“Leonora Wemyss—I’m Trentham’s wife.” Leonora waved vaguely at her husband, too, and pressed Alicia’s hand. “Are your family quite all right?”
Alicia found a smile. “Yes—I believe so.” She gestured to the drawing room.
“It’s quite insupportable,” Kit declared. “We’ve come to help.”
“Indeed.” Leonora turned to the drawing room. “This is going to need action to set right.”
Together, the three entered the drawing room. The door shut behind them.
All six men in the front hall stared at the door, then glanced, briefly, at each other.
Dalziel sighed, pityingly or so they all took it, and turned to Tony. “I take it you have whatever Bow Street’s minions were sent to find?”
“Yes.” Succinctly, Tony described the letters, and how they fitted the scenario they now thought most likely, confirming that A. C. had used Ruskin’s information to arrange for merchantmen to be captured by the enemy.
At the end of his explanation, Dalziel, still and silent, stared out, unseeing, through the open door. Then, quietly, he said, “I want him.”
He glanced at Tony, then at the others. “I don’t care what you have to do—I want to know who A. C. is. As soon as possible. You have my full authority, and as for Whitley, suffice to say he’s ropeable. If you have need of his name, you have permission to use that, too.”
Briefly, he glanced at them again, then nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.”
He walked to the door. On the threshold he paused, and looked back. At Tony. “Incidentally, the information against Mrs. Carrington—there’s no way to trace it. I’ve tried. Whoever this man is, he’s extremely well connected—he knew exactly in whose ears to plant his seeds. When asked, every concerned soul said they heard it from someone else. I’ll continue to keep my ears open, but don’t expect any breakthrough on that front.”
Tony inclined his head.
Dalziel left, going lightly down the steps, then striding away along the street.
The five men in the front hall remained where they were until his footsteps had faded, then all dragged in a breath and glanced at each other.
“I’m suddenly very grateful I only had to deal with Whitley,” Jack said.
“Indeed, you should be.” Tony stepped forward and shut the door.
Charles met Tony’s gaze as he rejoined them, then glanced at Christian and Tristan. “How did he know?”
Christian raised his brows, openly resigned. “I suspect he knows one of our staff at the club rather well, don’t you?”
“Our club?” Charles looked pained. After a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about that.”
Tristan clapped him on the shoulder.
They turned to the drawing room. The door opened; Maggs, Scully, Jenkins, Cook, and Fitchett all slipped out, bobbing before disappearing through the green baize door.
With a glance, Tony halted Maggs. “Check the parlor—I doubt the good inspector’s men had time to put their mess right.”
Maggs nodded and headed down the corridor.
Tristan opened the drawing-room door and led the gentlemen in.
Kit and Leonora were seated in armchairs facing Alicia and Adriana on the chaise. All four heads were together; they glanced up as the men entered, but the comments that clearly hovered on their tongues had to wait—the three boys had been crowding around the front window; seeing Tony, they flung themselves at him.
“Are they gone?”
“What did they want?”
“Who was that man? The one who just left.”
Tony looked down into three pairs of hazel eyes, all very like Alicia’s. When he didn’t immediately reply, Matthew tugged at his sleeve.
“You promised to tell us.”
He smiled and hunkered down to be more on their level. “Yes, they’ve gone, and they won’t be coming back. They’d been given false information, and thought there were documents hidden here—those letters I found. That’s what they were searching for. And that man who just left was from the government—he came to tell them they’d made a big mistake, and that they weren’t to bother you or your sisters anymore.”
Three pairs of eyes searched his, then all three boys smiled.
“Good!” Harry said. “It might be exciting, but they weren’t nice.”
“And they worry Alicia and Adriana,” David whispered.
Both his younger brothers nodded solemnly.
Smiling, Tony rose, ruffling Matthew’s hair. “You’ll do.” He exchanged a fleeting glance with Alicia; with her eyes, she indicated upstairs. He looked back at the boys. “Now you’d better go and see if they searched your rooms.” He lowered his voice. “You could help Jenkins and Maggs make sure there’s nothing around to upset your sisters.”
