“You should go over and say hello to him.” Freddy let go of her arm and nudged her into motion. “The chap looks as though he’d love the chance to be reacquainted.”
Lenore glanced over her shoulder at Freddy with a flat stare that said she knew exactly what he was up to. Knowing didn’t stop her from heading toward Phineas, though. Phineas Mercer was exactly the sort of man a woman like her could turn to for a scandalously good time. And it had been ages since Lenore had had a good time. Freddy leaned in to say something to Reese, no doubt at Lenore’s expense, as she faced forward, setting her sights on Phineas.
She made it across the packed lobby somehow, dodging more than a few restless patrons and listening to another peel of overly loud laughter from Lady Agnes—who was drawing as much attention as Mr. Jewel was sure to once the play began. By the time she approached Phineas Mercer, he was ready for her, standing tall and regarding her with a look of pleasure behind his unassuming spectacles.
“Miss Garrett,” he began with as much of a bow as he could make in the cramped space. “It’s so good to see you again. You’re looking well this evening.”
“You’re looking charming yourself, Mr. Mercer,” Lenore said, raising her hand so that Phineas could take it. Like a gentleman, he bowed over it, kissing her gloved knuckles. “It’s been too long since our last meeting.”
“I agree,” he said, straightening, but only letting go of her hand gradually. “I’m sure the fault and the blame for that is all mine.”
“Oh?” Lenore used the excuse of so many people crammed into the lobby to stand far closer to Phineas than would otherwise have been proper. Though most of London society considered the man to be nothing at all special—he was only heir to a baronetcy in far-away Yorkshire, and even though he was as handsome as Adonis, in Lenore’s opinion, his glasses seemed to dissuade most fine society ladies from considering him as a beau—Lenore had found him fascinating from the moment their paths had first crossed in the spring when Danny Long and Lady Phoebe’s problems had thrown them together. Together they’d plotted—and flirted—extensively on Lady Phoebe’s behalf. It had been delicious and left her with a taste for more.
“I’ve had quite a bit of business on my plate,” Phineas went on to say in a frank tone.
Lenore considered it a good sign that he would speak to her so unreservedly. “Business is always important,” she answered with equal frankness. “Heaven knows it’s what occupies my father most of the time.” She paused before asking, “What business is it you do again?”
A smile that was far more mysterious than her simple question warranted lit his features. “The business of searching for a wealthy bride, of course,” he said. His eyes flashed, and if Lenore wasn’t mistaken, raked her with a heated gaze.
“If I find one, I’ll be sure to let you know,” she said, fanning herself coquettishly.
“I was given to understand London was full of them when I made my way here from Yorkshire,” he went on. “Though those claims have yet to be proven true.”
“You must not be looking in the right place,” Lenore said, blinking innocently.
“Oh, I’m looking in the right place, all right.” His blue eyes bored into her, suggesting far more than his casual words.
“It’s a shame Freddy—” She wasn’t sure how to end the sentence. She wasn’t sure the sentence had more of an end than that.
Fortunately for Lenore, she was spared having to explain as Lady Agnes laughed again and lurched in her direction. Lenore wheeled around just in time to catch the poor young woman as she stumbled close.
“Are you all right?” Lenore asked, holding her so that she didn’t fall and keeping her steady until she was certain Lady Agnes could stand on her own power. It came as no surprise that the poor dear was trembling slightly, which caused the copious lace ruffles of her theater gown to flutter like a hundred restless butterflies.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Lady Agnes said in a breathy voice, then swallowed.
“Are you quite certain?” Phineas asked with a concerned look.
“I am, truly, I am,” Lady Agnes went on, her eyes not seeming to fix on anything in particular. “Oh, dear. Do you have any smelling salts? I fear I might need them.”
“You are not fine, Lady Agnes.” Lenore lowered her voice, genuinely concerned.
“No, no, I must be. I have to be.” Lady Agnes drew in a breath and stood straighter, pressing a trembling hand to her décolletage and looking as though she might grasp the thick strands of pearls around her neck and use them to strangle herself, putting herself out of her misery. “Mama insists that I must do my duty by our family and find a husband.”
“Oh?” Lenore kept a hand on the woman’s arm until she was certain Lady Agnes wouldn’t faint.
“Yes.” Lady Agnes nodded tightly, gulped, and forced herself to smile. “Even though I would so much rather stay safe at home.” Her eyes took on a hunted look, and Lenore thought she might cry.
“Agnes.” Her mother’s single syllable was all it took for Lady Agnes to straighten and put on a tight smile as the formidable Lady Hamilton approached. “The house is opening,” Lady Hamilton said. The woman’s expression was all concern.
“Well, that’s that, then,” Lady Agnes said breathily, reaching for her mother’s hand and letting herself be led off to the theater.
Lenore watched the two women go, feeling terrible for Lady Agnes.
“What a curious interlude,” Phineas said, a look of careful calculation in his eyes as he adjusted his spectacles.
Lenore wasn’t sure she liked his tone. “I have a friend like her—who has what I assume is her same problem—back home,” she said in a scolding tone. “Bethany had a mortal fear of crowds. They make her anxious to the point of tears,
