“Exactly. I felt that if I could fool her, that would only strengthen my cover. I don’t know that she cares about politics or has the slightest inkling of my criminal behavior, but she would report it if she knew I was sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night with the governess.”

He doused the single magical lamp in the room with a wave of his hand, and we waited in darkness and silence, straining our ears for any sign of life. “I think that’s everyone in bed now,” he breathed. I nodded, and then he helped me put on my coat, put on his own overcoat, picked up his shoes, and eased the door open. We tiptoed down the stairs, then he led me to the rear of the house, into the kitchen and out the back door.

We stopped to put on our shoes, then ran across the small back yard to the carriage house, where he opened a side door and gestured me inside. The family carriage was in there, along with a small, sporty roadster. “It’s a relic of my bachelor days,” Henry whispered.

“Aren’t you still a bachelor?” I asked.

“Can one truly be a bachelor while bringing up three children? I know I certainly can’t live like one.” He gave a wistful sigh. “Alas, my wild bachelor days ended when I was barely twenty-one.”

“You’re a bandit,” I reminded him. “I think you manage your share of wildness.”

He didn’t comment on that, saying instead, “The trick will be to get it out of the carriage house without waking the driver, who lives above.”

“That should be good practice for spiriting steam engines out of the city.”

“Very good point, Verity.” He studied the carriage house door, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully. “First, I think a noise-dampening spell on the door.” He placed his hands on the door, and it slid silently aside. He returned to the roadster, helped me into the passenger seat, then ran his hands along the vehicle, from front to back. Taking his seat behind the steering wheel, he brought the engine to life, and the roadster crept forward, the only sound the slight crunch of gravel. Once we were outside, he stopped to close the carriage house door, and then we were off into the alley and onto the side street.

Instead of heading to Fifth Avenue, he went a few blocks east, to an area that was less restricted. Traffic was light at this time of night, but it wasn’t gone entirely, even with a curfew and martial law. The city was too busy to ever stop completely.

Once we’d blended into the flow of traffic, Henry asked, his eyes still on the road, “If you’ve known who I was all along, why didn’t you ever report me?”