by Jen Turano
“You’re not going to wear a corset tonight?”
“I’m not, but because Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s sister-in-law is on the plump side, no one will notice.”
Gabriella shot a look to Eunice. “Wouldn’t you care to participate a bit more in this Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency you’ve apparently decided could become a viable business venture and assume the disguise of Miss Kaffenburgh, which would allow Daphne to remain at home this evening?”
Eunice gave an airy wave of a black-gloved hand. “I’m more competent with organization and management. Daphne’s an observer, which is why her novels are so riveting. She’s able to grasp the true nature of people by simply watching them, which means she’ll be far more valuable at the ball than I could ever be. Besides, I don’t attend balls.”
Even though there were a million things that could go wrong with the plan, Gabriella couldn’t ignore the sliver of excitement that was beginning to flow through her.
She’d spent years merely trying to survive, and then years spent in a relatively mundane and safe position in a dress shop that left much to be desired. The thought of donning a disguise and then questioning young ladies to see if they should be moved up Daphne’s list of suspects was incredibly appealing.
She gathered the notes Daphne had composed and nodded. “Because none of us want to admit defeat when it comes to clearing Jennette’s name, and because we don’t have another plan, I’ll do it.” She handed the notes to Eunice. “But you’re going to have to help me prepare.”
Eunice smiled. “I’d be delighted.” She glanced over the first page of notes. “Shall we start with Rome?”
“Rome sounds like the perfect place to start.”
CHAPTER
Eight
“How unfortunate, Mr. Quinn, that you suffered an accident with your horse last night. Dare I hope your face will return to its former state soon?”
Nicholas smiled at Miss Emma McArthur, who was currently holding fast to his arm as they strolled about the Lanham ballroom. “No need to fret about the state of my face, Miss McArthur. I assure you, it looks far worse than it is. I did, regrettably, suffer a broken nose, but I’ve since had my nose put to rights. That means, after the swelling and bruising disappear, I should look exactly as I did before my unexpected accident.”
Emma returned Nicholas’s smile. “Was it very painful when your physician reset your nose?”
For a relatively innocent question, it was one that was going to be somewhat tricky to answer because a physician had not been the one to reset his nose.
That task had fallen to Billie Werkcle, a man who’d taken on the role of butler for Nicholas but had once worked at the Black Horse Tavern and had a talent for setting noses because of his time spent in an atmosphere where brawls were a daily occurrence. “It wasn’t a pleasant experience,” Nicholas settled on saying. “But enough about my nose. Are you enjoying the ball so far this evening?”
Thankfully, Emma was easily distracted. She released a titter. “It’s quite enjoyable, although not nearly as exciting as the Birkhoff ball last night.” Her hand tightened on his arm when Miss Louisa Melville glided past, fluttering her lashes at Nicholas. “It’s a shame you weren’t in attendance to experience that excitement.”
A sense of trepidation was immediate. “Why was the Birkhoff ball exciting?”
Emma stopped strolling. “The Knickerbocker Bandit almost struck again, at least according to rumor.”
Nicholas’s trepidation increased. “The Knickerbocker Bandit?”
“He was apparently attempting to break into Mrs. Birkhoff’s bedchamber but was interrupted and forced to flee out the window. Mrs. Birkhoff discovered the window in her chamber open, but she distinctly remembered it being closed when she left the room to greet her guests. An alarm was sounded and then”—Emma raised a hand to her throat—“a length of rope was discovered lying on the ground underneath Mrs. Birkhoff’s window, proof that some type of skullduggery had been taking place. Everyone has been talking about it, and members of society are scrambling to hire guards to protect their valuables. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it at some point today.”
“I spent the majority of the day with my solicitor. However, should I assume, since it appears the Knickerbocker Bandit is still on the loose, that everyone is beginning to wonder if Miss Jennette Moore has been unjustly accused of theft as well as being unjustly accused of being the Knickerbocker Bandit?”
