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“Are you mad?” Samuel said, his face a mess of irritation. “Surely, you have taken leave of your senses if you believe we are to investigate yet another murder. The entirety of society will attach a red X over every woman in this family if we find ourselves at the center of this… yet again.” He paced around the study angrily.

Orris glanced around at the other three ladies: Myrtle, who was holding the book she had been reading when Orris had asked them all to meet her there; Gladys, who stood wide-eyed, having never been in the middle of such macabre events in her life; and Violetta, who glared in a way that suggested she would either scream or faint at any given moment.

They met in the study so Mama would not be alerted by the inevitable screeching from Samuel once he’d heard the entire story. His heaving shoulders with every exasperated breath served as evidence of how thoroughly disturbed he was by Orris stealing some of Dorchester’s clothing to sneak out dressed as a male servant. Even more so, when he’d found out she had helped Abram move the body into the room before he’d escorted her home. And utterly outraged by learning of Abram’s concealed identity.

He was angry, certainly, but Orris was… Orris was inevitably—relieved. Not at his man’s death, but that she had not been interested in another wrong person. The realization had hit her somewhere between arrival home and Samuel’s fits. He was a titled, respectable gentleman, after all. Her heart still danced in her chest, even if saddened by the circumstances. There would be time to ponder what it all meant later. The reason she was so certain Lord Abram was interested in her. Perhaps she was not mistaken.

Samuel continued his lamenting, pacing back and forth. “I do not care if he’s a duke’s son. What can he mean by involving you when he knew I was not in favor of any of you being within an inch of a potential crime?”

“I am sure he did not mean for me to stumble over a body at his door,” Orris said, the attempt to defend Abram thin, even in her own ears.

“He should have escorted you home immediately. And you, young lady, should never have been there in the first place.”

Orris was sure steam would pour from Samuel’s ears in mere seconds. He was no doubt at a boiling point.

“What could she do?” Myrtle asked. “She is not the type of person who can ignore the suffering of others. You know that as well as I, and anyone else in this room.”

Despite her crossed arms and pouting mouth, an unmistakable display of reluctance, Violetta nodded. Gladys clutched imagined pearls as she listened on.

“The question is, what do we do now?” Orris posed. “I am already involved. And we cannot leave him to navigate this alone. The note clearly threatened Lord Abram, as well.”

“What business is it of ours, Orris?” Samuel asked.

“Well, he is a friend. He is my friend. And after most people I cared about being taken from me, I should think you would all be indebted to me.” Orris was low to bring up Thomas, but she knew they all had been aware when he’d been moved out from London to America and none of them had shared that with her.

Violetta blanched, yet again.

“Orris, that is not fair to us,” Myrtle said. “Had we known you would have taken it so badly, we would have told you. Honestly, I thought you knew and simply did not want to discuss it.”

“Never mind all that,” Orris said. “I should like to help Lord Abram, if that is all right by each of you. I do not want to do it alone, but I think you all know I will.” She leveled heated glares in each of their directions, waiting for the next of them to express their disdain at her decision.

When no one did, a wisp of satisfaction ran the length of her spine. None of them were going along with her willingly. As long as they went along, though, she was satisfied.

“There are no less than six balls in the coming fortnight. When shall we find the time to investigate a murder?” Violetta stomped her feet as she asked the question.

Orris had known it would only be a matter of time before concerns over the social season was brought up.

“I promise, you will not miss a single ball,” Orris assured her.

“And the suitors? You promised you would remain right by my side as they visit. What of your word?”

“I will sit with you,” Gladys volunteered. “That is, if Orris is otherwise engaged. How much time could she possibly be away from home? Aunt Seraphine will not allow us to miss many engagements, I would imagine.”

Dear Lord. Mama. Gladys was right. There was positively no circumstance in which Seraphine Gray would allow Orris to miss any second of the social season. While she was young, she had already been introduced to society. There were expectations to be fulfilled. “We shall have to help Lord Abram after hours, is all,” she said, as if it were easy. Orris knew it would be anything but.

“You already promised our help, did you not?” Violetta accused.

Orris could only stare. Of course she had. Damn Violetta for being so astute. “I promised if Samuel gave his permission,” she said.

“Oh, Orris.” Myrtle sighed.

“And what good are we if we do not stand by our word?” Samuel said before running a hand over those well-kempt strands. He was livid, but there was a softening of his eyes as he looked to his beloved, Myrtle. “He does seem to be a valiant man, aside from his lies. I do understand his desire to set out on his own. The world can be cruel to artists.”

“Indeed,” Myrtle agreed.

Orris knew she was on the precipice of his permission. “I promise not to do anything without letting someone know. I will not leave alone, or commit to any quests, or place any of us in harm’s way. We shall simply endeavor to keep him safe.”

“Fine,” Samuel said, holding his hands out in surrender before allowing them to flap down at his sides.