I rushed to the park to look for Lizzie or Alec the moment I was free on Friday afternoon, but they were nowhere to be found. I went to the coffee shop where Lizzie and I had met, and the proprietor acted as though he’d never heard of her. I thought the Mechanics were mad to taunt the British with their outing, and they were putting children’s lives at risk, but I had no way to reach them. My only hope was to meet Lizzie at the appointed time and try to make them see reason then.

After dinner that evening, I played the piano in the schoolroom in an attempt to quiet the turmoil in my brain. I played as though it was a dexterity drill, my fingers precisely plinking out the notes. I was so focused on the music and on the arguments swirling around in my head that I didn’t notice I had an audience until I glanced up and saw Lord Henry leaning against the piano. All ten of my fingers simultaneously hit their respective keys, sounding a dissonant chord.

“Perhaps we don’t need the music teacher, after all,” he said cheerfully. “I had no idea you were so talented, Miss Newton.”

“I wouldn’t presume to teach Flora,” I said, leaning back from the keyboard and placing my hands in my lap. “She could probably teach me. I play notes. I don’t make music.”

“I thought it sounded wonderful, very fiery. Is something troubling you, Miss Newton?”

“Troubling me?” Although I tried to sound innocent, I feared my quavering voice gave me away. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

He nodded toward the piano. “I recognize the habit. I had music lessons as a boy, but now the only time I ever play is when I’m troubled. Occupying one’s hands and one’s concentration frees the mind to truly think.”

I looked up at him, studying his guileless face and the innocent blue eyes behind the scholarly glasses, trying to read what he might really be saying. Did he know something about my activities, or was he merely being perspicacious? “Yes, that’s it exactly,” I said, trying to match his guilelessness. “In this case, however, the trouble is not mine. A friend has asked my advice, and I wanted to think before I spoke to her.”

His brow furrowed. “Is your friend in trouble?”

Not yet, I thought. Out loud, I said, “Her dilemma involves the attentions of a young man.” I thought that would keep someone like Lord Henry from prying further.

It appeared to work. “Oh, yes, I see,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll give very wise advice.” Still, though, he kept his focus on me in a way that indicated he wasn’t sure he’d heard the whole story—or the truth.