Nathaniel waited in the staff stairwell to catch her before she could sashay into dinner as though she hadn’t a care in the world. She looked typically spectacular as she glided down the staircase. He blocked her path.

“Happy birthday,” he said without smiling.

“Thank you. Such heartfelt good wishes mean so much to me.”

She tried to angle around him, but he shifted and blocked her again. “When did you intend to report the break-in last night?”

“Have we determined it was a break-in? That must be distressing for you.”

“Who gave you the artichokes?” He knew about her brother’s tradition of giving her artichokes from the day he’d eavesdropped on her and Ludmila in the greenhouse. He wanted to see if she’d volunteer the information, but as usual, she evaded him.

“I have no idea,” she said casually.

“How did they get into the locked kitchen?”

She sent him an abashed smile and shrugged. That probably worked on her parents, but never him. Everyone in this house had a duty to report potential lapses in security. This was a big one, and she hadn’t raised the alarm. He only learned of it because the cook thought to warn him—after Caroline suggested to the entire kitchen staff to pay it no mind.

That smug expression annoyed him, but he wouldn’t let it show. By firing a steady stream of probing questions from different angles, he’d shake her composure eventually, and she’d let something slip.

“Why artichokes? The Greeks used them as a symbol of hope. What are you hoping for?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Who is the ‘adorable fool’? Mrs. Fitzpatrick heard you say it.”

“Don’t you think giving a huge basket of artichokes is a little on the foolish side?” she asked.

“No. I think it’s something a felon and a traitor might do. Something you have some experience with.”

The humor evaporated from her face. “You can leave my brother out of this. He’s safely locked up and not prowling around White House grounds.”

“A relief to all loyal Americans. What’s going to happen on the fifteenth of November?”

“I have no idea.”

“It was on the note, and I think you do know. What other birthday traditions do you have?”

She lifted her chin with a lady-of-the-manor expression. “People are nice to me. We treat each other with respect and good cheer. There are no insults to my family and no slurs on my character. Those would be the main things.”

“That’s what happens on your birthday. What sort of November 15th traditions do you have?”

He was getting to her. The veneer was starting to crack. “We yank off our clothes, drink whiskey, and dance around a bonfire. Don’t blame me if you have lousy security. No one knows how those artichokes got into the kitchen, but that’s a poor reflection on you, not me.”