Evelina set down her cup. “Certainly.” She didn’t know Alice well, but the invitation seemed innocent enough.
Abandoning Whitlock with the sandwiches, Alice began skirting the lawn. “I see Lord Bancroft has begun adding more lights to the house and garden. It will be quite lovely at night.”
That was true. Some of the new additions were tall lamp standards, others just tiny globes that hung over windows and doorways. At the prices the barons charged for gas, the fad for outdoor lighting displays was also a symbol of how much money one had to waste.
“It’s the fashion,” Evelina replied noncommittally and then gestured at a turning in the path. “If we go this way, you will see the tulip beds. They are quite lovely this time of year.”
Alice complied, her eyes as much on her feet as on the world around her. Evelina got the impression that she hadn’t mixed much in company until the last year, and was a little shy.
Evelina changed the subject. “I owe your father a debt of gratitude.”
“What for?”
“He arranged for my presentation.”
“Oh, that. It’s his pleasure, I’m sure.” Alice gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re quite right, the tulips are spectacular.”
Evelina agreed, gazing at the riot of pinks, reds, and yellows, and wondered why Alice had singled her out. Now that they were in private—too far away from the food to attract many party goers—she didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“We do not know each other well,” Alice began, the sun seeping through the fine silk of her parasol and turning her hair to a red flame. “But I met some of your schoolmates from Wollaston’s at a musicale the other night.”
“That can’t be good,” Evelina replied lightly, trying to sound less alarmed than she felt.
Alice chuckled. It wasn’t the silvery laugh Evelina had heard the few times they been at the same dinner tables and drawing rooms, but an earthy chuckle that sounded much more real. “On the contrary. They all said you were smart and very much your own person. Also, honest to a fault.”
“I wonder whom I offended by that.”
The girl’s tone was droll. “Well, I understand the school closed the year you left.”
Evelina cringed at the memory. “The headmistress retired after an unfortunate incident with the walking dead, but that’s a tiresome story.”
Alice looked up from the flowers, her eyes alight. “How very intriguing. My informant left out that detail.”
Evelina was growing uncomfortable. “Why is the Wollaston Academy of interest to you?”
“Not the academy, but you. You interest me.”
“Why?”
Alice gave a little huff of breath—less a sigh than someone working up to a confession. She twirled the parasol, making the yellow bobbles fly. “When I heard you were the niece of Sherlock Holmes, I grew curious. I’m my father’s daughter. When I wish to resolve a problem, I research it thoroughly.”
“Do I disappoint?”
“On the contrary.” Alice’s face changed, a small pucker appearing between her brows. “I wish I had the opportunity to know you better.”
“I’m flattered.”
“No, you’re not, and I say that utterly without rancor. You’re wondering why we are having this conversation.” Alice finally met her eyes. Unlike her father’s golden gaze, Alice’s were a startling blue. “I’m concerned about my father. I want to know why he is using your uncle’s services. And I want to know if you’re likely to tell me the truth about it.”
Evelina’s breath hitched. She’d heard Alice Keating was sometimes blunt, but she hadn’t expected this. “My uncle does not discuss his cases with me. He holds his clients’ confidentiality in high regard. In any event, I don’t know what they spoke about.”
Alice frowned. “Would you tell me if you knew?”
“They aren’t my secrets to share.”
For a long moment, Alice glared at the flower bed as if it had offended her. “And my father tells me nothing of substance. My welfare depends on his. I should know.”
“He has not taken you into the business?” Some of the steam barons were female.
“No.” The single word spoke volumes.
“Ah.” Evelina swallowed hard. It wasn’t her affair, but she suddenly understood far too much. Like so many women, Alice was smart, but her capabilities were undervalued by her family. “I wish I could help.”
“Thank you.” Alice lifted her head. The elaborate coils of her copper hair resembled some mysterious invention. The sun sparkled on the diamonds in her combs. “You are frank, Evelina Cooper. I like that. Perhaps someday we shall be friends.”
Evelina smiled, suddenly deciding she could like the Gold King’s daughter. “I would be honored.”
“Good.” They started back toward the main party. Alice made a long-suffering face. “I suppose I should get on with the business of finding a husband my father will like.”
“Find one
Alice gave another laugh, but this time it was high and nervous. “Very true, but he will have to live with my father. He will have to be a very strong man to dare that.”
Evelina could well believe that. “Then when he comes along, you will have to snap him up.”
“That sounds very carnivorous.”
It was Evelina’s turn to laugh. “My grandmamma told me the marriage mart is not for the fainthearted.”
“Well, then,” said Alice, “let us break out the cutlery and have at it.”
Imogen eyed Stanford Whitlock uneasily. He was nice to look at, but had the unhappy habit of licking his lips. The sight of that large pink tongue reminded her of a mastiff they’d once owned. She was tempted to toss him a hunk of beef just to see if he would catch it in his teeth.
“But you see,” piped Percy Hamilton, who kept moving forward an inch with every breath. He was very close to crowding her against the tea table. “Buttercup was the favorite in the fourth race. She had a beautiful gait, she did. I was sure she could take Rake’s Flagon by at least a head.”
“And did she?” Imogen asked politely. “How fared the gallant Buttercup?”
“Disconnect me if she didn’t throw a shoe on the curve, and I lost my last shilling that day,” Percy said cheerfully. “But I got it all back at the next meet. It’s all a matter of trusting the numbers will come your way again.”
Imogen didn’t entirely disagree. Unlike Evelina, who planned for every last contingency, she was more patient with the universe. However, Imogen had also learned that life could be fleeting, and ought not to be wasted on irritating young men.
If he said “Disconnect me” one more time, she was going to shriek.
Percy inched forward again, and her bustle connected with the table. There was a faint rattling of teacups. “Mr. Hamilton, would you please be so kind as to withdraw a few steps?”
Before he could reply, Whitlock grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him backward. Percy made a faint gargling sound as his feet bobbed above the ground.
“Better?” Whitlock asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Imogen returned brightly, scanning the horizon for Evelina to come to her rescue. She was beginning to feel fatigued. She’d never been unduly strong, and the stress of the last few days was wearing on her. “You may set him down now.”
Whitlock released his grasp and returned to his former stance. Stolid. Wordless. Imogen felt herself growing tense even as Percy launched into a new tale of equine glory. She was beginning to think of Whitlock as The Stare. She wondered if this was what rabbits felt right before a fox bagged them.
“Miss Roth.” A third voice made her start. She turned to her left. Bucky Penner was grinning down at her. He
