by Merry Farmer
“I think it’s time you left my house.” Reese stepped in, demanding Bart move away from Lenore with his look alone. “And I will be giving instructions to my butler not to allow you back in. Do I make myself clear?”
Bart moved away from Lenore and snorted at Reese. “Those are some big words for a queer.” He sniffed, then sauntered toward the parlor’s doorway. Before he left, he glanced back to Lenore. “If I were you, sweetheart, I would do what the law and God says you should do and obey your husband. Because if I get on that boat and head home without you, well, then you’re gonna start getting some mighty upsetting letters from home about your kinfolk suddenly dying in horrible accidents. That’s just the way these things go.”
He winked at her, glared at each of the men, then marched around the corner and out of sight.
Lenore took a shaky step back and sank into the sofa. Freddy put an arm around her, rubbing her back.
“Those are hollow threats, if ever I’ve heard them,” he said, attempting to comfort her.
Lenore glanced warily up at him. “You don’t know Wyoming,” she said. “Those aren’t hollow threats at all.”
Freddy’s brow knit, and he pivoted to exchange a glance with Reese.
“We won’t let any harm come to you or your family,” Reese assured her, moving closer.
Phin moved to her other side, squeezing onto the sofa with her and taking her hand. The gesture was exactly what Lenore had wanted from the start of the confrontation, but it didn’t make her feel as safe as she’d hoped it would.
“I just wish I knew what he truly wanted,” she said with surprising passion, nearly wailing. She glanced to Phin, then to Freddy and Reese. “It has to be money.”
“Then we’ll give it to him,” Freddy said.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Phin muttered.
“But it could also be the influence my father’s name wields in the WSGA,” Lenore went on. “He’s hiding something, and it infuriates me that I can’t tell what it is.”
“You do pride yourself on figuring things out, after all,” Phin said, gently teasing, as he squeezed her shoulder. His attempt at levity in the dire situation made Lenore’s heart ache.
“We won’t let Swan leave England,” Phin went on, growing serious and checking with Freddy and Reese to make certain they agreed. “Swan is a stranger in a strange land here. We have friends.”
“Friends in Scotland Yard,” Freddy agreed, taking her other hand. “We can keep you safe.”
Lenore wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe it with all her heart. But she knew Bart wouldn’t give up easily.
It was all too much to think about, so she turned to Phin and asked, “Why on earth does Lionel want me to host a ball, of all things?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Phin answered. Some of the tension had drained away from him once Bart was out of the room, but Lenore still couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or had forgiven her. “He seemed to feel there was some degree of urgency in the matter, though.”
Lenore laughed in spite of herself, shaking her head. “Is the phenomenon of emergency balls a new fad in London these days?” she asked. “First, we plan an emergency ball for Phoebe and Danny Long. Now we’re planning one for Lionel?”
Phin’s hand tightened around hers. “I trust my brother.” He paused, looking suddenly guilty. “We were paid a visit by Lady Hamilton’s bulldog of a private investigator last night. I believe the ball has something to do with his plan to put Lady Hamilton’s nose back in joint.”
“I’d forgotten all about that,” Lenore said, letting go of both Phin and Freddy’s hands so that she could rub her pounding head. “If it’s not the frying pan, it’s the fire.”
“Troubles rarely come one at a time,” Reese sighed, looking as wrung out by everything as Lenore felt.
“If they come, then we’ll face them all together and defeat them,” Freddy said, the most confident one among them, for a change. “We have so many advantages over Mr. Swan that I can’t begin to even count them all.”
“Perhaps,” Lenore said warily. “But Bart is ruthless, and unlike you lovely lot, he is capable of murder to get what he wants.”
“He’s not the only one willing to go to extreme measures,” Phin said in a voice so deadly it would have filled Lenore with confidence, if she didn’t worry he still blamed her for all the things that had gone wrong.
