Phin grimaced and stepped carefully behind a stout lord who was chattering away with a pair of middle-aged ladies so that he could watch Lady Hamilton without immediate risk of being seen in return. So help him, if Lionel had deliberately tossed him into Lady Hamilton’s path as a way to amuse himself, brother or no, Phin would wring his neck. Lady Hamilton was as bombastic a presence in the ballroom as she always was, dressed in peacock blue with plumes from the same bird adorning her head. But what caught Phin’s attention even more than her was Lady Agnes standing half a step behind her mother.
Lady Agnes was dressed in a greener shade of the same peacock colors, but wore them far more elegantly. Her eyes were downcast, though, and her face was bright pink. She had the look of a woman who wanted to be anywhere but where she was. Phin instantly recalled what Lenore had said about her friend who had a mortal fear of crowds. Lady Agnes certainly looked as though she were about to expire with misery.
“I know what sort of evil thoughts men have these days,” Lady Hamilton blustered on to the hapless gentleman she’d cornered. Phin wondered what the poor man had done to get Lady Hamilton’s attention. “My Agnes is an angel, pure and beautiful. She does not deserve the wicked things I know you are thinking about her after that horrid publication.”
“Mama,” Lady Agnes whispered, barely loud enough for Phin to hear. “Please stop reminding people. They would forget if not for you.”
Phin was inclined to agree with her. His guilty conscience pricked him to do something, to save Lady Agnes from her mother. He even went so far as to take a step forward before Lionel appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and executed a strange turn as he passed Lady Agnes. The result was that he trod on the hem of her gown, knocking her very slightly off balance.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon.” Lionel instantly apologized, turning to Lady Agnes and making a fuss. “How clumsy of me. But I must say—” His expression filled with genuine pleasure. “—that gown is exquisite. Don’t you think so, Lord Compton?”
Lionel stepped gracefully to the side, maneuvering a young man with reddish hair and freckles that Phin wouldn’t have noticed if he’d been standing inches away from him directly into Lady Agnes’s view.
“You l-l-look l-l-lovely,” the man struggled to say, blushing up a storm and gazing at Lady Agnes as though she’d arrived at the ball on a clamshell, escorted by the east wind.
Phin frowned, wondering what the hell his brother was up to. His Lord Compton was pale and slight and looked as though he would shriek at the sight of a spider. He certainly wasn’t the sort of man who—
“Do you really think so?” Lady Agnes asked, her eyes shining at the compliment as though it had come from the queen herself.
“Y-y-yes,” Lord Compton stuttered. “I n-n-noticed you from ac-c-cross the—” He let out a frustrated breath, lowering his head.
“You must excuse my friend,” Lionel cut in. “He has an unfortunate speech impediment. That is why he abhors crowds and generally doesn’t attend balls or any sort of event where he would be called upon to speak. He’s such a homebody, in spite of being heir to an earldom with a considerable income, aren’t you Victor.”
Lord Compton looked mortified, but Lady Agnes inched closer to him, actually smiling for a change. “I don’t care much for crowds either. And I detest balls.” She glanced over her shoulder at her mother.
“W-w-would you care to adjourn t-t-to one of the p-p-parlors?” Lord Compton asked.
Lady Agnes beamed with relief. She checked with her mother again.
“As long as the parlor in question is well-chaperoned,” Lady Hamilton said, her eyes narrowed slightly…at Lionel. The woman might have been a harpy, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Thank you, Mama,” Lady Agnes said, slipping her gloved hand into Lord Compton’s arm when he offered it.
“Well done, Lionel,” Phin murmured.
Lionel glanced his way as if he’d heard. He flashed Phin a smug smile, then bowed slightly, as though finishing a particularly riveting monologue on the stage. Phin assumed the introduction of Lady Agnes and Lord Compton was the entire reason Lionel had inconvenienced Lenore and Lady O’Shea, and had dragged half of London out of their homes on a blustery October evening. But as mad as the plot was, it filled Phin with relief. If the mad scheme to find a suitable husband for Lady Agnes worked, perhaps Lady Hamilton would give up her pursuit of Phin, and perhaps his conscience could ease up a little.
Hard on the heels of that thought, every conversation in the ballroom flashed to excited murmuring, and tension filled the air. Phin turned, along with everyone else, toward the doorway, completely unsurprised to find that Lenore had arrived. She held Freddy’s arm and Reese flanked her other side, but as encouraging as the show of unwavering support was, Phin knew he was the one who should be standing by Lenore’s side.
He started across the room, dodging around guests who burst into tight whispers as gossip filled the air. Someone must have signaled for the orchestra to play, but even their lilting hint that the guests should start dancing did nothing to calm the excitement.
“I heard she’s married to a cowboy from the Wild West,” someone hissed as Phin marched past.
“No, she’s married to one of those industrialists, a steel tycoon,” someone else said.
“I heard she’s married to a nobody and that she fled to England to escape things that are too horrible to mention,” a red-faced matron said, fanning herself furiously.
Phin scowled and picked up his pace, more determined to stand by Lenore than ever.
“How bad is it?” Lenore asked as soon as he reached her side. She was clever enough to know everyone would be talking about her.
“It’s what
