it to her sister. Besides, if she did tell Ceci what she had seen, then she would have to explain how she came to be in the gentlemen’s wing, and it was all much too complicated to go into right now. It was so much easier to worry about Darwell’s concerns than her own headaches. “Poor Darwell. I must think of a solution.” Beatrice sat on the sofa, pressing her lips together, eyes narrowed in concentration.
“We have to dress. At least pretend you are interested in what you’re wearing.”
“A dress is not important when I have so much on my mind,” Beatrice said.
“Bitsy, Darwell needs the distraction.”
“Yes, I know, but I think it would help as much if I could think of a way to convince her that Miss Wilson is not in any immediate danger.” Beatrice thought for a moment and realized that she herself was not quite convinced. “Should I go to the countess?”
“And tell her what, sister?” Cecilia asked with her usual practicality. “Lord Jessup asked you to keep his story a secret, and he is already viewed with suspicion by our godmother. Darwell cannot speak to the maid. It’s up to Lord Jess to solve the problem.”
“That’s easy to say, but what can he do? He is, after all, the one whom everyone blames for the incident.”
“Ladies,” Darwell called from the dressing room. “Come and look at these gowns and let me help you dress.”
“We are coming, Darwell,” Cecilia said agreeably with an insistent look at her sister.
“I will pretend,” Beatrice said with a resigned sigh. Dressing did prove a distraction after all.
“These gowns are better suited to a ball than to a country party dinner, Darwell.” Cecilia fingered the exquisite silk, a blue that Beatrice knew was one of her favorite colors, festooned with faux flowers the size of guineas in shades of blue fading to white. The floral trim ran around the neckline, down the sides, and along the edge of the flounces.
“I told you, tonight is special,” Darwell reminded her, “and is this not the most special of the gowns you have with you?”
“Yes, it is.” Cecilia began to smile. “What is Beatrice going to wear?”
Darwell held up another gown. It was a pale apricot color with gold and peach bead trim around the neck. The beading also circled the dress at the waist and was echoed between the knee and ankle, where Cecilia’s dress had ruffles.
“It’s perfect for you, Beatrice.”
“Yes, but I do wish I could wear ruffles.”
Darwell made a sound of frustration. “I’ve told you before that they do not suit someone of your size. It will have to be one of life’s disappointments, miss.”
Beatrice smiled and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. A gown without ruffles was hardly one of life’s disappointments. No, not when she was attracted to the wrong man in everyone’s eyes but her own.
When they were ready to join the party, Cecilia looked at herself in the glass “one more time” and followed her sister and Darwell, who shepherded them downstairs to the large banquet hall, a space that could seat at least one hundred, maybe more.
The first thing Beatrice noticed was that Jess was at the end of the room that was farthest from the door, talking to Lord Belmont, Nora Kendrick, and Finch.
The four were standing in front of a small orchestra whose members were quietly tuning their instruments.
The conversation was animated and as Beatrice watched, trying to decipher some sense of what they were discussing, Jess looked up and caught her eye.
He bowed to her, but did not immediately end his conversation with the couple to come greet her. Not that she expected him to. Or even wanted him to. Quite the opposite, in fact. They were friends, not lovers, and friends did not abandon all to rush to the other’s side. In fact she would do her best to keep this much distance between them for the entire evening, if only because being close to him made her weak in the knees.
With a condescending nod, she raised her eyes from his and gasped. The orchestra was placed under a spectacular painting of Venice—or was it a mural?—that filled the wall from the wainscoting to within a foot of the ceiling.
How could she have missed that when she walked in? It was the only painting in the room. The other walls were windowed and the wall behind her was mostly filled with doors, three sets, with marble statues in between.
“Look at