Madeline crossed Broadway Avenue on Jonah’s arm. She slid him a sideways glance but found his attention focused straight ahead.

Giving way to a carriage filled with well-dressed men and women, Jonah led her around to the sidewalk in front of the magnificent home known as Ashton Villa. Though she had seen this home nearly every day since she arrived in Galveston, tonight was the first time she had really looked at the magnificent structure.

Standing every bit as tall as Madame’s rented home, the Browns’ mansion had been lit with a multitude of lamps and lanterns for the occasion. The home was a three-story brick structure made in the Italianate manner with black frilled iron railings on the front balcony and porch below.

Madame had told her that President Lincoln’s notice of emancipation for the slaves had been read by General Granger of the Union army on that very balcony some fifteen years ago. Tonight the balcony had been festooned with more lanterns and now played host to a pair of gentlemen who were likely also in the employ of either law enforcement or the former president himself.

Jonah tipped his hat to the men on the balcony and got a greeting in return. “Remember our purpose tonight, Madeline,” he told her.

“I will try not to detract from it,” she said with a jab of sarcasm.

“See that you don’t.” His tone did not betray whether he was serious or merely continuing the joke. After all, they did have an agreement that required them to pretend a relationship that had once been real.

Jonah stepped forward, and Madeline took the opportunity to look around.

As she approached the house on Jonah’s arm, several men came up to stop them. She recognized one immediately. “Hello, Detective Donovan,” she said. “Are you assigned to President Grant?”

“I am assigned to his safety,” he said. “I assure you there will be nothing to worry about as long as the Pinkerton Agency is in charge.”

Jonah shook his head. “You might also want to credit the Galveston police and a few other government agencies, Donovan. Don’t try to make her think you’re doing all of this alone. Miss Latour is far too smart to believe you.”

He grinned and dipped his head. “Detective Cahill is, as always, correct.”

Madeline smiled, but something in the detective’s tone troubled her. “Is he a friend of yours?” she asked when they’d moved past him toward the door.

“Of sorts,” Jonah said. “We joined the agency within a few years of one another and have worked on several cases together.” He glanced over at her as he stepped onto the porch. “Why?”

She shook her head. “No reason.”

The door to Ashton Villa swung open, and Jonah ushered her inside. To Madeline’s right, a magnificent staircase rose beneath a crystal chandelier aglow with what seemed to be thousands of lights. Up ahead she could see a crowd had gathered in a room adorned with floor-to-ceiling windows that were topped with cornices of what must be pure gold.

From each cornice, curtains of filmy gold fell and puddled on the polished wood floors. The walls had been papered in a similar shade of gold, making the room feel both opulent and cozy.

A frenzy of conversation died down just as Jonah and Madeline stepped into the room. “My friends and neighbors,” a man who must be their host called. “Rebecca and I are most honored to welcome you into our home. But even more so are we honored to have in our midst not only a hero but also a man of great learning and expertise.”

At the word hero, an older fellow next to Madeline groaned. “Not all of us have forgotten the war years,” he commented to her. “Though he did turn out to be a decent president, I will say.”

“So with no further ado,” Mr. Brown continued, “I present the eighteenth president of the United States of America.”

As President Grant rose to begin speaking, Madeline glanced around the room. Most of the guests were dressed in the same evening garb she and Jonah had chosen. A few of the men, however, wore military uniforms with buttons and sashes that indicated their rank and importance.

One of them, a gentleman easily as old as the former president, caught her looking and smiled.

“Flirting already?” Jonah whispered.

“I am doing my job. Who is that man over there by the staircase?”

Jonah glanced past her then returned his attention to Madeline. “That would be Commander Horace Montlake, former aide to Rear Admiral Rogers during his voyage to Korea back in ’71. Small amphibious assault on the forts protecting Seoul for the purpose of getting an apology for murders of Americans.”

“Oh my. I don’t know anything about that,” she said.

“I would say you should ask him, but likely he’ll offer the information. Likely also he’ll introduce himself exactly as I said. He always does.”

“So you know him?”

“Madeline, everyone in Galveston knows the commander.”

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. “He’s coming this way.”

Jonah grinned. “Then I suppose you’ve just hit on the topic of conversation. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go and do the job I was hired to do. I see Mrs. William Ballenger, and I intend to ask her if she has any recollections that might be helpful.”

Madeline nodded and then watched as Jonah walked over to an elegant older lady and began speaking with her. Commander Montlake pressed past several guests to stand beside Madeline as clapping sounded all around them indicating that President Grant had finished speaking.

“Not quite the orator of his predecessor but he’ll do.” The elderly sailor smiled down at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Commander Horace Montlake, former aide to Rear Admiral Rogers during his voyage to Korea back in ’71.”

Madeline stifled a giggle and then offered him her most neutral expression. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Commander. I am Madeline Latour.”

“Well now, Miss Latour. It is certainly pleasing to see such a lovely young woman in our fair city. Are you newly arrived?”

“Of a sort,” she said. “I understand you are a hero.”

