“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.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Lady Hamilton said, flustered, likely because Lenore didn’t collapse into tears in front of her.
“Yes,” Lenore sighed, pressing the fingertips of her free hand to her temple, as though she had a headache. “I am legally married to a Mr. Bartholomew Swan. But the circumstances of that marriage are not at all what I’m sure everyone thinks they are.” She pivoted slightly and met the eyes of some of the eavesdroppers around them, showing that she knew everyone was listening.
Those who had an ounce of shame in them turned away and pretended they weren’t being nosy. That was only a small fraction of the people surrounding them, though.
“I wasn’t referring to your rather shocking marriage, Miss—er—Mrs. Swan,” Lady Hamilton said, losing even more of her bombastic certainty. “I wasn’t specifically talking to you.” She glanced to Phin. “I was referring to a certain wicked and shameful publication.”
Phin held his breath. His game was over. Lady Hamilton knew.
Except, rather than rake him over the coals, she turned her frown to Lenore again. “That is to say, I know it was one of the two of you.” Her eyes narrowed further, as though she were trying to work out which one. “Det. Gleason has been most effective in his investigations.”
Phin clenched his jaw and studied Gleason. The detective’s face had gone completely blank as Lady Hamilton made a show of trying to work things out, but he did shift his glance to meet Phin’s eyes. In a flash, Phin was certain the man knew. He’d likely uncovered everything. But it was also obvious that he hadn’t revealed what he knew to Lady Hamilton. Phin’s mouth twitched into a brief grin. Like everything else about the evening, that much had Lionel written all over it.
“I’m sure Det. Gleason is more than competent,” Phin said with as much respect as he could muster, “but in this case, he might just be mistaken.” He nodded to Gleason, smiled at Lady Hamilton, then turned to Lenore. “Would you care to dance?”
“I would love to,” Lenore said with as much relief in her voice as if he’d offered to whisk her away to the island of Tahiti as a respite from all her troubles.
“I’m not finished speaking with you,” Lady Hamilton protested as Phin led Lenore away to the dance floor, which was filling up with couples as the excitement of Lenore’s arrival died down.
Phin caught a glimpse of Gleason saying something to Lady Hamilton, which might have been the reason she didn’t pursue them across the room. He swept Lenore into his arms for the waltz, then danced them even farther away, to the opposite side of the room.
“As if we need any other reason to worry about our reputations,” Lenore said, laughing, but without any humor.
“Miss Garret, I’m surprised,” Phin said, smiling. “I didn’t think you cared at all for your reputation.”
She barked another laugh that drew attention from a few of the couples dancing near them on the crowded floor. “There’s no point in caring for something that’s already gone,” she said.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” Phin said, pulling her closer.
“Oh, but it is.” She glanced up at him with guilty eyes, then sighed and lowered her head. “Phin, you should know that I packed all my things today. I’m going to go with Bart.”
“What?” Phin’s whole body tensed. His grip on Lenore changed to that of a man desperately clinging to something he didn’t want to lose. “Lenore, you cannot. The man is vicious. He’ll kill you, or worse.”
She looked up at him again, her mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “I know,” she said, all energy draining from her. “But I would rather he do his worst with me instead of going back to Haskell and wreaking vengeance on my family. You know he would,” she argued as Phin opened his mouth to fight. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else for the last few days. I cannot put my loved ones back home in danger any more than you could put Hazel and the girls at risk.”
“He can be stopped,” Phin said, every muscle in his body rigid with frustration.
“Yes, he can be stopped if I go with him,” she said. Her expression changed, a hint of her backbone returning. “You don’t think I’m simply going to roll over and do whatever he tells me to do, like a meek little wife, do you?”
That question left Phin even more at a loss for words. He shook himself and said, “I won’t have you putting yourself in any sort of danger.”
She snapped straighter. “So you think you have a right to tell me what I can and cannot do now? How very disappointing.”
“It’s not that, Lenore.” He let out a breath, his shoulders sagging as he did. “But have a little sense, will you? It’s all well and good to have enough confidence in oneself to stand up to a murderer, but really, it’s foolish. Particularly when there are likely a dozen other ways to resolve the situation.”
“I’m all ears if you want to share any of those ways,” she said in a wry voice. “Oh, but before you start listing them, you should know that Freddy and Reese have already contacted Scotland Yard.”
“They have?”
“Yes, and the authorities see this as a domestic dispute between foreigners,” she went on. “And since they don’t have any solid proof that Bart has or ever intended to murder anyone, as far as they’re concerned, he’s just a husband who has caught up with his runaway wife. I will leave you to draw conclusions about the rest of what they said.”
Phin clenched his jaw, aching with frustration. After all the strides women had made in the last few years, after all of the ways they’d proven to the world that they were competent and capable, the law still sided with husbands, even when the woman was in danger.