The boys exchanged glances. Solemnly nodded again.
They looked at Alicia. “We’re going upstairs,” David said.
She smiled encouragingly. “You can come down for tea.”
Everyone waited while the three boys filed out and closed the door behind them.
“Thank heavens,” Kit said. She looked at the men, still standing in a loose gathering in the center of the room.
“Now! We need to move quickly on this. The damage has to be contained—better yet, turned around.”
Jack and Tristan strolled forward.
Tristan shrugged. “I don’t know that it’s all that serious.” He glanced at the other men. “I can’t see that A. C. is likely to gain much from this—”
“Not your investigation!” Leonora glared at him. “That isn’t what we’re concerned about.”
Tristan blinked at her. “What, then?”
“Why the potential social disaster, of course!”
They were right—that was the most urgent threat arising from Sprigs’s visit; this time, Bow Street had come calling in daylight, and there’d been considerable activity visible from the street. Luckily, their counterstrategy was easy to devise and quickly set in train. Aside from Alicia and Adriana, there were seven of them in the room; each had multiple contacts among the grandes dames, contacts they normally avoided, yet contacts who, in this instance, once they were apprised of the situation, were very ready to come to their collective aid.
By the time that evening’s entertainments commenced, all was in place, the cannons primed.
Tony, accompanied by Geoffrey, made privy to the latest developments, escorted the ravishing Mrs. Carrington and her even more ravishing sister to a formal dinner, followed by three major balls.
They’d barely entered the first ballroom, Lady Selwyn’s, when he overheard his godmother spreading the word.
“It is quite beyond the pale!” Lady Amery’s tones were hushed yet outraged. “This secretive gentleman seeks to manipulate us, those of the haut ton, with rumors and sly tricks, to make us turn on Mrs. Carrington and drive her from town so that her fleeing our wrath will appear an admission of guilt, and so confuse the authorities and hide his infamous deeds.”
Lady Amery twitched her shawl straight, both the action and her expression indicating absolute disgust. “It is beyond anything that a gentleman should seek to use us thus.”
Wide-eyed, the Countess of Hereford had been drinking in her eloquence. “So none of the rumors is true?”
“Pshaw!” Lady Amery flicked her fingers. “Nothing more than artful lies. The reason he has focused on Mrs. Carrington is purely because she had the ill fortune to be the last person poor Ruskin spoke with before going to his death—at this very man’s hands, no less! She was attending a soirée—I ask you, what is one supposed to do at a soirée if not talk to other guests? But now the devil seeks to deceive and deflect the authorities, and to use us to accomplish his evil ends.”
“How diabolical!” The countess looked shocked.
“Indeed.” Lady Amery nodded significantly. “You can see why we—those of us who know the truth—must be vigilant in ensuring these lies are quashed.”
“Unquestionably.” Transparently horrified, Lady Hereford laid a hand on Lady Amery’s arm. “Why, if the ton could be used so easily as an instrument of harm…”
Her thoughts were easy to follow: no one would be safe.
Lifting her head, the countess patted Lady Amery’s arm. “You may rest assured, Felicité, that I’ll correct any idle talk I hear.” She gathered her skirts. “Poor Mrs. Carrington—she must be quite prostrate.”
Lady Amery waved. “As to that, she is one of us and knows how to behave—she will be here this evening, I make no doubt, and with her head high.”
“I sincerely wish her well.” Lady Hereford stood. “And will do all I can to aid her and bring this dastardly plot to nought.”
With a regal nod, which Lady Amery graciously returned, Lady Hereford stepped into the crowd.
From where he’d halted, two paces behind the chaise where his godmother sat, Tony moved quickly forward, drawing Alicia, another fascinated observer, with him. Courtesy of the dense crowd, neither recent occupant of the chaise had noticed them. Now he rounded the chaise and bowed to his godmother, then bent and kissed her cheek.
“You were superb,” he murmured as he straightened.