The commander’s face flushed, and a broad smile rose. “I don’t know about all that, but I did serve our country and still do, although back in ’71…”

While Commander Montlake was waxing poetic on the strategy behind the campaign he apparently still remembered as if it happened yesterday, Madeline used his inattention to her to make note of the other guests in the room.

Seated on one of the settees that lined the room was the elderly Mr. Sealey. Beside him, his wife waited in attendance to him while expertly fending off the conversation attempts of several talkative matrons. Several others whose faces she recognized as being among Galveston’s wealthy elite mingled around her.

Gradually, Madeline became aware that the commander had stopped talking. She turned to him with a smile. “It appears you’ve had quite a lot of experience in handling situations of importance,” she said, and he beamed. “I wonder if I might trouble you to get some advice.”

“Certainly,” he said as he inclined his ear. “What is it exactly that you need advice in regard to?”

“It is like this,” she told him. “A dear friend of mine is looking to locate someone who she believes is living in Galveston but has little information. I wonder what sort of advice you might have for her.”

“This someone, might this be a man or a woman?”

“A woman,” she said. “Trésor Smith is her name, but I don’t know what she looks like. And it is possible she doesn’t know who she is.”

He smiled. “Look around you, then. Anyone in Galveston of any importance is here. I would tell your friend that if she is not here, she should be. Your friend is Madame Smith, yes?”

“How did you know?” she asked.

“My dear, I have known Madame Smith for quite some time. I paid her a visit just a few days ago and she told me she had hired you and that Pinkerton man over there to investigate on her behalf.”

“I see.” She paused to consider her next question. “And what else did she tell you?”

“That she had the greatest confidence that you would find the child she has lost.” He looked away to greet another guest and then returned his attention to Madeline. “I believe the woman you seek is in this room.”

“She is?” Madeline’s heart jumped. “And how do you know this? Have you seen her?”

He smiled. “As a child, yes. She was most beautiful. I can tell you she had her grandmother’s smile and her grandfather’s eyes.”

“So you knew Mr. Smith, then?”

“Quite well,” he said with a grin. “Since I was a child, you might say.”

“This is wonderful news.” She pulled her notebook out of her bag. “Would you mind if I jot down some notes? If you please, I need a more detailed description. We have very few details about her.”

“Miss Latour, I am afraid I have told you all I can.”

She tried not to show her disappointment. “Yes, all right. How can I contact you?”

He offered her a formal bow. “I see Mrs. Moody needs saving from the Franklin sisters again, so I fear I must come to her assistance.”

“But sir, finding her is of great importance. If you say you believe she is in this room…”

“I am an old man. Perhaps I am wrong,” he said. “But when you ask about her, do not ask if someone knows this girl. You know your employer. This is her grandchild. Just look with your heart and you will find her.”

“Look with my heart?” she asked as he walked away, obviously oblivious to her confusion.

“Any luck with the commander?” Jonah asked, whirling her around to face him.

“No, and yes,” she said. “No, he didn’t exactly point her out here in this crowd, but he did say he knew both Madame Smith and her husband and that he remembered the granddaughter as a child.”

“So is she here?”

“He said he could not point her out but felt she must be here.”

Jonah shook his head. “That makes no sense. How does he know she is here if he cannot point her out?”

“That’s the strange part. He told me to look with my heart.”

“And that means what?” Jonah asked.

“I have no idea,” she responded as she allowed her gaze to travel around the room. “Oh, wait. What color eyes does Madame have?”

“I have no idea,” he said.

“Oh, I remember. They are brown,” Madeline recalled. “So now we just have to look for the woman with brown eyes. If she was born in 1855, we are looking for a woman who is twenty-five. If we also guess she has similar characteristics to Madame Smith, then I would guess she also has dark hair.”

Jonah seemed to consider her statement. “I agree. Come with me.” Jonah led her out of the parlor where the older folks were still congregating and into the ballroom where most of the younger guests had gone.

She glanced over her shoulder to see that the commander was still in conversation with Mrs. Moody. It appeared that he was doing most of the talking.

Madeline felt a tug on her arm. “Time to go to work,” Jonah told her as he pulled her into the crowd of dancers. “Remember,” he said against her ear, “we are in love.”

“Love, right,” Madeline echoed, and yet she had no trouble leaning in and allowing him to lead her across the dance floor like they were indeed a couple.

For a man who made his living as a Pinkerton detective, Jonah Cahill was quite a dancer. But she already knew that.

As he spun her around and moved between the couples with ease, Madeline forgot she was supposed to be looking for a brown-eyed woman. Forgot everything about this assignment except for the fact that she was dancing on the arm of the handsomest man in the room while wearing sapphires around her neck, roses in her hair, and a gown that had been made just for her.

And though her shoes had begun to pinch and her corset had been laced so tight she could barely breathe, Madeline felt like the belle of the ball. When the song ended and another began, they danced on.

Finally the music stopped, and Jonah leaned down. “Did you see any likely candidates?”

Oh. “Not yet,” she said. “But if the commander believes she is here, I suppose we owe it to the investigation to keep dancing.”