“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.