With my decision made, I swallowed the rest of the champagne and handed my empty glass to Charles. “Sounds amusing. Let’s go.”
He broke out into a wide, approving grin. “Excellent. Follow me, ladies.”
Chapter 5
Once Charles had retrieved our coats and expertly maneuvered us outside, I looked around for our parents’ coach. But it was not among the long line waiting in front of the gallery.
“Over here, Minnie!” Delia called out. I turned around and spotted her and Charles at the corner, where a hansom cab waited. I clutched my coat tighter as a burst of wind whipped around me, and hurried over to them.
Delia climbed inside first, and Charles helped me in after her.
“Where is our coach?” I asked as I settled into the seat beside her.
“I sent Warwick home,” she replied blithely. “No use having him wait for us all evening.”
I gave her skeptical look. “That is his job.”
But Delia only waved a hand. “It’s nice to have a little privacy, don’t you think? Besides, I wouldn’t want him reporting anything back to Mother.”
“Reportingwhatback?”
She tilted her head, as if I was being willfully obtuse. “Well,you can’t imagine she would approve of our going to this party. A gallery opening in Soho is nearly too scandalous for her.”
I thought of the conversation I had had with our mother just yesterday. “I’m not sure you are being as discreet as you think, as she seems to have a fair idea of what you get up to anyway.”
“Not everything,” she replied, with an eyebrow waggle.
But before I could form a response to this, Charles joined us. I kept the rest of my thoughts to myself and let the two of them carry the conversation as the cab took us not far away to a tony street in Mayfair.
Once we stopped, Charles got out first and helped Delia and then myself down. I stepped onto the pavement and took in the elegant, Georgian-style mansion looming up ahead. Every window in the entire place was lit up, and the silhouettes of dozens of people moving within could be seen from the street, while more still were ascending the front steps.
“Quite the place, isn’t it?” Charles said.
“It looks even more crowded than the gallery,” I admitted a little warily as we approached.
He chuckled. “Not to worry. Lord Linden is an impeccable host. I’d wager it’s just a hair short of a crush inside.”
This wasn’t exactly reassuring, but I kept the thought to myself as Delia slipped her arm through mine. “Come. I haven’t met Lord Linden before, and I confess, I’m terribly curious.”
“He’s a first-rate scoundrel,” Charles drawled, but his mouth tightened ever so slightly, and I suspected he was a bit jealous of my sister’s undisguised interest.
“That is a large part of the appeal,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve heard he always invites the most eclectic crowd, too,” she continued on, tugging me up the front steps. “Everyone from writers to inventors and actors. Even Ellen Terry has been rumored to attend!”
I feigned a hum of interest as she began to rattle off a listof other names, but, in truth, I had not kept up with the latest theater news since I had left England.
The door was manned by a bald-headed butler so large and intimidating that he made Morris look as gentle as a kitten.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Pearson,” he said in a dour tone that seemed to indicate the exact opposite, though he immediately stepped aside.
“Thank you, Thompkins,” Charles replied cheerily as we crossed the threshold.
“You must be a frequent guest here,” I began, “for the butler to recognize you on sight.”
“Yes,” he replied idly. “But not just from these little parties. I’ve known Linden for years.”
I glanced back and caught the butler watching him with a sharp gaze, until he noticed me and looked away.
We then left our coats with a footman and crossed the spacious, marble-floored entryway. I looked up at the vaulted ceiling high above our heads, where a paned glass dome let in slivers of moonlight. Gold stars danced along the rest of the ceiling in a surprising touch of whimsy.
