“Isn’t that…?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Proof that the dancing meant nothing? Especially since Priya forced him in the first place?” She shouldn’t want it to mean something, but she did.
“Firstly, no one forces Conall to do anything,” Meg said, stepping back and wiping her brush on a cloth. “Not when he was younger and shyer, and certainly not now I’d wager. Secondly, it means he was more himself with you. It was obvious.”
Persephone shook her head, wondering why her face felt warm. “Surely not.” She caught the look Meg and Tamsin exchanged.
“And did he not ask for a tour of your private collection?” Meg asked archly.
“It’s an antiquarian festival.”
“Conall is not an antiquarian,” Tamsin scoffed.
Persephone glanced at her watch fob, tucked into her collar. “And he’s never late either. I should go for that aforementioned tour.”
“We’re going with you,” Tamsin announced. “I can’t be cooped up any longer.”
“And you need a chaperone,” Meg said.
“I hardly need that,” Persephone disagreed. “I’m already ruined.”
“What if he is overcome with passion?” Tamsin paused. “On second thought, perhaps we shouldn’t accompany you. Are you blushing?” she added, delighted.
“Oh, stop it.”
Tamsin laughed. “It seems as though I shall have my entertainment after all.”
“Conall,” Priya panted,half-running to keep up to his longer strides. “It’s too early for calisthenics.”
“It’s noon.” The sun struggled to shine between stately trees as Persephone ducked into the oak leaves ahead. Tamsin and Meg followed close behind, not unexpectedly. He kept a sharp eye on her, pretending he hadn’t noticed how adorably serious she looked carrying her leatherbound books.
“Let me clarify,” Priya added. “It’s always too early for calisthenics.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“Of course, I did, since you’re set on the idiotic conclusion that Percy is some sort of spy,” she snapped.
“I’m hardly set on it.”
“I can’t believe you’d even entertain the notion for a single moment,” she muttered. “Our Persephone. You and I know both know that’s bollocks.”
“I have to be thorough. And I have to investigate every clue.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Either way, I don’t want my inquiries to ruin her reputation until I have all of the evidence, so hurry up.”
Priya snorted, or would have, had she any breath left. “You’re asking one ruined lady to chaperone another ruined lady. I know you were on the Continent for a long time but that’s not precisely how it’s done.”
“If she’s guilty, it won’t matter.”
Priya nudged him hard enough that he had to reach out and steady her when she bounced off his unyielding shoulder. “Ooof.” She narrowed her eyes. “Give over, Conall. You can’t actually think she’s part of a treason plot. She’s never even left England.”
“I admit it’s unlikely.” He wanted it to be even more unlikely than it was. But anyone with such an obsessive interest in Ancient Egypt had to be a suspect. Even if she smelled like flowers and ink. Even if she made him feel things he’d never felt before.
“Then why are we chasing her across the lawn?”
“Unlikely is not the same as impossible.” Priya hadn’t seen the fields stained with blood, the crows thick as rain clouds. All because one small piece of information was passed into the wrong hands. By an Englishman. Purposefully. Those soldiers had been ambushed. Many had died waking in their beds. “I have to be sure.”
They closed in on Persephone and the other Cinderellas within moments. Persephone looked up in surprise. “Priya! I didn’t think you’d come. You hate museums.”