“Finn, we’d better get good information tonight or I swear to God I’ll throw you in the Seine,” I say through gritted teeth.

“If anyone will know about the veil, it’s the Brothers of Morte d’Arthur.”

“C’mon, let’s not miss the party.” Maxine takes off walking across the street and we follow her.

The boys take the main steps up to the grand entrance of the house, joining the group of identical-looking men in their fine tuxedos and masquerade masks. Their voices morph into one, like the buzzing of insects. Laughter spills into the night from the glow of the open doors, but I don’t feel like laughing. My heart is in my throat as I watch Oliver disappear into their midst.

Maxine, Lena, and I circle the house and step right in through the open door to the kitchens.

A scullery maid takes one look at us and barks something in French. Maxine mutters something polite and timid in a very un-Maxine-like voice in return, and we scurry in through the door behind her.

“What did she say?” I whisper.

“She’s upset we’re late. The other help from the staffing agency arrived a half hour ago. I apologized. She said our uniforms are in the hall closet.”

Lena sighs in relief. “That was easy.”

We weave through the chaos of the kitchen, around steaming copper pots and harried boys carrying plates and plates upstairs.

The hallway isn’t any less busy. The closet with the uniforms is half propped open. Maxine pulls three black pinafores off their hangers and passes them to us.

We discard the gray uniforms we stole from the DuPre laundry line this morning and tie each other’s new disguises at the waist with quick hands. We finish by pinning on each other’s crisp white maid’s hats.

“You were good back there,” Lena praises.

Maxine preens. “I know.”

Another older woman, the housekeeper maybe, passes us in the hall and scolds us in French.

Maxine leans over and whispers, “Time for hors d’oeuvres.”

We walk into the kitchen, grab silver platters of tiny little appetizers, and walk up the narrow basement stairs with them balanced on our hands.

There are so many extra staff members hired for tonight, it’s easy enough to blend in. No one is on the alert for unfamiliar faces. Nearly everyone is unfamiliar.

We climb the stairs up to the butler’s pantry, then out the pocket doors to the corner of the drawing room.