Chapter 17
Phin had to give Lenore credit. She managed to throw together a ball that was attended by hundreds of London’s finest within just a matter of days. So many people responded to their last-minute invitations saying they would attend that the location of the ball had to be moved from Reese’s townhouse to that of Lord and Lady O’Shea. Even at the larger venue, men and women in brilliant fashions, groomed and decorated to within an inch of their lives, packed every spare inch of Lady O’Shea’s ballroom, spilling out into the hall and the adjoining parlors, where refreshments were being served. And it wasn’t even the season.
“This is exactly what I’d hoped for,” Lionel said with a leonine grin as he stood beside Phin, surveying the guests.
Phin turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “You expected a crush? London’s high and mighty making so much noise that I can’t even hear myself think?”
“Exactly.” Lionel clapped his delicate yet powerful hands together and sent a triumphant smile across the room, as if the ball were entirely his doing, from conception to execution. He’d offered Lenore his assistance throughout the process, but credit for the evening rested entirely on Lenore and Henrietta O’Shea’s shoulders. “Just you watch what happens here tonight,” Lionel continued, like a side-show barker about to pull back a curtain to reveal a curiosity.
Phin sent his brother a wary look. He was far less certain of the scheme, far less certain of just about everything, than Lionel was. He might have felt more confident in the plan if Lionel had given him even the slightest hint about what it was, but tipping his hand before he played his cards most certainly wasn’t Lionel’s style.
But more than that, Phin worried about Lenore. She had yet to arrive at the ball, though it was clear everyone had rushed to rearrange their plans and attend so that they could gawk at her. Word of her preexisting marriage to Swan had run through London like wildfire, and since neither Lenore nor Freddy nor anyone associated with them had bothered to contradict the rumor, it was assumed to be true. Of course, it was true, but Phin had the feeling half of London had shown up that night to have the truth confirmed.
“Take a turn about the room,” Lionel said, forcing Phin out of his thoughts. He glanced to Phin with a sideways look of understanding, but enough confidence in his eyes to make Phin wonder if there wasn’t some sort of surprise waiting for him elsewhere in the ballroom. “It’ll do you a world of good,” Lionel went on, shoving Phin’s arm slightly. “I think things in that direction are particularly interesting.” He nodded toward the far corner.
Phin sighed and met Lionel’s eyes as if to say he would pay if the whole thing went pear-shaped, but stepped away to do as he was told all the same.
Lady O’Shea had done a surprisingly good job of decorating in the impossibly short amount of time she’d had to get ready. Autumn flowers and boughs of orange and russet leaves festooned the room. Enough of the guests had dressed in corresponding colors that the ball had a decidedly harvest flavor. It reminded Phin of the country dances he, Lionel, Hazel, and the girls had attended before they’d all grown up and settled into a decidedly more complicated life. Part of him wondered if that was the message Lionel was sending, that life went on, seasons changed, and balls would still be balls, no matter how tangled his personal life became.
A flurry of giggles from a cluster of debutantes caught Phin’s attention as he made it to one of the corners of the room. One, casual glance revealed that the otherwise respectable ladies were clustered around a copy of Nocturne. Phin wasn’t sure if he should wince or feel proud that his
work was still a profitable diversion for himself and Jameson. He inched close enough to the ladies to discover they were reading the latest edition of the periodical, the one he’d dropped off with Jameson before his world turned upside down as a way to divert attention from his ill-thought-out story centering around Lady Agnes.
He moved on around the room, spotting at least two more clandestine groups of ladies—and one red-faced gentleman—reading the latest issue. Perhaps things would blow over with Nocturne after all. Society was always hungry for the next scandal, which meant they were willing to drop the previous one as long as—
“Don’t you leer at my daughter like that, sir,” Lady Hamilton’s voice snapped all too near to where Phin walked. “I know what you’re thinking, don’t think I don’t.”
Phin grimaced and stepped carefully behind a stout lord who was chattering away with a pair of middle-aged ladies so that he could watch Lady Hamilton without immediate risk of being seen in return. So help him, if Lionel had deliberately tossed him into Lady Hamilton’s path as a way to amuse himself, brother or no, Phin would wring his neck. Lady Hamilton was as bombastic a presence in the ballroom as she always was, dressed in peacock blue with plumes from the same bird adorning her head. But what caught Phin’s attention even more than her was Lady Agnes standing half a step behind her mother.
