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It’s a pattern I can’t see.” He swore softly under his breath. “Ask Mrs. Forsythe to bring Theodora to the library when she’s finished her lunch.”
    “Frost...” He couldn’t expose her to Pandarus’s scheming; he’d said as much to their commander. Her mind was fragile.
    Frost’s smile was bleak. “Our time’s running out. We have no choice. It’s her soul, or all our futures.”

4. Miss Holt Finds the Pattern
    “Agamemnon, I had the most delightful lunch with Captain Beresford. I’m all aflutter! How long is he staying?” Theodora had thrown open the door to the library and came to an abrupt stop. A line formed on her brow. “Why have you covered your room with bunting?”
    A smile tugged at Mason’s mouth. He stood to the right of the door, the wooden dado rail pressing against the base of his spine. With all the chairs, small tables and lamps pushed back to the walls as far as they could go, Frost had left little room for anyone else.
    The library was laced with string, pinned to the walls, fastened to the unlit gasolier, caught on the ornate frames of paintings and the backs of chairs. Clipped to the looping bows of string were newspapers. The broadsheets from the less scurrilous local newspapers fluttered beside the dramatic illustrations of the News. The scent of paper and ink hung heavy in the air.
    Mason straightened. “It’s one of his experiments, Miss Theodora.”
    Her face brightened with a smile, her dark eyes shining. “One of his puzzles? I love puzzles.”
    “Theodora.” Frost emerged from the forest of papers, rolling down his shirt sleeves. He pinned his cuffs with sapphire solitaires and Mason offered him his coat. “Where’s Mrs. Forsythe?”
    The young woman grinned and she leaned towards Frost. Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I believe the cook sergeant—I forget his name—and Mrs. Forsythe have an understanding. ” She waved her fingers. “You can feel the energy swirling between them, fast and slick, almost as strongly as you and Mason there—”
    “Theodora.” Frost’s voice was quick but sure. “We’ve discussed this.”
    “I can have unladylike thoughts, but not an unladylike mouth.” Her fast-moving fingers jerked to the lines of newspapers. “What are these for?”
    Mason let out the tight breath constricting his chest. Her observations, her ability to distil what she saw around her and blurt it out, was the reason Theodora could not yet leave the Hall.
    “Are they another Valentine’s puzzle for me?”
    Frost paused. Mason could almost feel the workings of his brain as he fought within himself. Theodora could see patterns. Faster than him. Possibly even faster than Frost himself. But letting the damaged young woman open her mind to her full potential was a risk. As Pandarus lurked in the back of Mason’s mind, there was a darkness still in Theodora. Her kardax self.
    It was why Frost had requisitioned an Armstrong-Swan cage in which to contain her, in the event that her darkness overcame her thoughts. The contraption sat silent in the small cold room beside his laboratory.
    Yet...Menelaus, his wife, his whole staff could be moving around the city. They no longer had time for niceties.
    “A puzzle. Yes.” Frost took her hand and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. Theodora blushed. “Something is hidden in these pages. Something curious.”
    “I like curious.”
    Frost’s smile was warm and indulgent. “I know.” He stepped back and slid his hands into his pockets. “So...”
    Theodora approached the first line of newspapers, her fingers working, flicking against her palms in a hurried rhythm, her eyes too bright. “Predominately local newspapers. A smattering of ones from London. The Police Illustrated News , Agamemnon? Simply a rag at its finest hour.”
    Mason shot a glance to Frost as the man stood beside him against the wall. Theodora was changing already, as her mind pushed forward with the problem. But Frost’s face was