The Season Page 62

“What are you two up to?” Alex said sleepily, sitting up.

They both turned to her with broad smiles. “Oh, excellent! You are awake!” Ella exclaimed.

“How are you feeling?” Vivi asked, pouring a cup of tea for her friend.

Alex stretched broadly, reaching out to accept the tea and biscuit Vivi brought to her. “What are you two plotting?”

“To be fair,” Vivi said with a pointed look at Ella, “only one of us is plotting.”

“Mmm. I see that. And what mischief have you devised for us, Lady Eleanor?”

“Not mischief so much as detective work,” replied Ella.

“Ah. Of course.”

“My theory is this: If we cannot prove Lucian’s role in the plot to kill the earl, we can at least uncover the information that led to his death. Perhaps that in turn will lead us to the entire plot against the Crown! At the very least, it will prove to Blackmoor that he was wrong not to believe you.”

“There’s only one problem with that,” Alex said.

“Only one?” Vivi interjected, earning a black look from Ella.

“Well, only one big one. If the War Office, Bow Street, and Blackmoor himself have not been able to find this information, why on earth would we be able to?”

“Ah…the voice of reason awakes,” Vivi said with a smile.

“I’ll tell you why. Because we have”—Ella ticked off the qualities on her fingers as she spoke them—“cleverness, a fresh eye for the problem, curiosity, superior instinct—as proven by my hunch that Montgrave was involved from the beginning—and—” She paused dramatically. “—the most important thing of all.”

“Which is?” Alex asked.

“Desire to prove that we can,” she added, with a measure of fantasy in her voice. “And think of the coup when they realize that three young women did something that a battalion of men could not.”

At that moment, a knock came at the door and the duchess entered with all the poise befitting her position. She was wearing a day dress of rich purple satin and looked as though she had been up and fresh for hours, despite the fact that she’d hosted one of the greatest balls in London history the evening before. Stopping a few paces into the room, she looked suspiciously from one girl to the next, leveling each with a cool, blue gaze before finally speaking to her daughter. “Alexandra, I trust you are feeling better?”

“Yes, Mother. Thank you.”

“What was it that befell you last evening?”

“I—uh—” For the life of her, Alex couldn’t remember what Vivi and Freddie’s excuse was. “I had a turned ankle after the dance with Freddie, and Vivi and Ella were nice enough to escort me here and keep me company.”

A single brow of her mother’s rose as Vivi coughed into her hand. “By that thoroughly unsubtle cough, I rather imagine that Vivian is attempting to tell you that it was not your ankle that bothered you last evening, but a touch of the ague.” Alex blushed under her mother’s scrutiny. “Mothers always find out, Alexandra.”

“I didn’t—”

The duchess silenced her with a single raised hand. “I would prefer not to hear whatever excuse you have devised to explain your behavior last evening. Instead, I am here to tell you that, although you may have escaped the ball, you cannot escape me. As punishment for missing my ball, I am requiring your attendance at a country house party.”

Despite her relief that her mother seemed to think they had schemed only to escape the ball last night and not for any more serious reason, Alex groaned, “Mother! You cannot!”

“On the contrary, daughter, I can. More so, I shall. You and your brothers are hereby required to be in attendance. They, I’m sure, will have a bone to pick with you when they hear.” She turned to Vivi and Ella, adding, “I’ve invited both of your parents—so I expect you will be there as well.”

Her statement elicited a wan smile from Ella and a slightly brighter one from Vivi. Alex piped in, “Well, at least you two will be forced to be there as well. That might help a bit.” Turning back to her mother, she said grumpily, “Who else has been invited?”

“I have dispatched invitations to a number of influentials—including Blackmoor and Stanhope, the Salisburys, Lady Twizzleton, the Warings—I know your feelings on the young lord, but he is indeed a marquess—and a number of additional young, eligible men. The season is almost half over; it’s time you girls turn your thoughts to finding a proper match.”

She was so wrapped up in making her point, the duchess failed to notice the slight catch in Alex’s breath when she referenced Gavin. He wouldn’t attend, would he? Or maybe he would, simply to ignore her. She didn’t know what was worse. Perhaps she could convince her mother to postpone this silly party? Alex opened her mouth to say something, when Ella beat her to the task with a bright smile and an “Oh, Your Grace! What a wonderful group of people! I, for one, am quite excited to attend. Aren’t you, Vivi?”

Vivi gave Ella a strange look and answered warily, “Indeed.”

Pleasantly surprised, the duchess smiled at Ella. “Thank you, Eleanor, I share your excitement and shall look forward to having you with us.” Turning back to Alex, she continued, “You would do well to take a leaf from your friend’s book, Alexandra. I shall expect to see you in a better humor when we leave tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning!” Alex cried. “But that’s impossible!” Her stomach dropped as she was flooded with reasons to dread the house party. Between Blackmoor’s clear frustration with her, which could easily lead him to decline the invitation and stay in town, leaving Lucian and Montgrave with a much easier time finding and dispatching the young earl the way they’d done to his father, and the real possibility that he might join them in the country and plague her with his obvious dislike, her heart was racing and she was beginning to feel panicked.

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