Lady Agnes was dressed in a greener shade of the same peacock colors, but wore them far more elegantly. Her eyes were downcast, though, and her face was bright pink. She had the look of a woman who wanted to be anywhere but where she was. Phin instantly recalled what Lenore had said about her friend who had a mortal fear of crowds. Lady Agnes certainly looked as though she were about to expire with misery.
“I know what sort of evil thoughts men have these days,” Lady Hamilton blustered on to the hapless gentleman she’d cornered. Phin wondered what the poor man had done to get Lady Hamilton’s attention. “My Agnes is an angel, pure and beautiful. She does not deserve the wicked things I know you are thinking about her after that horrid publication.”
“Mama,” Lady Agnes whispered, barely loud enough for Phin to hear. “Please stop reminding people. They would forget if not for you.”
Phin was inclined to agree with her. His guilty conscience pricked him to do something, to save Lady Agnes from her mother. He even went so far as to take a step forward before Lionel appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and executed a strange turn as he passed Lady Agnes. The result was that he trod on the hem of her gown, knocking her very slightly off balance.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon.” Lionel instantly apologized, turning to Lady Agnes and making a fuss. “How clumsy of me. But I must say—” His expression filled with genuine pleasure. “—that gown is exquisite. Don’t you think so, Lord Compton?”
Lionel stepped gracefully to the side, maneuvering a young man with reddish hair and freckles that Phin wouldn’t have noticed if he’d been standing inches away from him directly into Lady Agnes’s view.
“You l-l-look l-l-lovely,” the man struggled to say, blushing up a storm and gazing at Lady Agnes as though she’d arrived at the ball on a clamshell, escorted by the east wind.
Phin frowned, wondering what the hell his brother was up to. His Lord Compton was pale and slight and looked as though he would shriek at the sight of a spider. He certainly wasn’t the sort of man who—
“Do you really think so?” Lady Agnes asked, her eyes shining at the compliment as though it had come from the queen herself.
“Y-y-yes,” Lord Compton stuttered. “I n-n-noticed you from ac-c-cross the—” He let out a frustrated breath, lowering his head.
“You must excuse my friend,” Lionel cut in. “He has an unfortunate speech impediment. That is why he abhors crowds and generally doesn’t attend balls or any sort of event where he would be called upon to speak. He’s such a homebody, in spite of being heir to an earldom with a considerable income, aren’t you Victor.”
Lord Compton looked mortified, but Lady Agnes inched closer to him, actually smiling for a change. “I don’t care much for crowds either. And I detest balls.” She glanced over her shoulder at her mother.
“W-w-would you care to adjourn t-t-to one of the p-p-parlors?” Lord Compton asked.
Lady Agnes beamed with relief. She checked with her mother again.
“As long as the parlor in question is well-chaperoned,” Lady Hamilton said, her eyes narrowed slightly…at Lionel. The woman might have been a harpy, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Thank you, Mama,” Lady Agnes said, slipping her gloved hand into Lord Compton’s arm when he offered it.
“Well done, Lionel,” Phin murmured.
Lionel glanced his way as if he’d heard. He flashed Phin a smug smile, then bowed slightly, as though finishing a particularly riveting monologue on the stage. Phin assumed the introduction of Lady Agnes and Lord Compton was the entire reason Lionel had inconvenienced Lenore and Lady O’Shea, and had dragged half of London out of their homes on a blustery October evening. But as mad as the plot was, it filled Phin with relief. If the mad scheme to find a suitable husband for Lady Agnes worked, perhaps Lady Hamilton would give up her pursuit of Phin, and perhaps his conscience could ease up a little.