Emma waved that aside. “Jennette was caught red-handed with a piece of the Linwood collection in her possession. In my humble opinion, all that the reappearance of the Knickerbocker Bandit proves is that the thefts credited to him may in actuality have been perpetuated by more than one person.” Her lips thinned. “Truthfully, I’ll be relieved when Jennette goes to trial and is found guilty of the crime she committed against poor Mr. Linwood. Perhaps then we’ll be able to put talk of her firmly behind us. I’m certain Miss Celeste Wilkins will appreciate that coming to pass. I attempted to visit the retiring room earlier but was forced to make a speedy departure in order to avoid a rousing case of dramatics, because Celeste was lying on a fainting couch in that room, overwrought once again because someone had broached the Jennette debacle with her. Thankfully, Miss Kaffenburgh was available to lend Celeste some smelling salts after Celeste realized her vial was practically empty.”
Nicholas frowned. “I’ve never heard of Miss Kaffenburgh before. Has she only recently come to town?”
“Goodness no. Miss Kaffenburgh has evidently lived in the city for years. She’s a confirmed spinster and prefers keeping to herself over mingling at society events.”
“What is she doing here tonight, then?”
“She came with her sister-in-law, Mrs. Kaffenburgh.”
“I’ve never heard of Mrs. Kaffenburgh either.”
“That’s because Mrs. Kaffenburgh has spent a good many years traveling the world.” Emma craned her neck and looked across the room. “She’s right over there, holding court.”
Nicholas directed his gaze to where Emma was looking and discovered a somewhat portly lady with gray hair swept into a dramatic style on the top of her head, wearing a ball gown that looked remarkably similar to one he’d seen an actress wearing at the Cherry Lane Theater recently. Mrs. Kaffenburgh was surrounded by young ladies, many of whom, upon closer inspection, were ladies he’d been squiring about the city of late.
He returned his attention to Emma. “Why is everyone so keen to speak with her?”
Emma’s eyes sparkled. “Mrs. Kaffenburgh recently traveled to London, where she spent time with her great-nephew—or perhaps he’s just her nephew, I was a little confused about that. But no matter the relationship they share”—her eyes sparkled more than ever—“Mrs. Kaffenburgh evidently fancies herself a matchmaker and has decided it’s past time her nephew selects a wife. That’s why everyone is keen to make her acquaintance because, from what we’ve learned thus far, her nephew is quite the catch.”
“How so?”
“He’s an earl. Lord Walter de Bourgh, to be exact.”
“Lord Walter de Bourgh?” Nicholas repeated, having the oddest feeling he’d heard the name before but couldn’t for the life of him remember where.
“Indeed.” Emma leaned closer. “And not that this is my place to point out, but Miss Maryanne Allen seems to be monopolizing Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s attention. I, along with the rest of society, know you’ve been spending a lot of time in her company. Nevertheless, it does appear as if Maryanne is keen on learning more about this nephew of Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s. That seems to suggest you’ve got some competition for her affections unless”—she batted her lashes at him—“you haven’t completely settled your affections on her after all.”
Disgruntlement began coursing through him because he had been spending inordinate amounts of time in Maryanne’s company. Truth be told, he’d recently moved her to the top of his list of potential brides because she was everything a gentleman desired in a wife—
beautiful, demure, and possessed of an excellent standing within society. He’d thought they’d been coming to an understanding, but now, since she seemed to be fawning over Mrs. Kaffenburgh, he was going to have to reconsider whether or not to settle his affection solely on Maryanne.
“I suppose a gentleman possessing a title and a castle is appealing to most ladies,” Emma continued, drawing him from his thoughts.
“This earl has a castle?”
“Too right he does. An incredibly significant and ostentatious one, at least according to Mrs. Kaffenburgh.”
Nicholas frowned. “Why aren’t you among the ladies trying to seek Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s favor?”
Emma gave another very flirtatious fluttering of lashes. “While there are many a young lady here tonight who desires nothing more than to become a countess, I happen to prefer American gentlemen.”
Having no idea how to respond to what was evidently Emma’s way of allowing him to know that she certainly wouldn’t mind his affections, Nicholas cleared his throat but was spared any response at all when Emma stood on tiptoe and smiled.
