Page 82 of A Most Unlikely Lady
‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Inclining his head in a regal bow, he turned and left as slowly as he arrived.
‘One day.’
‘Yes, yes. You’ll sack him. I know.’ Edward failed to hide his smile. While danger awaited only a few hours away as they prepared to draw out the Wolf, for the first time in forever, he felt a sense of hope.
* * *
Ivy must have lost her mind. She never should have agreed to let Philippa’s incredibly talented lady’s maid dress her for the ball. Delacroix was like a military general, pulling, tugging, pinning, twisting. But the effects were astounding. Her fair hair was twisted into a sleek knot at her crown. Wisps spilled out like a waterfall of silvery blonde around her face. Rubies were clipped strategically to look like clusters of roses. Looking at herself in the full-length glass, Ivy was lost for words.
Her dress – another Madame Collette miracle – was crimson red. A colour Ivy would never choose. It drew far too much attention. And the cut of her neckline was two sneezes away from being completely indecent. Delacroix had done some magic with Ivy’s corset. While she was fairly confident her ribs were broken, she no longer resembled a flat plank of wood.
‘One of the advantages to small breasts is much more plunging necklines. You look marvellous, Ivy.’ Millie stood on one side of her as Hannah came from behind with a wickedly sharp dagger.
‘Here, put this in the pocket. Do you have a pistol?’
Ivy nodded. ‘Yes.’ She patted one side of her skirt and slipped the dagger into the other side. ‘I don’t know what to say to Edward.’
‘Tell him he’s being a right blockhead. If that doesn’t work, drag him to Philippa’s back parlour and show him exactly what he’ll be giving up if he doesn’t pull his head out of his arse.’ Penny stood behind Ivy.
When Ivy arrived at Philippa’s after receiving her note, she expected her mentor would be there. She did not expect to see Millie, Hannah, and Penny with their own maids, all crowded into Philippa’s private suite of rooms. Apparently, Philippa had extended her invitation to all the Queen’s Deadly Damsels. Ivy spent the afternoon letting Delacroix work her magic while she poured her heartache out to her friends. They had much advice to give, ranging from cutting off his bollocks –thank you, Hannah– kidnapping him and stealing away to a cottage in the woods until he came to his senses –wonderful idea, Millie, though I don’t have any spare cottages at the moment– and now dragging him to an empty room during a charity ball and accosting the man –interesting tactic, Penny, but requiring a mite more confidence than I currently claim.
There was a knock on the door, and Philippa’s butler, a portly man with the posture of a military commander, stepped inside. ‘Lord Drake, Lord Killian, and Lord Reynard have arrived.’
Millie pinched her cheeks in the mirror and pressed her lips together. ‘We should go down. The guests will be arriving any minute. Don’t be nervous, Ivy. We’re all here to support you. Just stand up there in front of the entire beau monde and convince those self-absorbed, horrible prigs to give a fig about orphans. Then, wait for the Wolf to emerge. Simple as a Sunday pudding.’
Ivy felt ill. ‘Yes. Well. I’ve always hated pudding.’
Hannah squeezed her arm. ‘You’ll do grand, Ivy. Try imagining everyone with peacock feathers coming out of their noses.’
‘Or that no one is wearing trousers, but they all have chicken legs,’ Penny added helpfully.
As the women rustled to the door in layers of silk, crinoline, and lace, Philippa approached from where she had been staring out of a large window to the grounds beneath. ‘Ivy, may I have a word before we descend?’
Millie was at the door and paused, turning back to them. ‘Is anything amiss?’
Philippa waved her on. ‘No, I just need a private moment with Ivy.’
‘Right. We’ll see you down there.’ With a little wave, she hurried after Hannah and Penny.
Ivy’s belly dropped as she looked at her mentor. Philippa’s sharp gaze, usually so direct, seemed to land on every object in the room except for Ivy. ‘What is wrong, Philippa? You look… anxious. And you never look anxious.’
‘I want you to be careful tonight, Ivy. Remember your training. And if there is any unforeseen trouble, stay calm. Trust your instincts. And don’t hesitate to strike if you’re given an opportunity.’
In the flurry of activity leading up to the ball, it was easy for Ivy to forget the inherent danger. But members of the Devil’s Sons would be leading ladies around the dance floor, sipping on the ratafia, smoking their cheroots, and watching. Always watching as Ivy took centre stage and threw down her gauntlet. Instead of fear, Ivy felt a defiant pulse of anger course through her.Good. Let them watch. Let them hear her words and know their brotherhood was under attack. Ivy had no intention of losing this war. They should fear her.
‘I won’t hesitate, Philippa. You have trained me well. I’m ready.’
‘I would speak to you about another issue.’
Ivy nodded as Philippa flicked open her fan and examined the jewelled patterns.
‘Edward came to see me today.’
Every muscle in Ivy’s body tightened. The pulse in her neck beat hard against her skin. ‘Did he?’ She tried to remain nonchalant, but the words emerged as a squeak.
‘He did. I know he spoke to you of Liza.’
Ivy’s heart dropped with heavy grief for her friend. ‘I am so sorry for your loss, Philippa. I can’t imagine how painful it is for you.’