Lady Amery humphed. “It’s hardly difficult to act outraged when I am.” She held out her hands to Alicia, and when she took them drew her down to the chaise. “But you, chérie—I vow it is unconscionable.” She looked at Tony. “You will find him soon, yes? And then this nonsense will be over.”
“There’s a crew of us pursuing him—we’ll unmask him, never fear.”
“Bon!” Lady Amery turned to Alicia. “And now you must tell me how that lovely sister of yours is faring. Has Geoffrey Manningham truly turned her head?”
Standing beside the chaise, Tony scanned the company. A number of senior hostesses had nodded pointedly their way, their acknowledgment marked and openly so. Others less prominent had stopped by to assure Alicia of their support. The tide was already turning.
He saw Leonora and Tristan arrive, and promptly start circulating. Deeming Lady Selwyn’s event well covered, he summoned Geoffrey and Adriana with a glance, and they moved on through the crowded streets to the next major event.
The Countess of Gosford’s ball was in full swing by the time they arrived. There, they met more hostesses, more grandes dames, all supportive. Lady Osbaldestone summoned them with an imperious wave of her cane; she gave them to understand that she hadn’t had so much fun in years, and fully intended to make “the blackguard’s” attempt to use the ton against Alicia a cause célèbre.
“A judgment of sorts on our malicious ways—we’d be fools not to see it.” Her black eyes locked on the golden green of Alicia’s, she nodded curtly. “So you needn’t think to thank us—any of us. Do us the world of good to realize we’ve created a system so amenable to such dastardly manipulation. Help keep us honest.” She grimaced.
“Well, more honest.”
Switching to Tony, she fixed him with a basilisk gaze. “And how long do you expect to take to lay this villain by the heels?”
“We’re doing all we can—some things take time.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just as long as you don’t at the last seek to sweep this blackguard’s name under any rug.” Her expression was a warning. “Rest assured we—none of us—will stand for that.”
Tony smiled urbanely. “Rest assured,” he returned, “no matter who else might think otherwise, I won’t be a party to protecting him.”
His answer gave Lady Osbaldestone pause; she searched his face, then humphed, apparently appeased. “Very good. You may now take yourselves off. Indeed, I suggest a waltz—that ought to be one starting up now. Last thing you want to appear is too concerned to enjoy yourselves.”
Tony bowed; Alicia curtsied, and he led her away. To the dance floor.
She went into his arms readily. After three revolutions, his hand tightened on her back. She dutifully shifted her attention to his face.
“What is it?” There was a frown behind his eyes.
She smiled—more easily than she’d ever imagined she would be able to in such circumstances. “I just… find it all a trifle unreal. I’ve been transported Cinderella-like to an unimagined place. I never expected so many would so readily give me their support.” She blushed lightly. “For all that it’s you, and Kit and Leonora and the others asking the favor, it’s me they have to agree to back.”
His smile was slow, genuine and warming. “You take too little credit to yourself.” He looked up as they swept into the turn. “Consider this.” He drew her closer, bent his head so his words fell by her ear. “You’ve made few, if any, enemies—you and Adriana have been openly friendly, you’ve made many real friends over the last weeks. You’ve been pleasant companions; you’ve not sought to cut others out, nor to blacken anyone else’s name. You’ve not lent your standing to any less-than-admirable social thrust; you’ve avoided all scandal.”
He caught her eye as they whirled out of the tight turn. Lips curving, he raised a brow. “Indeed, you’re the epitome of a lady of whom society is pleased to approve— one of those the grandes dames delight in holding up as an example to others less adept, living proof of the type of lady they are happy to acknowledge.”
Except she wasn’t. She returned his smile lightly and looked over his shoulder as if accepting his description. Inside, the small kernel of disquiet that had been with her for weeks—ever since he’d first singled her out in some long-ago ballroom—grew, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, not then.
After the waltz, she and Tony strolled the ballroom, eventually rejoining Geoffrey and Adriana; together, they left for their last port of call.