“Ah, there’s Mrs. Kaffenburgh’s sister-in-law now, making her way through the crowd.” Her smile faded. “I have no idea why she wears such hideous black spectacles. Mrs. Kaffenburgh wears spectacles, but they’re very tasteful.”
Nicholas’s gaze settled on a stout older lady whom Emma was now gesturing to, the unusual style of the lady’s gray hair bringing to mind the Cherry Lane Theater again. Nicholas had recently attended a performance of The Wild Duck, and he could have sworn the hairstyle Miss Kaffenburgh was currently sporting was very similar to a style one of the actresses had worn. He turned back to Emma. “I’m curious how the Kaffenburghs managed to secure an invitation to this ball if, as you said, Miss Kaffenburgh does not mingle in society, and Mrs. Kaffenburgh has been traveling the world for years.”
“Mrs. Bracken arranged for their invitations after Miss Ann Evans, her paid companion, told her that she’d recently added Mrs. Kaffenburgh to her list of clients.”
“Paid companions work for more than one lady?”
“They do, especially if they’re in high demand like Miss Ann Evans and her sister, Miss Elsy Evans. The Evanses are highly sought after as companions because Miss Ann Evans is said to have an incomparable talent for reading aloud and bringing characters in a story to life, while Miss Elsy Evans enjoys keeping her clients up to date with the latest on-dit by reading the society pages from the newspapers to them.”
Nicholas’s gaze snapped back to Miss Kaffenburgh, who was, indeed, wearing hideous black spectacles—the same ones he’d recently seen on the face of Miss Daphne Beekman. Add in the notion that it was highly unlikely there were two Elsy and Ann Evans roaming around society, and Nicholas was left to conclude that the ladies of the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency were up to some manner of shenanigans once again.
“I believe I’d like to make the acquaintance of Mrs. and Miss Kaffenburgh,” he said.
Emma nodded but then frowned when the sound of the orchestra warming up distracted her. “Forgive me, Mr. Quinn, but I’ve promised the first dance to Mr. Sterling. I’ll have to introduce you to the Kaffenburghs after the dance.”
Presenting her with a bow as Emma curtsied and hurried away, Nicholas glanced around the room, finding Miss Kaffenburgh, whom he was convinced was none other than Daphne Beekman, standing off to the side of the ballroom floor, writing something down on a far-too-familiar notepad.
He directed his full attention to Mrs. Kaffenburgh, finding her exactly where she’d been when Emma had pointed her out. She was still engaged in what seemed to be a most enthusiastic conversation with Maryanne Allen, one that had Maryanne beaming one of the brightest smiles Nicholas had ever seen on her face.
Maryanne had certainly never smiled at him in quite such a fashion, even though she’d been very receptive to him spending time in her company. Maryanne’s father had even gone so far as to suggest that if Nicholas would like to make matters more official with his daughter, he and his wife would lend their full support to that.
Tilting his head, Nicholas considered Mrs. Kaffenburgh closely, knowing without a doubt that the lady currently holding court was none other than Gabriella. His lips curved on their own accord because she’d certainly outdone herself with her disguise. Besides looking the part of an older lady, she was holding herself differently and had adopted a rather haughty air, one she was pulling off magnificently.
He couldn’t help being impressed, because although there was little chance she was accustomed to mingling with the crème of society, she seemed completely at her ease, taking that moment to laugh at something Maryanne said.
What she was doing at the ball, dressed in disguise and spreading an outlandish tale, was curious to say the least. But, given the unfortunate way they’d parted company the night before, there was little chance she’d disclose what she was doing to him. That meant he only had one avenue available to find out exactly what Gabriella was up to.
Striding into motion, Nicholas made his way across the ballroom floor and stopped in front of Daphne, who didn’t notice him because she was still occupied with writing something down on her notepad.
“Composing another one of your poems?” he asked after a full thirty seconds passed without her bothering to look up.
“Poems?” she repeated, lifting her head and freezing on the spot when her gaze locked with his.
“You did tell me you enjoy composing poems, didn’t you?”
