He could feel her gaze on his face, studying; he glanced at her, arched a brow.
She held his gaze. “What have you done? Tell me.”
He debated whether to inform her he wasn’t one of her brothers, but couldn’t see it stopping her interrogation. “I’ve asked Tante Felicité and her bosom-bows to keep their ears open. I told her the bare bones of what happened yesterday—she and the few other grandes dames who were present were shocked and suitably outraged.” He squeezed her fingers before she could protest. “This is the sort of thing that in different circumstances might happen to them. They have a vested interest in ensuring the customs of the ton aren’t manipulated for subversive purposes.”
Alicia frowned, then nodded, conceding the point. “I’ll tell you if Adriana or I encounter any difficulties.” She continued to study his face; he seemed more tense, more on edge than he usually was. “What else did you do today?”
He paused, to her now-informed eye deciding where to start rather than deciding whether to speak.
“I passed the information about the ships on to Jack Hendon.”
“The friend who owns a shipping line?”
“Yes. Now he knows what to look for, we’ll get along faster. I also sent word to another friend who’s checking along the southwest coast. With luck, we’ll have a clearer idea of what’s been happening soon, then we can start following the trail back to the perpetrator.”
“A. C.” Remembering the fright of the day before, she shivered. Feeling Tony’s gaze on her face, she met it. “He must be someone quite knowledgeable, mustn’t he? He knew how to start those first rumors, knew how to trick Bow Street into seizing me.”
Lips set, he nodded. “He’s intelligent, and cold-blooded.”
He hesitated, then went on, his fingers absentmindedly stroking the back of her hand. “I heard back from Smiggins. It seems his ‘anonymous information’ came via a flower seller who’d been paid by a well-to-do gentleman, one expensively dressed, to take the information to the Watch. She can’t describe the man beyond that.”
The vision of a gentleman wrapped in an expensive coat with an astrakhan collar, viewed through the mists of a chilly night, slid through Tony’s mind. For him, A. C. was no phantom, but a dangerous adversary, one he’d yet to put a name to.
Which, of course, only made it harder to protect Alicia from the danger. He let his gaze drift to Adriana’s circle; through her connection with Alicia, she, too, was in danger. There were six gentlemen gathered about her; Sir Freddie Caudel was, as usual, one of the crew. He was engaged in describing some play to Adriana; prettily, she hung on his words, her attention politely all his, at least for the moment. Tony was not at all surprised to see Geoffrey hovering even more determinedly, more definitely possessive.
From beside him came a small humph. “I daresay, if Lord Manningham is all you and Mr. King tell me he is, then I’ll shortly be entertaining an offer from him.”
He glanced at Alicia, caught her eye. “I should think that’s a foregone conclusion.” He paused, then asked, “Will she, and you, accept Geoffrey’s suit?”
She looked at Geoffrey and Adriana, hesitated, then nodded. “If she’s happy, and if he wishes to hold to his offer once he’s fully informed of the family’s circumstances.”
He arched a brow. “Circumstances?” He knew precisely what she meant—the fact she and her brood were as poor as church mice. She, however, didn’t know he knew; he wondered when she’d tell him.
She met his gaze, her expression open. “There’s the boys, of course, and myself—not every gentleman wants to marry into such a close family.”
More fool them. He raised his brows noncommittally, and let the matter slide. Time enough to see how she reacted to his proposal once he’d made it. With her and her family in A. C.’s sights, eliminating A. C. had to be his top priority; there would be time aplenty to speak of marriage once they were safe.
More guests were arriving; her ladyship’s rooms were fast filling. He remained by Alicia’s side; with only two weeks to go before the start of the Season, tonnish entertainments once more resembled the melee he recalled, one through which wolves of various hues prowled.
Felicité waved from across the room, then Lady Holland stopped by to compliment Alicia on her and Adriana’s gowns. The comment drew his notice; as usual, the sisters were superbly turned out…again he wondered how they managed it. Then he recalled Adriana’s preoccupation with fashion; she was forever sketching the latest designs, or similar designs artfully modified.
He looked again at their stylish attire. Understanding dawned; he saw Adriana in a new light.
“Good evening, Torrington—I trust you will introduce me to your lovely companion. I do not believe I have yet had the pleasure of making her acquaintance.”
The perfectly modulated tones, still distinctly accented, jolted him from his thoughts. Lowering his gaze, he smiled easily and bowed. “Your Grace.” His gaze passed on to the lady—yet another grande dame if appearances spoke true—by Her Grace of St. Ives’s side. The lady smiled with charm, and a hint of determination.
“Allow me to present my sister-in-law, Lady Horatia Cynster.” The Duchess of St. Ives smiled at him, pale eyes alight. She waited while he bowed over Lady Horatia’s hand, then continued, “Bon! And now you may introduce us both to this lady, if you please.”
He nearly laughed; one of his mother’s oldest and dearest friends, Helena, Duchess of St. Ives, was both incorrigible and unstoppable. She was a petite force of nature, and woe betide any who thought to say her nay. He turned to Alicia. She met his eyes; he smiled encouragingly. “Ladies—Mrs. Alicia Carrington, allow me to present Helena, Duchess of St. Ives, and Lady Horatia Cynster.”
Alicia dipped into a curtsy of precisely the right degree.
Impulsively, Helena took her hand and waved her up. “Your sister is ravissante, as all the ton now knows, but you, too, will do very well I believe.”
Alicia smiled, but demurred. “I seek only to establish my sister.”
Helena bent on her a look of patent incomprehension, then glanced at her sister-in-law.