It wasn’t hard to let the hurt show on her face. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “It’s terribly disappointing. He’s been reassigned, and since I’m no longer at the White House, well, there’s no longer any reason for our paths to cross.”

Mrs. Foster’s face was all sympathy as she tutted, but Caroline spotted the secret delight in the older woman’s eyes. She put on a brave face and set down her teacup. It was time to get to business, and she would follow Nathaniel’s instructions to the letter, for everything was designed to either flatter Mrs. Foster or throw her off balance.

“Are you acquainted with Captain Holland of the navy?” she asked.

The blunt question took Mrs. Foster aback. “I’m acquainted, but I don’t know him well.”

“Does your husband?”

Mrs. Foster smiled tightly. “The Hollands are not our sort of people.”

Once Caroline would have interpreted that comment as simple snobbery, but perhaps Mrs. Foster knew something unsavory.

“Can you tell me more? I’d very much like to know everything I can about the Hollands.”

The corners of Mrs. Foster’s mouth turned down, and she shifted in her chair, glancing at the door in a silent message that Caroline should feel free to leave at any moment. “I can’t imagine where this line of questioning is going.”

Everything about her comportment indicated she was distinctly uncomfortable. It was time to shift tactics and let her feel superior.

“My heart is a little battered after being rejected by Mr. Trask,” Caroline said. “It was mortifying, but it’s time for me to move on. I understand Captain Holland has a son who is an eligible bachelor. Robert Holland? I saw him from afar and found him quite appealing. I would very much like to meet him, and anything you could do to help would be grand. You’re so connected. Perhaps Robert Holland will be my answer.”

Mrs. Foster nodded sagely. “Now I understand, my dear. I’ve heard some rumors about young Robert Holland. An unfortunate reliance on drink, I believe. That’s long in the past, but I’d still caution you against getting too close to that family.”

“Why?” Caroline asked. “I can’t afford to have my heart broken all over again. Not at my age—I’m almost thirty years old! I’m considering pursuing Robert Holland, but I don’t know who to turn to for insight. If there is a blemish on his family’s reputation . . .”

She let the sentence dangle, hoping it would prompt Mrs. Foster’s voracious appetite for gossip to burst through its dams.

It worked, and Mrs. Foster leaned forward, no longer able to contain herself. “More than a blemish,” she whispered.

Caroline waited, but no more information was forthcoming. “And is the blemish on Robert? Or his parents? Please, it would so help if I knew what sort of people they are.”