Florence sipped her coffee and stared at the flames jumping in the fireplace. The Greenes had gathered in the parlor for dessert and coffee, as was their usual habit when it was just the family for dinner. Justine sat at the piano, working on a new piece she was learning, while everyone else chatted. Voices carried on around her but Florence couldn’t stop thinking about three nights ago, when Clay had kicked her out of the Bronze House.

Do you have any idea of the trust I’ve placed in you? People would kill for the knowledge you’ve gained in this club.

Yet, he hadn’t trusted her enough to talk about why he hated her father. How could she consider sleeping with a man who kept such a secret?

Still, she missed him. Terribly. It was awful, wondering what he was doing, what was happening at the club. She had convinced herself that her frequent visits were only about learning as much as possible . . . but that was a lie. Clay was the reason she couldn’t stay away. He treated her like an equal, not like a silly woman. And she was wildly attracted to him, her heart fluttering every time he was in the vicinity. While his enterprise might be illegal, he was a good man. An honorable man who lived by his own code.

But must that code include revenge against Duncan Greene?

Her father sat on the other sofa next to their mother, smiling at something she was saying. Duncan doted on their mother. On all of them, really. Yes, he could be fearsome when angry—which was often with Florence—but he had a huge heart. Whatever he’d done to cross Clay couldn’t have been on purpose. There had to be some misunderstanding. If Clay would just confide in her—

“You have certainly been quiet tonight.” Mamie dropped onto the sofa next to Florence. “Is something bothering you?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course I want to know.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Sometimes not knowing is better where I’m concerned.”

Mamie held her coffee cup in front of her mouth. “Is this about Clayton Madden?”

Florence did the same, shielding her lips from prying eyes. “Yes.”

“Have you slept with him?”

“Mamie!”

Their parents both looked over, concern on their faces. Florence waved her hand. “She ruined my new dress.”

Mama frowned. “The one with the green brocade skirt? Oh, Mamie, that’s just arrived from Paris.”

“I’m sorry, Mama. I’ll take the dress to a dressmaker and have it repaired.”

“Take it to Lord and Taylor. They do excellent work.”

“I will. I promise.”

When their mother’s attention returned to their father, Mamie murmured, “I swear, I don’t know how you think of lies so quickly.”

Florence lifted a shoulder. “It’s a gift.”