"If it is a single man that goes missing, the authorities should be made aware immediately. If it is a married man that goes missing, one should count him lucky."

-Andrew Hamilton in 'A Treatise on the Duties of the Female Sex' (1797)

There were moments, Clara thought, where everything felt as if it was about to change. A sailor's shiver, her mother used to say; it was a tickle you got along the back of your neck just before the wind shifted direction. Looking around the room, she felt it now. Francesca looked down at her hands; Teddy swirled a glass of whisky. James had stopped bouncing his yo-yo, and it hung in the air now, like a person on a noose.

Lucy cleared her throat.

"We were at the Sylvester's ball," Lucy said. "Last March. Harry was drinking with some government officials, and he said that he was going outside for some air with them. It wasn't unusual for him, you know."

Teddy laughed, although it was humourless. "Harry Winchester could never resist a cigar."

"Winchester," Clara repeated.

The missing man was a time traveller, then. Despite herself, Clara felt a pang; she had grown up running through sprinklers in her garden with Andrew Winchester. The connection between the POWER families ran deeper than blood, and even though she wouldn't be staying here – even though Harry went missing hundreds of years before she was even born – a lump grew in her throat.

"You look skeptical," Teddy said, and it took Clara a moment to realize that he was addressing her. "I suppose you believe that we're exaggerating the story?"

Irritation pricked at her skin. "No. I just don't see..." She rubbed her hands on her thighs. "I mean, how do you know it's the government? It could have been another guest." Or Harry could have left of his own volition. Not that Clara was about to suggest that aloud.

"There are rumours," Lucy said. "Some people think that the War Office has a secret branch called the Lazarus club." The flames cast odd shadows across her face. "A bureau designed to hunt down time travellers and kill them."

"And you think they took him?" Clara asked.

"We don't think," Teddy said. "We know."

There was a long moment of silence. Then Violet let out a sigh, setting her empty port glass on the table. "On that note, I think that I'll retire for the evening. You should as well, girls." She indicated Francesca and Clara. "We'll be busy with dress fittings in the morning."

Violet rose. Teddy and James both stood immediately, and it took Clara a moment to realize that it must be a custom. And despite herself – despite the dreadfulness of the day – Clara felt a small, private flicker of amusement. It must have shown on her face because Francesca leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing." Clara's smile widened. "I was just thinking that if my brother had to stand up every time I did, he would have feigned a leg injury by now."

"Well," James said. "That was an interesting evening."

Teddy gave him a sideways look. The two brothers stood outside Pemberton House by the idling carriage, their pipe smoke drifting lazily over the quiet London streets. They had been about to depart when Lucy had recalled that she had left her shawl in the drawing room, so she'd dashed inside to retrieve it. It was odd being alone with his brother, James reflected; in their childhood, Francesca had always been yapping at their heels like an over-zealous puppy, and now their wives accompanied them to almost every social outing.

Not that James minded. He adored Cecily and Lucy.

But it would have been nice to see his brother alone sometimes.

"James." Teddy set down his pipe suddenly enough that James looked up. "You know that I'm very much in love with my wife."

A sense of alarm stirred. "I do."

"And I'm a happily married man," Teddy added.

"Of course."

"But I couldn't help but notice..." Teddy trailed off, squinting into the darkness. "One of us should attend the ball tomorrow evening, don't you think? Someone needs to keep an eye on Clara."

Ah.

"I see your point," James said slowly. "Unfortunately, Cecily and I have already sent our regrets."

He couldn't help but admire his brother's intentions, though. Most of London knew his brother as the imposing Lord Pemberton, but James would always think of a time just after his father's death, when Teddy had leapt out of the carriage and returned with a fistful of flowers. "Cornflowers," Teddy had explained breathlessly. "Father used to give them to Mother on their anniversary. I thought it might cheer her up."

Yes, James thought; Teddy had a good heart.

Even if he had difficulty showing it, most of the time.

"Drat." His brother blew out a puff of smoke. "Lucy and I have sent our regrets, too." Teddy shook his head. "Mother was beside herself this evening. If Clara's looks don't attract attention, then her odd customs will."

"Indeed."

"There must be someone we can ask," Teddy continued. "A gentleman that can look out for Clara."

James tapped his pipe against his mouth. "I could ask Edmund; he told me that he's attending. I could tell him that our cousin has lived a sheltered life in the country, and she needs a chaperone at her first London ball."

"James," Teddy said. "I mean no offense, but are we discussing the same person? Edmund's the most notorious rake in the ton."

His brother looked so horrified that James smiled. "Relax, Teddy. Edmund's reputation with women is well-deserved, it's true, but he's a good man. He would never try anything untoward towards a friend of the Pembertons."

Teddy took another puff. Then he nodded. "Speak with him. In the meantime, I'll—"

"I found it!" a voice called.

Both men jumped as Lucy came tripping lightly down the stairs, a white shawl clutched in her arms. Her blonde hair was starting to come out of its hold, and a single curl fell into her eyes. James watched, amused, as his brother tucked it back behind his wife's ear. The soppy expression on his face was almost comical.

"Are you ready to depart, my love?"

Lucy kissed his gloved palm. "That was a wonderful evening, wasn't it?" She beamed. "Clara is lovely, and so intelligent as well. I'm delighted to think that my brother Thomas was the one to produce her."

Teddy choked on his cigar.

James smirked. "Why, I hadn't considered that before."

"Well, he must have done," Lucy continued, rubbing Teddy's back as he sputtered. "Not directly, of course, but he had a hand in her birth. I wonder what that makes me." She wrinkled her nose. "Her great-great-aunt, perhaps?"

"Good lord," Teddy muttered.

"I just felt such an attraction to her," Lucy said. "Didn't you, darling?"

"Oh, I daresay Teddy did as well," James said slyly. "A great attraction, indeed."

He yelped in pain as Teddy trod heavily on his foot. But he did not say another word as Teddy helped his wife into the carriage, and he gave a cheerful salute as their carriage turned into the dark London streets, whispering over cobblestone and into the black night.