“You don’t need to have all the answers.” Gregory had often told his students that. “Life is an endless query and exploration.” Hell, he’d only recently decided what he wanted to do. And it appeared he was going to have to shift his goal again since that way was now closed to him.

Evie folded her arms over her chest. “How did they find out about us?”

“I don’t know.” Gregory thought about what Hargrove had said, but couldn’t discern any clues as to how he might have learned about their affair. He knew his brother was involved somehow. Had he somehow discovered there was something between them? He suddenly realized what it could be. “At Witney Court, when you came upstairs to see Ash—”

Her eyes rounded. “Someone knows what we did in your bedchamber?”

“There’s no way anyone would have seen what we were doing, but when I left, I saw a maid. If she saw you too and told my brother, or worse, if she told Susan…” Gregory shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Your sister-in-law noticed we were both absent,” Evie said flatly.

“It’s also possible Susan noticed my frequent absences at Witney Court and that you and I spent time together on outings and drew her own—accurate—conclusions. But that is just a supposition.”

“There’s also my neighbors. Mr. Kirby saw Ash on the street with a gentleman—you. If he somehow identified you…and he knew that same dog spent the night with me, he may have reasoned that you and I were at least friends. Then, if he or someone in his household happened to see you coming to or leaving my house…” She put a hand to her cheek. “We were so foolish.”

“We were also rather happy,” he added softly, unable to summon even a small amount of regret. Though it sounded as if she had enough for both of them. “Do you have any idea how they learned of your past?”

She exhaled, sounding frustrated. “It has been a risk since the beginning. I’ve always chosen my invitations carefully, and there were certain people Lucien wouldn’t allow to become members for fear they would recognize me. At first, I changed the color of my hair, and I permanently stopped wearing many cosmetics. I also altered my wardrobe, which was frankly necessary after no longer being a courtesan. Over the past two years, I’ve let my hair gradually go back to its normal color.”

“You made a concerted effort not to be recognized.”

“Of course I did,” she said sharply. “Mirabelle Renault was never going to be accepted anywhere polite. She certainly couldn’t be a patroness of the Phoenix Club.”

“But Mrs. Renshaw could.”