“Oh, no. If you believe I’m allowing you to rush out that door in that dress to investigate some blood-soaked murder scene…” She closed her eyes as if the very thought was too much to bear. My cousin turned on Thomas, pointing to the door, an army general addressing her unwieldy troops. “She’ll meet you in five minutes in the main sitting room. Unless you’d prefer for her to show up at your party in old rags or her petticoats.” Thomas opened his mouth, likely to quip about my undergarments, then shut it at the warning look Liza flashed. “This is non-negotiable. Now, go.”
