Earl's Well That Ends Well (The Way to a Lord's Heart #5) - Jane Ashford Page 0,26

illuminated the premises for a performance was unlit, as were the central chandelier and the row of footlights. Only a few candles in covered sconces burned, leaving the place dim and cavernous.

Tom escorted them to a room in the back where they found the opera dancers he’d gathered during a break from rehearsal. They were clustered around a table that held an array of confections from Gunter’s. Tom had suggested, powerfully, that Arthur should order the sorts of things served at a society ball, and he had complied. Watching the dancers revel in the food, Arthur didn’t begrudge the sum.

A babble of chatter trailed off into silence when they entered, though chewing continued. Some of the girls gathered more treats as if they feared this largesse would be snatched away by the newcomers. They were all very thin, Arthur saw. One didn’t notice so much when they were dancing. The ballets strove for an ethereal impression. But close up they looked too fragile, their eyes large in delicate faces. Most had wrapped shawls over their gowns as if they were cold, though the room didn’t seem so to him. He was glad that he’d provided sustenance for these waifish creatures.

Tom was the only person present who was acquainted with everybody, and he naturally took charge. He chose to begin with group introductions. “These are my friends the dancers,” he said to one side of the room. “And these are my friends the young ladies who solve mysteries,” he told the other.

This brought a hoot of derision. Arthur didn’t see which of the dancers had made it, but none of them looked impressed.

“They do and all,” Tom responded. “I seen them find a treasure out in the country.”

“I could use a treasure,” replied a wan, yellow-haired girl.

“What about the gentlemen?” asked another dancer. “Are they looking for treasures as well?” She rolled her eyes at Arthur.

“I got a treasure I could show them.” A girl with brown curls shook her hips. “Right popular it is with the gentlemen too.”

“I’m surprised it ain’t worn out with looking,” said the first girl.

“Now, Bella,” said Tom.

The innuendo didn’t seem to unsettle him. Compton looked embarrassed, and the young ladies exhibited varying degrees of uneasiness. Arthur wondered again if this had been a good idea. The dancers were not welcoming. He glanced at Señora Alvarez. She stood to one side, observing.

“So we want to try and figure out what happened to Odile and Sonia and Maria,” Tom added.

“Those cows,” commented a voice from the back of the dancers’ group.

“Going off and leaving us to fill in their parts,” said another.

“Foreigners,” declared a dancer with a London accent. “I say, let ’em go back where they came from. And good riddance.”

From the glares exchanged, Arthur concluded there were two camps among the dancers—the English and the others.

“And if there is nothing to go back to, after the war?” asked Señora Alvarez. Her clear voice cut through the muttering. Her dark eyes were steady on those who had complained.

The dancers fell silent, though some heads were tossed. They obviously respected the señora, Arthur thought. No one wanted to argue with her.

“We’re all the same in one way,” said the yellow-haired Bella. “Nobody cares what happens to the likes of us.”

“I do,” said Tom. “I want to be certain Odile and Sonia and Maria are all right.” He repeated the names as if reciting an incantation. “That’s why I brought help. And I’d do the same for any of you who was gone with no word.”

“Would you?” asked several of the dancers at the same time. The girls exchanged glances.

“’Course I would.” Tom smiled. Most of the girls smiled back. They liked him as they might a younger brother, Arthur decided with a brush of relief. “So what d’you reckon?” the lad added. “Anybody know where they went? Did they say anything just before?”

The group arranged itself. Dancers settled cross-legged on the floor or leaned against a wall, fortified with more of Gunter’s confections. Miss Moran opened a small notebook and poised a pencil over it. The other young ladies ranged themselves around her, while Compton adopted them as a shield and hovered behind. Tom escorted Señora Alvarez to the lone chair as if she was royalty, and Arthur posted himself beside her.

Tom returned to the middle of the room. “All right then,” the lad said. “What do we know about Odile and Sonia and Maria?”

Several dancers threw out answers. The missing girls came from France and Spain,