He was a curious thing, that Clive Dove. Not particularly bad, but not particularly good. Flora wasn't quite sure what he was, but she new that he was someone she shouldn't spend time with.
Maybe if he hadn't tried to destroy London. Maybe if he hadn't kidnapped her. Maybe if what made him not particularly good weren't there, a sort of companionship could have bloomed between them. But he had tried to destroy London, and he had kidnapped her, so she decides that it's best to forget.
She never demands an apology from him, and she never really forgives him either. She doesn't visit him in jail to see how he's doing and she doesn't ask others who do about him. She puts him out of mind, and focuses on other things: puzzle solving, the Professor, and a London life she's still trying to adjust to.
She hopes all the things that she supposes would be most appropriate for her to hope for such as his release, once he's properly atoned for his sins. That he learns how to be a gentleman, and that he can eventually live a happier life. That he's given the justice he and so many others deserve, within proper means.
Maybe he'll visit her and the Professor someday, and she will start to learn more about the peculiar man that Clive Dove was. Maybe then, she can form that companionship that might've happened a long time ago, in an alternate world. Maybe he'll apologize to her, and maybe she'll forgive him a little more than she feels she should.
But for now, he doesn't matter. Puzzles matter, cooking matters, the Professor matters… Right now, as curious as Clive Dove is, what is the point to him, in relation to her? Why would she focus on someone who had used her in the way he had? She is not mad, in the end, nor is she particularly happy; but she treats him in her mind as dust swept under the rug.
After all, the saying goes:
Out of sight, out of mind.
