Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cobb Townhouse, 14 March 1871
“I’m never going to be welcome in those high society circles again,” Louisa said. She rested her head on the arm of the chaise lounge as Patrick massaged her foot. He shook his head—he knew she didn’t care.
“You never know,” he told her. “You could be the spring’s sensation—the girl you can’t lie to.”
“Oh, there’s plenty the guests want to keep hidden.” Claire gazed up at Chad, whom she leaned against. “You wouldn’t believe the interesting things I saw.”
“Isn’t that part of your job?” Chad asked.
“Yes, but unfortunately I’m not allowed to say anything.”
The others laughed. Iris leaned against Edward, and the smile that played around her lips said she would be rewarding him later for taking charge in the ballroom at the end and changi
