last night. The charleys were asking around, but it seems she and her husband had a row, and you can guess the rest. I believe the husband has been taken away.”
“Domestic bliss,” Jamie repeated as he finished his drink.
Haddon laughed this time and nodded.
Jamie left his glass on the bar and returned to the stable yard. Old Cox handed him the reins and ducked his head, as if avoiding Jamie’s eyes. His horse danced sideways, skittish about something. Rather than mount, he led his horse out of the yard to the cobblestones, an uneasy feeling raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right.
He bent down to slip the dagger from his boot just as the report of a gunshot sounded close at hand. Brick and mortar scattered in a wide pattern behind him and his horse reared, frightened by the noise. He released the reins, knowing the well-trained animal would not bolt. He rolled to the side, coming up on his feet again near a doorway, his dagger in hand.
Suddenly the price on his head was not quite so amusing. He’d left his pocket pistol at home, not anticipating that he’d be visiting the rookeries tonight. The sound of running footsteps down an adjacent alley told him that the assassin had taken his best shot and was now making his escape.
He was in full pursuit down the alley, gaining on the culprit, when it occurred to him that this had all gone off too smoothly. He knew these streets well enough to know the assassin was leading him toward a blind alley. An ambush? But who would be waiting for him? Henley? The Gibbons brothers? He was alone. Should he take the chance?
“Oh! I nearly swooned when I saw him waltz you out the terrace door!”
Gina gave Hortense a bland smile. “Nothing happened. He was merely inquiring as to my mother’s health.”
“Was he, indeed?” Harriett teased. “And why should your mother’s health be a concern of his?”
Gina laughed. “My mother’s health is everyone’s concern. She makes it so at every encounter.”
“Then you cannot confirm or deny the rumors concerning Mr. Hunter’s…skills?”
“Alas.” Indeed. The memory of that brief moment of promise brought a little smile to her lips.
“Ah! I see you are gaining confidence, Gina.” Harriett squeezed her hand and winked at her sister. “Our little protégé is blooming.”
Yes, she was gaining confidence but she was far from being at ease. She was acutely aware that there could be men present who had heard of her ordeal. Perhaps even a few who had been there, who had seen her. Though they were unlikely to mention it, she had felt the weight of clandestine eyes upon her.
She glanced around the ballroom as they strolled toward the punch bowl, wondering if James Hunter was still there, watching her. When her eye caught Miss Metcalfe dancing a lively reel with an eager young man, she was suddenly struck with a memory. Metcalfe! Was that not a name she’d heard before? A man who had been a friend of Mr. Henley and who had been at that scandalous tableau?
“Harriett, what can you tell me about Miss Metcalfe?” she asked. “Does she have family?”
“Goodness, yes! A handsome brother by the name of Stanley.”
“Is he here tonight?”
Hortense craned her neck to look about in one direction while Harriett scanned the other. “I do not see him. Come to think of it, Harri, have we seen him at all in the last few weeks?”
Harriett chortled. “No, but it does not matter. I do not think he would suit you, Gina.”
“Oh?”
“He is engaged to a dear friend of ours. Miss Christina Race. Have you met her?”
Gina shook her head. In truth, she’d met very few people since arriving in London.
“She and Missy have been almost inseparable since the engagement, have they not, Hortense?”
Hortense nodded. “Like peas in a pod. Would you like to meet them? The reel is almost over and I believe I saw Christina near the fireplace.”
Her heart beating harder, Gina donned an airy smile. “That would be lovely. The more people I meet, the less you will have to coddle me.”
“Pshaw!” Harriett laughed. “We adore coddling you, Gina. Why, introducing a pretty newcomer lends us a certain mystery and importance we do not possess on our own.”
Gina laughed. She had noted how many heads the twins had turned, and not just because they were identical. They certainly did not need an unknown newcomer to gain attention.
The twins flanked her as they headed toward the fireplace at one end of the ballroom, nodding at acquaintances as they passed. Their progress was slow and perfectly timed to coincide with the end of the reel.
Gina had been watching the dancers and when they stopped she turned her attention back to the group at the fireplace. Surprise coupled with a twist of her stomach shot through her. There stood a lovely woman of average height with glossy black hair and eyes nearly as dark. Her fair complexion deepened with the pink of a blush as she recognized Gina’s face. The woman from the tableau—and she was engaged to Mr. Metcalfe!
Hortense performed the introduction. “Miss Eugenia O’Rourke, I am pleased to present our dearest friend, Miss Christina Race. Miss Race, please meet Miss O’Rourke.”
Gina noted the tiny plea in those eyes. Clearly the woman did not want to acknowledge their previous acquaintance. How could they ever explain that away? She took a deep breath. “Miss Race, how nice to make your acquaintance. I pray you will not hold these two against me,” she said with a nod toward the twins.
The woman smiled and squeezed Gina’s hand in gratitude. “If you will do the same, Miss O’Rourke.”
Harriett arched one elegant eyebrow. “Come now. Our reputations are not quite that bad.”
Laughing and jesting with a young man over her shoulder, Miss Metcalfe returned from the dance floor and was quickly introduced. “O’Rourke? Is your sister the one who finally tamed Lord Libertine?”
Gina frowned, unfamiliar with the title.
Hortense laughed. “She means Andrew Hunter, Gina. That was our pet name for him until your sister domesticated him.”
She smiled. “Yes, then. Isabella married Mr. Hunter and they seem quite content.”
Miss Metcalfe sighed as she fanned herself. “That gives the rest of us hope, then. If he succumbed to the parson’s mousetrap, there can be hope that one of us might yet snare James or Charles Hunter.”
“I…I wouldn’t know, Miss Metcalfe.”
“Yet I saw you dance with James,” she said, almost like an accusation. “That is, until he sneaked you out to the garden.”
Gina was taken aback by the woman’s bluntness. “He was doing his duty to me, Miss Metcalfe. And reminding me to mind my manners.”
Miss Metcalfe fell silent after
