Page 96 of Ghost in the Garden
Lady Swan had already stretched out her hand in greeting, and she did not withdraw it, though her eyes widened slightly—no doubt at Angela’s black silk ensemble with a solitary jet necklace at her throat.
“Mrs. Lambert! Thank you so much for coming at this distressing time. Our condolences upon your tragic loss. This is my husband, Sir Nicholas.”
Swan was more of a shock. He had one of those dark, brooding faces with a haughty, aristocratic nose and extraordinarily sharp eyes that served as a warning against complaisance. However, he was politeness itself, bowing over her black-gloved hand and murmuring his own words of sympathy.
Angela, aware that in this world, one did not discuss business upon arrival, merely inclined her head and passed on into the room.
In the sea of bright colors and glittering jewels, she must have stood out like a sore thumb, a specter at the feast. She meant to. A lackey offered her a glass of fizzing wine, which she took and then moved among the rich and the privileged, all here to flaunt their charitable credentials. Well, she could and would out-flaunt them there, too.
She encountered a few surprised glances, as Silver had warned her she would. Widows still in the full black of recent mourning did not attend large or frivolous events. Well, she would not stay for the frivolity. It might have been fun to dance with Caleb here, sharing the wonder of what they had achieved.
But Ida had removed all chance of that. Gin must finally have addled the woman’s brain. Angela’s planned takeover of the organization would have been much subtler, leaving her husband as the figurehead to trot out at parties like this one. Instead, with her house crawling with peelers and her cook under arrest for two murders, she would have to let Ida swing, and face these kinds of affairs quite alone.
But instead of feeling daunted, she discovered a sense of elation. These powerful people were wondering who she was, admiring her courage—or her eccentricity—in attending this charitable evening alone.
Since she knew no one, she had no need to speak to any of them, merely drifted among them. Music began, gentle and exquisite, and she followed it to the far end of the room, where a slightly raised platform had been set up by an area of uncarpeted, polished floor that was clearly meant for dancing. At the moment, people merely milled across it, greeting each other in the plummy accents Caleb had aspired to.
The musicians played various stringed instruments. Angela was surprised to see a young woman among them. She wore spectacles and a simple evening gown that was not new, and she played the violin. She drew Angela’s attention, not because she was particularly beautiful but because she was lost in the music she played, caring nothing for the wealth and chatter around her.
Angela’s gaze lingered.
“You are admiring the violinist, ma’am?”
Angela turned quickly, because she recognized the deep, soft voice. Mr. Solomon Grey, austerely handsome in strict evening dress, looked back at her with a faint smile. He did not seem remotely surprised to see her, but then, he wouldn’t. She had told Silver she meant to attend, and Silver had turned down the opportunity to work for her. A mistake the girl might yet learn to regret.
“Mr. Grey. Yes, there is something most appealing about her. I must ask Lady Swan for her name.”
“I can tell you that. She is Lady Grizelda Tizsa, a daughter of the Duke of Kelburn.”
It all proved how right she was to have encouraged Caleb to involve himself in carefully chosen charities. It really was the route to aristocratic associations.
“Perhaps you might introduce me later,” she said, more to depress Grey’s pretensions than because she actually thought he could truly perform such an introduction.
“I might,” Grey said, turning to the man approaching on his left. “In fact, here is her brother-in-law, Lord Trent. My lord, Mrs. Lambert.”
The lord inclined his fair, haughty head to her and clapped Grey on the shoulder in a familiar kind of way. Which was odd, considering Grey’s lowly living as an investigator. Though not quite so odd as the catch in Trent’s breath as Constance Silver materialized on Grey’s other side.
“Mrs. Silver, what an unexpected pleasure,” he said, his voice rich with some amusement Angela could not account for. Nor could she account for the gorgeous gown and jewels worn by the lowly investigator’s partner. Silver was, in fact, breathtakingly beautiful, which might have accounted for the male stares around her.
Angela was piqued to have been upstaged. No matter—this was her evening, and she would complete it with grace. She inclined her head to Silver, who returned the gesture. The faint smile on her lips was merely social and aimed at no one.
Unease seeped through Angela. She had the feeling she was missing something. Something she should have known or troubled to find out.
The music reached its close and was rewarded with enthusiastic applause. The violinist bowed with unexpected shyness and not a great deal of grace. But her moment in the limelight was short-lived. She moved over to make way for Sir Nicholas and Lady Swan.
“Our first thanks of the evening have to go to our distinguished musicians,” Sir Nicholas stated. “And I promise you will hear more of them later, including a duet my wife will perform with Lady Grizelda. But before we reach the fun part of the evening, my wife and I are most grateful that you have joined us in the much more serious purpose of raising money for the rehousing of London’s poorest.
“You are all aware of the horrific existence of slum dwellings and the vile conditions in which we, the richest country in the world, expect other human beings to live. The links between such places and disease and crime are too well known. As are other tragedies such as the recent collapse of a neglected building in St. Giles that killed and injured so many. The funds you have donated this evening, together with what we have already raised, will now make it possible to clear part of St. Giles of dangerous buildings and open sewers and build decent homes where people can live, rather than merely exist on the verge of early death for themselves and their children.
“Without being too somber, I am delighted to announce that our project begins next week with the best engineers and builders, closely supervised and overseen by our own board, headed by our kind patrons, His Grace of Kelburn and Lord Trent.”
He smiled. “And that, I think, is enough of announcements! Please—”
Thiswas Angela’s moment.
She stepped forward and said clearly, “Your pardon, sir, but might I make a short announcement, too?”
She had practiced that line and a few others in front of the mirror. She knew her accent was not perfect, but neither did it shriek Devil’s Acre. Following Silver’s advice, she did not try to impersonate the nobs. And she had everyone’s attention, even their respect for her widowhood.