Daphne began fiddling with a pearl necklace encircling her neck. “You must have me confused with someone else, sir. I don’t have a talent for poetry.”
“Then what are you writing down?”
The fiddling intensified. “Ah, well, my sister-in-law, Mrs. Kaffenburgh, has tasked me with keeping track of all the eligible young ladies present tonight, wanting to compose an accurate list of potential brides that, ah, she intends to present to her bachelor great-nephew once she returns to, ah, London.”
It took a great deal of effort for Nicholas to refuse a grin. “I see. You’re composing a list of ladies. May I be so bold as to take a peek at that list? I too am a bachelor gentleman and would be very interested in perusing a list of eligible young ladies.”
To his absolute surprise, Daphne stopped fiddling with her necklace and handed him her notepad. Glancing over it, he discovered that she’d written down the names of numerous young ladies as well as which gentlemen those ladies thought were the most eligible bachelors out that Season. He lifted his head. “Why are you making note of what gentlemen the ladies seem to think are the most eligible?”
“Ah, well, ah . . .” She brightened and gave a nod. “Mrs. Kaffenburgh wants to get a feel for who the competition is for her nephew.”
“You said he was her great-nephew just a second ago.” He handed her the notepad back, which Daphne immediately began to use to fan her face.
“I’m unaccustomed to mingling in society, Mr. Quinn. I fear this unusual circumstance has made my thoughts somewhat scattered.”
“I never told you my name.”
Daphne blinked before she summoned up a weak smile. “Since many young ladies have mentioned you tonight as one of the most eligible bachelors, something you should take great delight in, I made sure to have someone point you out to me.”
“Nicely recovered, Daphne, but tell me this. Are those young ladies you’ve been taking notes on aware that you’re writing down everything they say, and have they given you their express permission to write down all their thoughts?”
“I have no idea why you’d call me Daphne,” she said firmly. “But to address your concern, know that every lady I’ve spoken with this evening has encouraged me to write down their thoughts. Why, Miss Emma McArthur even went so far as to spell out her name for me to make certain I’d spelled it properly.”
Disbelief, mixed with a hefty dose of exasperation, was swift. “I hope you’re not about to tell me that Miss Emma McArthur spoke
to you at great length.”
“I certainly don’t know why that would concern you, but yes, she almost talked my ear off. She was adamant about letting me know how she’d do justice to the title of countess, explaining how she spent hours in her youth pretending she was royalty.” Daphne wrote something down, looked through her notes, then lifted her head. “I’ve been very pleased with how many ladies have wanted to speak with my sister-in-law and me this evening—well, except for the lady who cut our conversation short earlier, but that was simply because a fit of the vapors stole up on her, although . . .” She frowned. “Some of the ladies have been almost overly zealous with seeking me out. I was just followed to the retiring room by five young ladies, one of whom tried to follow me as I . . . well, no need to get into that. Suffice it to say that I’ve found myself in high demand tonight, and all because obtaining a title seems to be high on the list of priorities for unmarried ladies these days.” She added a few words next to a lady’s name. “I suppose the lure of becoming Lady de Bourgh is simply too difficult to resist.”
It suddenly came to Nicholas from out of the blue where he’d heard the de Bourgh name before. He leaned closer to her. “I imagine there are many ladies who’d love to be known as Lady de Bourgh, especially when that’s a name Jane Austen used in Pride & Prejudice.”
Daphne’s head shot up. “You’ve read Pride & Prejudice?”
“I have, although I don’t know why that would surprise you. I did mention last night that I’m an avid reader.”
“I wasn’t with you last night, but because you claim you’re an avid reader, dare I hope you’ve read a few of Montague Moreland’s books?”
Nicholas grinned, enjoying himself more than he had in some time. “Your ability to change the subject is impressive, especially because bringing Montague Moreland into the conversation was unexpected. To answer your question, though, yes, I have read all of Montague Moreland’s books and have enjoyed them very much.”
Daphne’s eyes sparkled behind her spectacles. “How delightful to learn, Mr. Quinn, because I too enjoy Moreland’s books.”