She nodded once, then tucked her gloved hand into his arm, and Daniel escorted her to the center of the room, where they joined a multitude of other couples swirling around the elegant dance floor.
They danced in silence for a few minutes. Daniel was surprised how well his dance partner fit into his arms, and inexplicably pleased to notice, as he had been last night in the alley, that she was nearly as tall as he was. His palm fit perfectly into the small of her back, and she matched his every step with an agile, natural ease. Daniel glanced at her face and found her looking distractedly beyond his shoulder. He risked a peek in that direction.
“Mrs. Bradley doesn’t seem to have many friends here,” he remarked, noting the subject of her gaze. “Are you among them?”
This snapped her attention back toward him, as he’d thought it might.
“No,” she answered emphatically. “She doesn’t like me, or my family, and the feeling is mutual.”
Understanding clicked. Stewart. “You’re Wilbur Stewart’s daughter, aren’t you?”
Genevieve looked surprised. “You remember the case?”
He was surprised in turn. “Of course. Mrs. Bradley on one side, willing to pay an ungodly sum to commission a hat with Koola bird feathers from the last of its species, and your father on the other, fighting tooth and nail to defend the birds.” He gave a low, delighted chuckle. It made sense now, that she was the daughter of someone like Wilbur Stewart. “It was a brilliant defense and set quite a legal precedent. Any lawyer worth his salt knows that case.”
A fleeting smile passed over her lips. “Yes, that’s the one. My father didn’t believe the last surviving pair of that species should be slaughtered to adorn a stupid hat, no matter how much Mrs. Bradley was willing to spend. He’s quite a naturalist.”
“They’re beautiful birds, and I quite agree with your father. It’s a shame they’ve been hunted almost to extinction.”
“Most people thought my father was mad,” she noted with a rueful look. “Nobody could understand why he was making such a fuss over two small birds in a faraway jungle.”
Daniel smiled. “I did.”
A slight shift came over her features, unnoticeable unless one was watching closely.
“And does that care apply only to exotic birds, Mr. McCaffrey?” she asked with more than a touch of asperity. “Or does it extend to the local citizenry as well?”
Ah. It begins. “More than you could ever know.”
“I see.”
“You don’t, actually.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
“I don’t believe I owe you any explanations, Miss Stewart.”
“And that’s where you’re incorrect, Mr. McCaffrey.” Her voice dropped low, and he had to incline his head slightly to hear her. “Don’t forget I saw you with a dead man.”
“You were also sharing space with the deceased,” Daniel reminded her.
A look of alarm crossed Genevieve’s features. “That is not the same thing.”
“No? You were only a few steps behind us on Mulberry Street. Do you really think we killed a man in the time it took you to catch up?”
She said nothing to this, but held his gaze speculatively as they continued to glide across the floor.
“The presence of that body was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you,” he continued, dropping his voice slightly as well.
A few more beats of music passed.
“Who was he?” she asked softly.
He shook his head at her but did so gently. “Nobody of consequence.”
The play of anger across her face was fascinating. “Surely his family would disagree with that sentiment. Or the police.”
“He had no family, and the police were notified. His demise was ultimately the result of his sustained overconsumption of gin, Miss Stewart. Bottle Alley comes by its name honestly.”
“His head had been struck.” It came out in a furious whisper.
They swept past Rupert and Sarah, the former of whom raised an inquiring brow at Daniel over his hostess’s shoulder. Daniel ignored him.
“And yet the police determined the cause of death was liver failure from alcohol.”
“How are you in possession of this knowledge?”
“Who do you think alerted the authorities?”
Her brows nearly shot off her forehead. “And what did the police make of a millionaire’s presence in Bottle Alley?” she asked archly.
He smiled slightly at her intuitiveness. “I did not say I remained in the alley. My associates did, and they informed me of the results.”
He waited while she digested this. “Why is it called Bottle Alley when it doesn’t lead anywhere?” she finally asked in a rather peevish tone. They were sweeping past the refreshment table again, where he observed her friends watching them with wide eyes. Hell, half the ballroom seemed to be staring.
“It used to be an alley that cut from Mulberry to Mott, but a tenement was erected within part of the space.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Why not?”
“An alley does not offer enough space for a building. There wouldn’t be enough light, or air,” she trailed off, then set her mouth in a frustrated line. “You must think me terribly naïve.”
He shook his head. “You’ll forgive me for making assumptions, but my guess is your life has offered little opportunity to think of such things. Ignorance is not the same as naïvety. I advise you to stay away from the topic of Robin Hood, Miss Stewart, but you may wish to learn more about the conditions that led to his necessity.”
Her gaze turned sharp. “Is that a threat?”
“No. It is simple advice not to waste your time. As I said when we last met, nobody will find Robin Hood unless he wants to be found.”
Under the hand that rested on her back, Daniel felt rather than heard her sharp intake of breath.
“What do you know?” It was a fierce whisper, barely audible above the music and the din of voices floating up from the periphery of the dance floor.
Daniel shook his head at her again, just once. “Only that, whoever he is, Robin Hood has eluded capture by the police thus far, whose methods are far more brutal than those of journalists.
