Livy had thought the theme of their costumes was rather obvious. However, since arriving at the ball, everyone had mistaken them for The Three Graces.
Livy heaved a sigh. “I am not Aglaea.”
“Pardon. Then you must be Euphrosyne, the Grace of Pleasure.” Sheffield waggled his brows. “For in your presence, we mortals can feel naught but joy.”
“Guess again,” Livy said impatiently.
“Allow me to give you a clue, my lord.” Fiona held up her golden spindle. “While I spin the thread of life, my second sister measures the length.”
She gestured at Glory, who cheerfully waved her measuring stick.
Turning to Livy, Fi said, “My third sister here determines the span.”
Livy lifted her golden shears, opening and closing them in a snip snip motion.
“Ah…you are The Three Fates. How clever.” Sheffield’s smile faltered for only an instant. “As you have the power to determine destiny, Lady Olivia, will it be mine to secure a spot on your dance card?”
As it would be ungracious to refuse the gallant request, Livy held out the card that was secured to her wrist by a ribbon. Sheffield signed it with a flourish before departing.
“I should have stuck to my original plan and dressed like a crone,” Livy said in disgruntled tones. “No one is going to guess that I am Atropos in my current attire.”
Livy had volunteered to be Atropos, the deadliest, and thus the most interesting, Fate. She had wanted to dress up the way the character was often portrayed: as an aged hag with missing teeth and an arresting stare. Fiona, however, had put her foot down.
“As your bosom chum, I could not allow you to don a scraggly grey wig and apply blacking to your teeth,” Fi said with a shudder. “We may be on a mission, but we cannot overlook the eligible parti here tonight.”
I can overlook them, Livy thought.
The only gentleman she wanted was not here, and she did not give a farthing about attracting anyone else. She hadn’t seen Hadleigh since their encounter in the orangery. When she’d fished for information from Papa, he had mentioned that Hadleigh had been absent from their mutual club and the usual places.
Was Hadleigh now intent upon avoiding her and her family? Thinking back, she regretted that she’d angered him with the mention of Sheffield. The attempt to make him jealous had been a stupid and childish thing to do. When she had the opportunity, she would apologize to Hadleigh and patch things up somehow. She told herself that the current break from him was probably for the best…and tried to believe it.
“More importantly, we needed matching costumes,” Glory was saying in a hushed voice. “If we look interchangeable, at least from afar, it will be harder for Mama, Papa, and Aunt Patty to keep track of us.”
For the next hour, Livy did the pretty and danced with various partners, including Sheffield. It was difficult to make polite chitchat when her mind was on the important task ahead of her. Finally, the favorite waltz of the Duke and Duchess of Ranelagh and Somerville played. As Glory’s parents headed toward the dance floor, Glory cleared her throat.
“Aunt Patty, I wanted to ask you about a painting on the other side of the ballroom,” she said. “I believe it is an allegorical representation of one of the Greek goddesses, and I am trying to figure out which one.”
“How fascinating.” A proud bluestocking, Hypatia Newton was dressed as an owl in a feathered brown frock, her eyes bright behind her spectacles. “Let us take a closer look, girls.”
Hypatia steered a path through the crowd, Fi and Glory flanking her and keeping her occupied with questions.
Looking back at Livy, Glory mouthed, “Go.”
With a nod, Livy headed in the opposite direction. As she reached one of the arched entryways, a familiar awareness tingled over her nape. She spun around and surveyed the ballroom.
When she did not see Hadleigh, she expelled a breath.
You just imagined the feeling, Livy.
Straightening her shoulders, she hurried toward Edgecombe’s study.
Ben arrived at the end of the hallway in time to see Livy disappear into Edgecombe’s study.
What the devil is she up to? he thought grimly.
When he’d spied her furtive exit from the ballroom, he’d known that she was up to something. What in blazes could she want in Edgecombe’s study? The fact that he, himself, was here to find the source of a deadly drug was a coincidence that filled him with unease.
In his younger days, Ben had run in the same pack as Edgecombe. Indeed, the two of them plus Viscount Bollinger and the Honorable Simon Thorne had been dubbed the Four Horsemen for their destructive rakehell ways. Their wealth and family connections had insulated them from repercussions, their notoriety even gaining them admiration among the fast set. Yet Ben knew his fellow Horsemen for what they were: jaded sensation seekers who cared only for their own pleasures.
He was not proud of the fact that he’d once been one of them. When he had tried to get his marriage back on track five years ago, his first act had been to sever ties with the Horsemen, who’d been a bad influence on him and his duchess. Now to see Livy venturing into Edgecombe’s lair…
A sense of foreboding clenched Ben’s gut. Since the exchange in the orangery, he had avoided Livy. Losing her had been hard; hurting her would be a far worse consequence. One he could not live with. Yet now his concern for her safety propelled him down the hallway. Casting a quick glance around to ensure that he was not seen, he twisted the knob and entered the study. He closed the door, muffling the sounds of the
