure that silence was the best way to get it, whatever the pater said. Nevertheless, his father had a lot more experience of the world and had spent decades striking deals with emperors and kings. All Tobias knew was how to get a good table at a fashionable restaurant.

“A fine occasion,” said Bucky, appearing at Tobias’s elbow. He had a generous plate of food: lobster salad, foie gras, salmon in green sauce, and a little paper cup of ice cream that was quickly melting into a puddle. “Your sister looks radiant.”

“Eh?” Tobias looked for Imogen, a little puzzled by the statement. Imogen looked like Imogen. She was fluttering around the row of chairs set in the shade, making a fuss over the dowagers no one else wanted to talk to.

“Your sister. London must agree with her.”

Tobias gave a halfhearted shrug. “It’s the prospect of buying nine and twenty dresses for her Season. That sort of thing puts a sparkle in a girl’s eye.”

Bucky speared an olive with his fork. “And no doubt this blazing insight arises from extensive discourse with the fair sex?”

“My observation, or shall we say interrogation, of any woman’s wardrobe has little to do with shopping.”

Bucky rolled his eyes heavenward. “So which was most informative, petticoats or knickers?”

“Both were most unreliable witnesses. They came undone beneath the slightest pressure.”

Bucky dropped his voice. “One would have thought they’d keep their lips fastened. Or perhaps that’s the girl I’m thinking of. Or perhaps I’m thinking of the wrong lips.”

Tobias opened his mouth, closed it, and cast about for a change of subject before the conversation could get any more disgraceful. Most of the time, he found innuendo amusing, but not now. Today, he felt weirdly prim.

“Did you hear they’re betting on the Reynolds trial?” Bucky asked, his merriment fading a degree.

“Who hasn’t?”

They’d both known the woman from parties—not well, but enough to be shocked by the charges. Nellie Reynolds was a queen of the demimonde, a bastard daughter of some highborn lord. She was striking more than beautiful, but possessed of a resonant voice that captured one’s heart and wrung it without mercy.

“I heard she’s got a lawyer,” Bucky said. “A good one. He’s going to plead the evidence they found was all for the theater. Magic for entertainment purposes is allowed. Card readers and astrologers are exempt, so why not allow someone to own a crystal ball, if its only use is for play acting?”

“The whole thing is too macabre for me.”

“An anonymous donor is paying for a defense.” Bucky shifted uneasily. “Someone is brave, to go against opinion like that.”

They both stood silent a moment, sharing uneasy thoughts. The wish to rebel was easy. Facing the reality of it was something else. Eventually, Bucky saw someone he knew and hurried away.

Abandoning his teacup on the table, Tobias worked his way through the crowd to where his mother was accepting birthday wishes. Her pale gray and pink gown was accompanied by a tiny hat crowned in curling feathers. Lady Bancroft was tall and slender, but her fair hair and pale skin seemed faded, like a painting left too long in the full glare of the sun—or perhaps in the glare of her husband.

“Dear Mama, happy birthday.” He bent and kissed her cheek.

“Tobias.” Her hand automatically touched his face—a maternal gesture she’d never quite surrendered.

“My congratulations on the party. You always put these affairs together with such exquisite taste.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “After so long in the service of your father, it becomes second nature.”

Tobias met her pale blue gaze, experiencing a slight twinge of apprehension. “I have a birthday gift for you.”

When finding a present for his mother, Tobias faced an age-old problem. She never complained about what he gave her, and never seemed to favor one year’s offering more than any other. It made it hard to tell which ones had truly hit the mark.

He pulled a small parcel from his jacket pocket and placed it in his mother’s lace-gloved hands. Then he watched for her reaction as she unwrapped the blue tissue paper with agonizing care. Inside was a delicate silver brooch shaped like a butterfly.

“How lovely!” she said, tilting to examine the garnets and pearls set into the wings.

Tobias reached down, pressing a tiny button on the butterfly’s body. The wings began to slowly fan. He pressed it again, and a soft, silvery chime rang as the creature moved. His mother’s lips parted in wonder, and she smiled. It was a wonderful smile—a real one that warmed him from the heart outward.

“You made this, didn’t you? It’s so delicate,” she murmured. “And so clever.”

“I had a jeweler set the stones,” he said, struggling to sound nonchalant.

“You’re as brilliant as your father was when he was your age.”

The words seemed to catch in her throat, and the smile stopped. Tobias scanned her face, wanting to bring back that instant of rare, genuine pleasure. Somehow, in his infinite genius, he had managed to please her and stir an unpleasant thought at the same time. There were days when he marveled at his own ineptitude.

“Thank you so much, darling.” She put her hand to his face again, the pleasant, impersonal mask of Ambassador’s Wife firmly back in place. “Help me put it on. I want to wear it right away.”

Obediently, he pinned the brooch to her shawl and accepted a kiss to his cheek. He wondered how many hours he had to remain sober.

Too many. His father was advancing, shirt so crisp beneath his cutaway coat it made one’s eyes water. A violent urge to flee seized Tobias, but with the eerie telepathy of mothers, Lady Bancroft took his hand. Lord Bancroft gave him a cool look and turned to his wife.

“My dear, you look lovely as always.” He lifted her free hand, kissing the air just above it. “Felicitations of the day.”

“Thank you, Lord Bancroft. I hope the arrangements meet your expectations.”

His father gave a perfunctory smile. “It’s a shame the prime minister couldn’t attend, but I had a very satisfactory discussion with the ministerial liaison to the Steam Council.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, my lord.”

Tobias clenched his teeth. Of course his mother’s birthday party would be used to further his father’s social connections. That was the way the world worked. But it still bothered him.

“What’s this?” Lord Bancroft indicated the fanning butterfly.

Her hand cupped it protectively. “A gift from Tobias.”

He shot his son a contemptuous look. “I would have thought you had outgrown your artisan phase.”

Tobias heard his mother’s indrawn breath, but knew she would not contradict her husband. She was too proper to even address him by his first name in public. Instead, she gently squeezed Tobias’s hand, offering covert sympathy. He returned the pressure and then took a step away. Otherwise, it felt too much like he was a child again, hiding behind his mother’s skirts.

“I’m still fascinated by the possibilities of the imagination,” he said to his father, keeping his tone reasonable. “Not just the possibilities, but how many of them I can manifest.”

His father’s tone was low, but held the sting of acid. “Better if you manifested a career.”

“Perhaps I shall invent something that will make me a wealthy man.”

“Then you would do well to raise your sights above butterflies.”

“But it is merely a gift!” his mother interjected.

Both Tobias and his father stared at her. She had never, as long as Tobias could recall, intervened in one of these debates.

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