“There will be at least one hundred and fifty ladies there, all dressed in their finest jewels. Why would a jewel thief choose you? And why in a crowded room? No, you don’t have to worry about jewel thieves. You need to keep a lookout for Nicholas Drake.”
“You know he’s still alive?”
His only indication of surprise was a slight rise in his eyebrows. “I didn’t know he died.”
Blast. I hadn’t been going to tell him or anyone else outside the Archivist Society that I’d talked to Drake or that we’d thought he was dead. Until I knew why a duke was going to all this trouble for the Archivist Society, I didn’t feel I could trust him. “We can’t be sure until we see him.”
“Hopefully, you will at the ball. I’ve set a plan in motion that Drake won’t be able to resist. You’ll be there as both sentinel and bait.” He raised his head and his voice. “Lady Westover, will the dresses be such that no man will be able to resist them?”
“I certainly hope so, Duke. We have such good material to work with.”
He looked me over from head to toe. “Yes, we do.”
I held his gaze as heat crept up my face. No man had looked at me that way since I was barely older than Emma. I never thought I’d be flattered by a duke. Especially a duke who fevered my dreams.
After that, I was able to walk without thinking about the tiara. I was too busy trying to figure out what the Duke of Blackford had in mind. Sumner returned and whispered something in the duke’s ear. Then he returned to the corner, where his gaze never left Emma.
“Georgia,” Lady Westover said as she fell into step next to me, “I know what happened yesterday was not your fault. I should not have been angry with you. However, Honoria has been my friend for a very long time, and I hate to see her distressed.”
“I feel badly for her, and badly for you to see her so”—I searched for a euphemism—“despondent.”
“It would be terrible for her and the family if word were to spread of her . . . affliction.”
“It’s a shame her husband could drink himself under the table and no one in polite society would bat an eye, but his poor grieving wife can’t.”
Lady Westover’s stern expression told me my opinion was not welcome.
“I spoke to Lord Dutton-Cox. He mourns his daughter as much as his wife does. She needs to try to rely on him. Encourage her to talk to him, Lady Westover.”
“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, she needs privacy to regain her composure.”
“No one will hear of her lapse from me. I’ve already made the same promise to her daughter, Elizabeth. I can’t speak for the Dutton-Cox servants.”
“That’s all I ask, Georgia. That you allow her to suffer in peace. And hopefully she’ll regain her common sense.” She gave me a sharp look. “You went so far as to question her daughter after that unpleasant visit with Honoria?”
“Elizabeth came to visit me at the bookshop. She told me about their problems with Nicholas Drake and what her sister was like. She doesn’t seem worried that I’ll bother her mother again.”
“Good. I’m glad she’s showing some interest in her mother. Honoria’s going to need all the help she can get from her family.”
I nodded, and the tiara stayed in place. I gave her a surprised smile, and she patted my arm. Apparently I could be trusted as much as one of aristocratic birth.
“What costumes will Drake’s victims wear to the ball?” I asked.
“Waxpool and his grandchildren won’t be attending. Neither will the Dutton-Coxes or the Naylards,” Lady Westover said.
“The younger Dutton-Cox daughter, Elizabeth, will be attending with her husband, Viscount Dalrymple. They’re going as Cleopatra and Mark Antony,” the duke said, suddenly appearing at my side.
“This is her first masked ball as a married woman. Young women often run wild when they’re first freed from their chaperones,” Lady Westover said with a tsk.
“She couldn’t get away with it if Dalrymple wasn’t daring,” the duke said. “They’re well matched.”
“I know what you’re wearing,” I told the duke. “What about the Mervilles and Lord Hancock?”
“The Mervilles go as Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI every year. I don’t know about Hancock or his ward.”
I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Lady Westover, who shook her head. “I don’t know, either.”
When the duke proclaimed us ready, all the jewels were put away and then loaded into a small chest. “Would you ladies like a ride home in my carriage?”