Hard on the heels of that thought, every conversation in the ballroom flashed to excited murmuring, and tension filled the air. Phin turned, along with everyone else, toward the doorway, completely unsurprised to find that Lenore had arrived. She held Freddy’s arm and Reese flanked her other side, but as encouraging as the show of unwavering support was, Phin knew he was the one who should be standing by Lenore’s side.
He started across the room, dodging around guests who burst into tight whispers as gossip filled the air. Someone must have signaled for the orchestra to play, but even their lilting hint that the guests should start dancing did nothing to calm the excitement.
“I heard she’s married to a cowboy from the Wild West,” someone hissed as Phin marched past.
“No, she’s married to one of those industrialists, a steel tycoon,” someone else said.
“I heard she’s married to a nobody and that she fled to England to escape things that are too horrible to mention,” a red-faced matron said, fanning herself furiously.
Phin scowled and picked up his pace, more determined to stand by Lenore than ever.
“How bad is it?” Lenore asked as soon as he reached her side. She was clever enough to know everyone would be talking about her.
“It’s what you would have expected,” Phin said, not bothering with greetings.
“That bad?” Lenore grimaced.
“Oh, look. I see Henrietta and Fergus. Let’s see what they have to say about things.” Freddy glanced across Lenore to Reese, then grinned at Phin. He and Reese moved away from Lenore, leaving Phin to claim their place as her protector.
It was a statement that wasn’t lost on Phin, and as he offered Lenore his arm to show her around the room, a whole new flurry of gossip started up.
“I was wondering how you boys were going to manage the hand-off,” Lenore laughed, shaking her head.
“You thought there would be a hand-off?” Phin’s brow rose. He suddenly felt far happier than he should have with dozens of whispers giving birth to a bevy of rumors around him.
“Of course,” Lenore shrugged. “Why settle for one scandal when you can have two, or three or eight or who knows how many? Freddy was bound to throw me over eventually, since we had no intention of marrying in the first place.”
“So why not toss another suitor into the mix?” Phin asked, keeping his voice low enough so that only she could hear it.
She sent him a smile that would have been scintillating and clever under any other circumstances. “I see you know the way of these things.”
“I do,” he answered.
They were bantering, teasing each other. It could have been charming and arousing. They could have baited each other, working each other into levels of desire that would have made it obscene fo
r them to be in company. A fortnight ago, that would have been precisely how they would have behaved. But too much water had flooded out the bridge. Pride wouldn’t let him give up his hurt entirely, although his heart longed for things to be smooth between him and Lenore again.
“Any idea why your brother insisted I host this ball?” Lenore whispered, putting on a smile and nodding at a few members of the May Flowers who acknowledged her, but didn’t try to engage her in conversation, as she and Phin passed them.
“He’s found a suitor for Lady Agnes, apparently,” Phin muttered in return.
“Yes, I saw them leaving just before we entered the room,” Lenore said. “Do you think that’s the only reason—”
“Well, well. Look who has arrived at last.” They were stopped in their tracks by none other than Lady Hamilton. She must not have noticed Phin loitering near her earlier. Then again, Phin hadn’t noticed that she had Det. Gleason with her, but there the man was.
“Mr. Mercer, Miss Garrett.” Det. Gleason nodded to them, then sent a look to Lady Hamilton that was hard for Phin to read. The man might have been trying to tell them something.
Before he could ask any questions to find out, Lady Hamilton drew herself up to her full height so that she could stare down her nose at both Phin and Lenore. “I know the truth,” she said as if on stage, about to reveal who the murderer was.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Hamilton?” Lenore asked, her face going bright red with what Phin recognized as a combination of anger and embarrassment.
Phin sent a covert glance around them, loathing how many people were listening in on the confrontation.
“You cannot keep your wicked secret from me anymore,” Lady Hamilton went on, playing to the crowd instead of avoiding them. “My faithful friend here has discovered you at last.” She gestured to Det. Gleason.
Gleason glanced warily at Lady Hamilton and heaved a small sigh.
Before he could say anything, Lenore hissed, “All of London is aware of my previous marriage, Lady Hamilton. You hardly need a detective to figure it out.”
