“I find Nocturne to be quite enough on its own at the moment,” she whispered to Freddy. “The stories in that particular periodical are educational as well as entertaining.” She assumed a superior attitude and punctuated her statement with a nod.
“That publication is pure smut,” Reese said, leaning in so that the three of them formed a triumvirate again. “Which is why everyone adores it, of course.”
Lenore and Freddy both laughed like naughty schoolchildren who had been caught with the journal in question. In fact, Nocturne had been captivating London audiences for over a year with its highly erotic content. Mostly because every scandalous story contained in its pages was clearly about someone in society whom everyone knew, based on their behavior at various parties and events throughout the season. The new season had yet to officially begin, but London was buzzing with enough activity that high and low both were waiting with baited breath for the latest edition, which was weeks overdue, as far as everyone was concerned.
In more ways than one, Lenore considered herself lucky to have avoided inclusion in Nocturne. She was exactly the sort whom its author—whoever that may have been—included in its pages. She was young, beautiful, wealthy, and American. And she wasn’t particularly shy about making her presence known at social events. But it was all the things that society didn’t know about her, all the things that even Freddy and Reese didn’t know about her, that she dreaded the author of Nocturne getting wind of. As flattering to her saucy sense of vanity as it might have been to be included in Nocturne’s pages, she had too many things to hide.
A burst of shrill laughter shook Lenore out of her thoughts, and she glanced across the room to see Lady Agnes nearly hyperventilating as she clung to Lord Granger’s arm. The circle of waiting theater patrons near the pair took a step back, affording the couple a bit of space. Lady Agnes seemed to be dancing on her spot and fanned herself furiously as her laughter continued unabated. Lenore frowned. Whatever Lady Agnes was up to, it was more than simply flirting. If she had been a betting man, like her father, she would have said something was wrong with the poor woman.
No sooner had that thought struck her than Lenore spotted a shadowy figure beyond Lady Agnes, near the theater door, staring straight at her. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she suddenly felt every bit as agitated and amorous as Lady Agnes.
“Is that Mr. Mercer staring at you as though he’d like to take a bite out of you?” Freddy asked with a teasing grin.
“I believe it is,” Lenore said with feigned casualness, fanning herself as she made eye-contact with Mr. Phineas Mercer.
“Have you two spoken since that coup you pulled to get old what’s his name to confess to burning down Danny Long’s pub?” Freddy asked on.
“Only in passing, at parties and the like,” Lenore said, cursing herself for sounding so breathless. “We had quite a conversation at Lady Phoebe and Mr. Long’s wedding reception.”
“You should go over and say hello to him.” Freddy let go of her arm and nudged her into motion. “The chap looks as though he’d love the chance to be reacquainted.”
Lenore glanced over her shoulder at Freddy with a flat stare that said she knew exactly what he was up to. Knowing didn’t stop her from heading toward Phineas, though. Phineas Mercer was exactly the sort of man a woman like her could turn to for a scandalously good time. And it had been ages since Lenore had had a good time. Freddy leaned in to say something to Reese, no doubt at Lenore’s expense, as she faced forward, setting her sights on Phineas.
She made it across the packed lobby somehow, dodging more than a few restless patrons and listening to another peel of overly loud laughter from Lady Agnes—who was drawing as much attention as Mr. Jewel was sure to once the play began. By the time she approached Phineas Mercer, he was ready for her, standing tall and regarding her with a look of pleasure behind his unassuming spectacles.
“Miss Garrett,” he began with as much of a bow as he could make in the cramped space. “It’s so good to see you again. You’re looking well this evening.”
“You’re looking charming yourself, Mr. Mercer,” Lenore said, raising her hand so that Phineas could take it. Like a gentleman, he bowed over it, kissing her gloved knuckles. “It’s been too long since our last meeting.”
“I agree,” he said, straightening, but only letting go of her hand gradually. “I’m sure the fault and the blame for that is all mine.”
“Oh?” Lenore used the excuse of so many people crammed into the lobby to stand far closer to Phineas than would otherwise have been proper. Though most of London society considered the man to be nothing at all special—he was only heir to a baronetcy in far-away Yorkshire, and even though he was as handsome as Adonis, in Lenore’s opinion, his glasses seemed to dissuade most fine society ladies from considering him as a beau—Lenore had found him fascinating from the moment their paths had first crossed in the spring when Danny Long and Lady Phoebe’s problems had thrown them together. Together they’d plotted—and flirted—extensively on Lady Phoebe’s behalf. It had been delicious and left her with a taste for more.
“I’ve had quite a bit of business on my plate,” Phineas went on to say in a frank tone.
Lenore considered it a good sign that he would speak to her so unreservedly. “Business is always important,” she answered with equal frankness. “Heaven knows it’s what occupies my father most of the time.” She paused before asking, “What business is it you do again?”
A smile that was far more mysterious than her simple question warranted lit his features. “The business of searching for a wealthy bride, of course,” he said. His eyes flashed, and if Lenore wasn’t mistaken, raked her with a heated gaze.
“If I find one, I’ll be sure to let you know,” she said, fanning herself coquettishly.
“I was given to understand London was full of them when I made my way here from Yorkshire,” he went on. “Though those claims have yet to be proven true.”
“You must not be looking in the right place,” Lenore said, blinking innocently.
“Oh, I’m looking in the right place, all right.” His blue eyes bored into her, suggesting far more than his casual words.
“It’s a shame Freddy—” She wasn’t sure how to end the sentence. She wasn’t sure the sentence had more of an end than that.
Fortunately for Lenore, she was spared having to explain as Lady Agnes laughed again and lurched in her direction. Lenore wheeled around just in time to catch the poor young woman as she stumbled close.
“Are you all right?” Lenore asked, holding her so that she didn’t fall and keeping her steady until she was certain Lady Agnes could stand on her own power. It came as no surprise that the poor dear was trembling slightly, which caused the copious lace ruffles of her theater gown to flutter like a hundred restless butterflies.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Lady Agnes said in a breathy voice, then swallowed.
“Are you quite certain?” Phineas asked with a concerned look.
“I am, truly, I am,” Lady Agnes went on, her eyes not seeming to fix on anything in particular. “Oh, dear. Do you have any smelling salts? I fear I might need them.”