“Won’t you please make excuses for me, Mama?” Fi cajoled.
“All right.” Mama bit her lip. “I shall do my best to come up with something.”
Fi felt a twinge of guilt at the discomfort in her mother’s guileless blue eyes. At times, she wondered why she couldn’t have inherited Mama’s kind and nice nature along with her looks. Instead, those traits had gone to Fi’s younger brother, Maximillian. Fi took after Papa. Driven and focused, she was willing to do what it took to achieve her ambitions.
Scanning the room for reinforcements, Fi spotted Lady Helena, the Marchioness of Harteford. The buxom brunette was one of Mama’s friends and a fixture in high society.
“Lady Helena has arrived. Why don’t you join her?” Fi suggested. “If anyone comes looking for me, simply tell them that I had an emergency with my slipper laces.”
Mama brightened. “What a splendid idea. I’ve been meaning to catch up with Lady Helena.”
After seeing Mama happily settled with the marchioness, Fiona dodged several gentlemen and collected her friends, Ladies Olivia Wodehouse and Glory Cavendish. The trio took refuge in a quiet corner shielded by a row of potted palms.
“Why aren’t you dancing, Fi?” A petite brunette, Livy wore a gown of spring-green silk that matched her eyes. Her hair was arranged in chic braided hoops over her ears. “Your card is always full.”
Fi glanced at her overflowing dance card. What had once felt like a symbol of achievement now felt like an albatross tied around her wrist.
How did the goal I worked so hard for suddenly become a nightmare?
“I needed a break,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve had to listen to fellows drone on about nothing of consequence all night. My dancing partners have been clods, too, making mincemeat of my toes.”
“Poor Fi.” Glory’s russet-brown ringlets swung as she shook her head dolefully. Slender and athletic, with a dusting of golden freckles on her nose, she had neat features that showed her quarter-Chinese heritage. “Suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous popularity.”
“How many proposals has Fi received this week?” Livy inquired. “I have lost count.”
“Very amusing.” Fiona rolled her eyes as her friends chuckled. “The pair of you ought to set up a stall next to Punch and Judy.”
“I could use the pin money,” Livy quipped.
Now thatwaslaughable. Livy’s husband, the Duke of Hadleigh, indulged her shamelessly. And not just for the usual things like clothing and jewels. He supported Livy’s passion for investigation.
What would it be like to know such loving acceptance?Fi wondered.
Of course, a girl like Livy deserved true love. She was clever and loyal. She’d pledged her friendship to Hadleigh from the time she was thirteen, those feelings eventually blossoming into a soul-deep love. Fi had no idea what such love felt like. The closest thing she’d felt was a lusty attraction to an anonymous thief.
“Is everything all right, Fi?” Livy asked with her usual acuity.
Although Fi had told her friends about her adventure with the dashing Frenchman, she hadn’t divulged what she’d done with him on the desk. Some things were too intimate to share. It would be a secret between her and the thief…who she’d never see again.
Sighing, Fi said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Usually, I enjoy balls. But tonight, I feel…” She searched for a more delicate word and gave up. “Bored. Out of my wits, actually.”
“You are not alone,” Glory said with feeling. “I fear that detective work has made everything else seem tedious in comparison.”
Perhaps that was the problem. Once upon a time, Fi had dreamed of having a loving marriage like that of her parents. In the two years since her debut, however, she hadn’t met a gentleman she found half as exciting as her work. She had become addicted to the freedom of her covert life, and the idea of giving up her independence, of taking on a husband who would tell her what to do, made her entire being tense in denial.
“Noteverythingelse is tedious,” Livy said with a wink.
“Not all of us have an adoring husband and adorable babe to entertain us,” Fiona teased.
Livy snorted. “You have your pick of husbands. You just need to choose one.”
“The choices don’t feel right,” Fi said glumly.
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” Glory was peering through the palms. “But I think the remainder of your dance card has caught your scent.”
Peering through the fronds, Fi saw that a pack of gentlemen was indeed sniffing her out. Panic seized her. She looked for the nearest escape route: the door to a balcony several feet away.
“Go,” Livy said. “We’ll keep them diverted.”
