On Friday evening, at the conclusion of the Debutante Underground meeting, Sophie presented to Madam Laurent a pot of bright periwinkle asters nestled in a thick bunch of deep green leaves. Smiling at the dress-shop owner, she said, “On behalf of all our members, I’d like to thank you for allowing us to meet here for the last several weeks. You’ve been so generous.”

The ladies sitting around the long table in the back room of the dress shop nodded and clapped appreciatively.

“But we’ve imposed on you for far too long,” Sophie continued, “and I’m pleased to announce that starting next week, we’ll be meeting in a vacant building just down the block. It’s the old tailor’s shop, and I’ve arranged for us to use it on Friday evenings. So, enjoy your week, and I look forward to welcoming you to our new location next time.”

Everyone murmured excitedly as they filed out. Sophie quickly set the room to rights and called good night to Madam Laurent and Ivy before slipping out the door and heading down the alley toward the tailor’s—and her rendezvous with Reese.

Each time she thought about seeing him again, her nerves stretched tight and her skin prickled. Partly because she had no idea what he expected of her. It wasn’t that she feared him. If he’d wanted to harm her or take advantage of her, he could have done so the first night they’d met or shortly after, on the night of the ball. But he’d been a gentleman. A grumpy gentleman, to be sure, but always respectful of boundaries—and of her.

The truth was that much of her nervousness was born out of anticipation. She wanted to see him again, even though she knew she shouldn’t feel that way.

That was why she’d been determined to resist his pleas, his bribes, and his silver tongue. She’d been unyielding as an oak, in fact, right up to the moment when he’d given her the rose. Then her resolve had blown away like dandelion seeds in the wind. In that moment, she’d caught the briefest glimpse of the man underneath all the despair and pain. He’d been honest and kind—almost poetic.

But she’d seen something else in him too—an appreciation for nature’s power and beauty. Anyone who could see the world that way was not beyond saving.

She walked briskly to the green door, rapped twice, and placed a hand over her chest. Dash it all, if her heart didn’t slow its beating, she was going to need valerian root herself.

Reese yanked open the door almost immediately—as if he’d been pacing the room, waiting for her. “You knocked,” he said with a wry, disarming grin. “How refreshing.” He waved her in, to the center of the room, toward the pair of leather chairs.