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“But we did say we were,” Violet said in her soft voice, but with a thread of steel in it. “That is not to say that either of us had given up hope of marrying or never visited with gentlemen callers. Only to explain that Iris was not prone to staying out in the evening.”

Gideon cleared his throat. “Was there a particular gentleman who’d earned her esteem?”

The father and daughter exchanged a look.

“No,” Roger Delacourt answered. “She had no particular suitor, though a longtime family friend has persistently favored her.”

Violet glanced at her father. “Iris told me she did not think he would ever offer for her. He said he would bow to her wishes, and she did not want to encourage him. Yet they were friends and saw each other on occasion.”

“And his name?” Gideon prompted.

“Seaton. Abraham Seaton,” Delacourt replied. “He’s a clerk at Gunther’s Bank and Trust.”

“Bram is a lovely young man,” Violet put in, “but I believe Iris saw him as a friend and nothing more.”

Roger Delacourt’s shoulders sagged a bit, but he nodded. “I often wished she would change her mind. Seaton is an excellent young man.”

“He is,” Violet agreed quietly.

Delacourt offered her an assessing look. “As Violet attests, my daughters tended to spend their leisure time together, often at home.”

He settled back onto the settee more fully and turned to look at his daughter. Electra thought she saw affection softening his features.

“My daughters spent years tending to their mother as her illness worsened. Perhaps that is what made them so homebound. It certainly curtailed their opportunities to join social events.”

Violet pressed her lips together, then slipped a handkerchief from her pocket. Tears welled in her eyes but had not fallen, and she dabbed gently at each eye.

“We wished to look after her,” she said with a bit of vehemence. “And neither of us feel as if we’d sacrificed anything to do so. We could not bear to see strangers tending to her, nor could we tolerate any talk of her going away to a clinic or convalescent home.”

“Both of my girls will make homes and families of their own,” Delacourt put in. “Of that, I have no doubt. Violet is well on her way.”

Violet smiled, but Electra thought it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I recently became betrothed to Dr. Tristan Wakefield.”

Electra felt an odd sense of sadness from Miss Delacourt, though she continued to smile. Almost as if the young woman realized Electra was identifying her true feelings, she turned her face away to look through the half-open curtains of a sash window.

She bit her lip and added, “Iris has a bit more of a sense of adventure than I do. And with her artistic talent, I think she wished to pursue some greater purpose before finding herself bound to a household. Keeper Kerrigan’s offer… She called it a blessing.”

Gideon’s shoulders tensed, and Electra sensed a bit of hesitation.

“Are either of you aware of a young lady who worked at the museum with Iris? Miss Calliope Collier.”

Both of them looked taken aback by the change of topic. And it was clear both were very much aware of Miss Collier.

“A great tragedy,” Violet said.

“Indeed,” Roger Delacourt said simply. “She was an associate of my daughter’s, though I suspect you know that. You likely also know that they both worked for Kerrigan.”

“Were the two close? Miss Collier and your daughter.”

“No,” Delacourt replied.

“Yes,” Violet Delacourt said at almost the same moment.

Delacourt’s jaw tightened.

“They were very different young women,” Mr. Delacourt said.

“What was Miss Collier like?” Electra couldn’t help but ask. “How would you describe her?” She directed her question to Violet, but she felt Roger Delacourt’s gaze fixed on her as she did.