The Marchioness of Huntly was one of the ton’s foremost hostesses. When they arrived, Huntly House was ablaze with lights. A theme of white and gilt was repeated throughout the imposing reception rooms; the ballroom was festooned with white silk sprinkled with gilt stars and looped back with gold cords. The light from three brilliant chandeliers winked and glinted in the jewels circling ladies’ throats and encrusting the combs in their coiffures.
Born a Cynster, Lady Huntly had been watching for them; she swept forward to greet them, and strolled down the ballroom chatting amiably, then handed them into her sister-in-law’s care.
The Duchess of St. Ives positively glowed with social zeal. She smiled brilliantly at Alicia. “He is defeated, you see.” Irrepressibly French, she gestured about them. “Oh, it may take a day or so more to complete what we have begun, but there will be no repercussions. He will not succeed in using us in so cowardly a way to attack you, and thus hide his own infamy.”
Here, the company were the crème de la crème; only those accepted into the most rarefied of tonnish circles were present. The duchess remained with them for some time, introducing them to numerous others. Her generosity and determination added to the weight bearing down on Alicia’s conscience.
Then a waltz started up, and Tony swept her onto the floor and into an interlude of pleasant distraction. She knew better than to think of the nebulous worry dogging her, not while in his arms; he was guaranteed to notice, and question, then interrogate further, and that she was not ready for.
So she laughed and smiled at his witticisms, eventually insisting he return her to Adriana’s side. They joined her sister’s circle. Although in this venue the attractions of those who had gravitated into Adriana’s orbit was exceptional, it was clear, at least to Alicia, that her sister’s decision to lean on Geoffrey Manningham’s arm was not affected in the remotest degree.
Inwardly sighing, she made a mental note to arrange to speak with Geoffrey soon, to explain their financial state. Oddly, the prospect did not fill her with the dread she’d once thought it would.
Brows faintly rising, she realized she now knew Geoffrey too well to imagine mere money, or even their scheme, would weigh overmuch with him. His devotion to Adriana had remained unwaveringly constant throughout the weeks;
indeed, it had only strengthened and grown. Adriana, at least, would achieve the goal they’d aimed for.
Her thoughts turned to herself; feeling a stir beside her, she abruptly pushed them aside, away, and turned.
“My dear Mrs. Carrington.” Sir Freddie Caudel bowed and shook the hand she offered. He glanced around, then met her gaze. He lowered his voice. “I can’t tell you how distressed I am to have learned of the problem besetting you.”
Alicia blinked; the phrasing sounded rather strange, but Sir Freddie was one of the old school, somewhat formal in his ways.
“However, it seems the ladies of the ton have rallied to your cause—you must be grateful to have gained the support of such champions.”
She’d learned that many gentlemen disapproved of the social power the grandes dames wielded; the edge to Sir Freddie’s words suggested he was one. “Indeed,” she replied, calmly serene. “I can’t tell you what a relief it’s been. The ladies have been so kind.”
He inclined his head, looking away over the crowd. “It’s to be hoped this man will be identified soon. Is there any information as to who the blackguard is?”
She hesitated, then murmured, “There are a number of avenues of investigation in hand, I believe. Lord Torrington could tell you more.”
Sir Freddie glanced at Tony, on her other side, presently engaged with Miss Pontefract. Sir Freddie’s lips curved lightly. “I don’t believe I’ll disturb him—it was purely an idle question.”
Alicia smiled and turned the conversation to the latest play, which she hoped to see during the next week. Sir Freddie remained for several minutes, urbanely chatting, then he excused himself and moved to Adriana’s side.
Turning back to Tony, Alicia saw he’d been tracking Sir Freddie. She raised her brows quizzically.
“Has he spoken—or even hinted—yet?”
“No—and don’t speak of it. I’m hoping not to tempt fate.” On a spurt of decision, she made a silent vow to speak with Geoffrey as soon as possible. There was no need to put Sir Freddie to the trouble of asking for Adriana’s hand—no need for her to have to face the ordeal of politely refusing him.
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