flicker of something passed through his eyes as he straightened and met her gaze. “Have we met, Miss O’Rourke? I could swear I’ve seen those remarkable eyes before.”
He’d been at the tableau. Had he been at the ritual? She slowly withdrew her hand from his and forced a smile. “You are too kind, Mr. Booth. I doubt we have met since I have not been much in society. In any case, I am certain I’d have remembered a gentleman as handsome as you.”
He grinned and the tension went out of his posture. “Well, I shan’t forget you again, Miss O’Rourke. Alas, I must be off to meet friends but I pray you will save me a dance ‘til the next time we meet.” He bowed over her hand.
She gave him a stiff smile. Had there been something familiar in his request, or was she being overly sensitive? “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Booth.”
Alone now, the ladies proceeded to discuss Mr. Booth and his various attributes—the width of his shoulders, the color of his gray-blue eyes, the size of his…bank account. Gina relaxed, the conversation so similar to those she’d had with her sisters long before any of them married.
“And you, Miss O’Rourke? Who do you prefer?” Miss Race asked.
“I am far too new to the scene to have a preference,” she said, though Jamie Hunter’s face came to mind.
“My dear,” Harriett said, “I know just what you mean. Why, if Miss Race hadn’t already taken Mr. Metcalfe, I might cast my cap in that direction.”
Gina seized that opportunity. “When am I to meet Mr. Metcalfe?”
Missy Metcalfe rolled her eyes heavenward. “I can’t imagine where he’s been keeping himself. Between his friends and his club, we scarcely see him at home anymore. Why, Christina sees him more than we.”
They all turned to Miss Race for confirmation.
“I, uh, did see him earlier tonight. I believe he said he was gambling with a few of his friends.”
“Men,” Hortense said, as if that explained everything.
Miss Race drew herself up as if she’d made a sudden decision. “Accompany me to the ladies’ retiring room, Miss O’Rourke? I’d love to hear about your native land. I’ve never been to Ireland, though Stanley and I have discussed taking our wedding trip there.” She linked arms with Gina, leading her away from the group.
When they were out of hearing, Miss Race pulled Gina into a private corner. “I must thank you for not giving me away. I saw that you recognized me, too, and I prayed you would not mention it to the others.”
Gina gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’d have had to give myself away, Miss Race, and I was not about to do that.”
“Call me Christina,” she said before rushing on. “And I want to assure you that I do not frequent such places as the one where we first met. Stanley had been invited by some of his friends and did not understand the sort of…affair it was to be, or he swears he never would have taken me. And I …
well, I could see that you were not accustomed to such things either.”
“I had never seen a complete stranger unclothed before. But to do so in such a public manner, and in such a pose, was a great surprise to me.”
“Wicked London,” Christina murmured. “There is quite a different world here than the one we inhabit, Miss O’Rourke.”
She weighed the risk of mentioning Mr. Henley so soon, but she hadn’t much time herself. “You must call me Gina, then. Meeting you has been quite fortuitous. You see, I am actually looking for some of the people in our group that night.”
The woman shuddered. “Why?”
“I lost something that night, and I believe one of them might have it, or know where it is.”
“I cannot recall anyone finding something that night. But I wish you luck of it, Gina, and I must say I admire your courage. For myself, I hope never to see any of them again.”
“Oh. I understand.” Gina turned away.
“I did not mean you!” Christina stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Did you know them all—the people in our group?”
She shook her head and looked down at the floor as if searching her mind. “That was the first time I stole away to go anywhere privately with Stanley. I did not know many of his friends, then, and I have not seen those particular ones since. Most were like you, complete strangers.”
“Would you ask Mr. Metcalfe if he remembers that night, and who was there? If he would be willing to meet with me, perhaps I could persuade him to help.”
Christina looked doubtful. “I shall ask him, of course, but I think he’d rather leave that night in the distant past.”
“Tell him that I urgently and desperately need his help. Tell him that my entire future depends upon it.”
Christina searched her face and then nodded. “My goodness! What did you lose?”
“Something irreplaceable. Something I must recover.”
“But of course I shall tell him, my dear. The very next time I see him.”
“Tomorrow?” she urged.
“I…Yes. Are you going to the Albermarle crush Tuesday next?”
She recalled seeing that name in the calendar and stack of invitations Lady Sarah had given her and nodded.
“I shall ask him to accompany me there.”
“Thank you.” Gina squeezed her arm in gratitude.
Chapter Five
Jamie seized the reins again and swung up into his saddle. He hadn’t wanted to disturb Devlin Farrell tonight, but now it couldn’t be helped. The brazen attack on his life had raised too many questions that only Farrell could answer.
The butler left Jamie to cool his heels in Farrell’s study, so he helped himself to a small glass of sherry and took the liberty of pouring one for Devlin. His nerves needed steadying. The warmth from the alcohol had just begun to untwist the knots in his stomach when Devlin entered the study, barefooted, his hair tousled, and still securing his dressing robe.
Jamie was amused to note the lack of a nightshirt where the robe gaped. From the expression on Devlin’s flushed face, he gathered he hadn’t exactly been sleeping. “Sorry,” he said as Devlin downed the contents of the waiting glass and glowered at him.
“I gather this is more important than what I was doing?”
Jamie grinned. “That would depend upon your priorities, I suppose. My life?”
Devlin looked him up and down. “You seem none the worse for wear.”
“I was fortunate. Even so, I barely ducked in time.”
“Ducked?
