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“I am perfectly well,” he reassured in a calm tone, “but I need to speak to you about a pressing matter.” He studied her a moment in return, then tipped his chin to gaze up at the ceiling above them. The music and footsteps, even a low hum of conversation, could be heard faintly in the quiet of the sitting room.

“I’ve interrupted something.”

“A luncheon Cordelia arranged to raise funds for a ladies’ charity,” Electra told him. “Now, tell me what’s brought you here.” Electra gestured toward the settee and nearby chairs, but he made no move to sit.

Indeed, she could sense the urgency in his body, the tension in his jaw. He still wore his overcoat.

“A young lady has disappeared⁠—”

“Iris Delacourt?”

Gideon’s eyes widened. “You knew her?”

“No, not at all, but I saw an article in this morning’s paper, and I heard a few of the ladies upstairs discussing it.”

“Anyone who knew her?”

Electra shook her head. “I don’t think so. They spoke of it in vague terms. Curiosity. Speculation.”

“I’ve been tasked with investigating the matter.”

“As I recall, Miss Delacourt did not reside in your division.”

“No, she did not.” There was a grim look in his eyes as he made the declaration, and it was odd to see. Usually, a new case brought a very particular glint to Gideon’s eyes, an eagerness mixed with determination.

“I intend to visit the Delacourt family in Eaton Square directly after speaking with you,” he said.

There was more. He’d taken a breath as if to say more and then hesitated.

“Well, I am pleased to see you, Gideon,” Electra admitted.

He gave her what seemed a hint of a smile at that, but his brow remained furrowed.

“But something is amiss, beyond the young lady’s disappearance,” she surmised, noting a sheen on his forehead and the high color in his cheeks. “What is it that you don’t want to tell me?”

“The father of the missing lady is a man of some importance with connections that go as high as the Home Office. And due to Mr. Delacourt’s connections, Prime Minister Disraeli has asked Scotland Yard to manage the case, and they have tasked me with leading that inquiry.”

“Have they offered you a place at Scotland Yard?” It would not surprise Electra in the least. Gideon had a history of solved cases that would make any police official take notice.

“No, but if I can find Iris Delacourt…” He cut short that train of thought and shook his head. “No, they have not.” Then he lifted his gaze and looked at her squarely, his warm brown eyes brimming with the same tension she heard in his voice. “In fact, I believe they chose me because of my connection to you.”

Electra scoffed at the ludicrous notion.

Gideon was a skilled investigator. He was being humble. If they’d chosen him for this investigation, his own record had been the cause.

“They would like you to contribute your abilities, Electra. I have come to ask if you will assist me.”

For a moment, her breath caught in her chest as she tried to make sense of what he’d said.

“Assist you? At the request of the Metropolitan Police?” The words emerged breathier than she intended. It still did not quite make sense.

Gideon shifted on his feet, revealing his unease. Was he worried she might decline his request?

But how could she?

She and Gideon had worked together on several cases now, and she believed it to be the most meaningful way to use her gifts. And now he was asking her outright, rather than taking her to task for her involvement, which had sometimes been incidental.

The satisfaction of that was nearly overwhelming.