had a sharp mind and blunt tongue to go with her generous heart.
“What is it then?” Gabby asked, her blue eyes confused.
“Over by the potted palms,” Tessa muttered. “Well, don’t all look at once. He’ll see you looking, and Fancy wouldn’t want that.”
Taking turns, Gabby and Maggie peered over at Knight and Imogen before quickly turning back to the group.
“Who is she?” Gabby asked in a hushed voice.
“Lady Imogen Cardiff,” Maggie said. “I don’t know her well. Her husband is an acquaintance of Ransom’s.”
“She and Knight knew each other as children.” Fancy spoke up before her friends could speculate any further. “They’re just old friends.”
“Then why do you look like a puppy that just got kicked?” Tessa asked.
“Fancy doesn’t look like a puppy.” Gabby paused, her auburn brows knitting. “Well, except around the eyes, but I mean that as the greatest compliment. Your eyes are ever so soulful, Fancy.”
“Um, thank you.” Swallowing, Fancy confided, “I just wish I was as elegant as Lady Cardiff.”
“She’s not that elegant,” Tessa said in the way of a loyal friend. “And you’re prettier.”
“Sometimes it is not just about being pretty though, is it?” Gabby’s eyes rounded with sympathy. “It’s about feeling like you are. It took me a long time to feel confident in my looks…and in myself.”
Fancy stared at the redhead, who looked ravishing in a violet taffeta gown that showed off her ample curves. “But you’re so lovely.”
“So are you,” Gabby returned. “But it doesn’t mean anything unless you feel your own worth.”
“If a lady doesn’t feel beautiful,” Tessa put in, “then I blame the husband.”
“Knight is the most considerate of husbands,” Fancy protested.
“Drawing room considerate?” Tessa raised her brows. “Or bedchamber considerate?”
“I’m not shocked,” Fancy said, although her cheeks throbbed with heat. “He’s considerate…um, everywhere.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Tessa declared.
“I second that notion, and I can do that without inquiring about the, ahem, rooms of your marriage.” Maggie leaned forward, her smile conspiratorial. “Knighton might be conversing with Lady Cardiff, but he has been secretly looking your way this entire time.”
“Truly?” Fancy breathed.
“Not only is he looking your way, now he’s headed here,” Tessa said in an urgent rush. “We cannot let him know we were talking about him. Quick, ladies, laugh.”
Thus, Fancy found herself joining in, with no idea what she was laughing at.
“Good evening, ladies.” Knight’s deep voice cut in. “May I join the loveliest and merriest group at the ball?”
“Of course you may, Your Grace,” Maggie said with a smile.
Knight picked up Fancy’s hand, casually kissing the gloved knuckles. “Care to share the source of your hilarity, sweeting?”
Fancy stammered, “W-we were, um, just laughing over…over…”
Her brain froze; she was a terrible liar.
“Puppies,” Gabby blurted.
Knight tilted his head quizzically. “What is so amusing about puppies, Mrs. Garrity?”
“Oh, you know, they’re round and, um, ever so soft…and have such big, soulful eyes. Some have the cutest spots, too,” Gabby babbled, her face as red as her hair.
Clearly, she was no better at lying than Fancy was.
“I…see,” Knight said, giving her a strange look.
Luckily, the other husbands materialized at their wives’ sides, providing a welcome distraction. Ransom, a dashing fellow with a short beard and mustache, apologized to the group, saying that he had a dancing emergency…and whisked his duchess off to the dance floor.
“I saw you ladies laughing uproariously,” Mr. Kent said to Tessa. “Care to share, sprite?”
“We were just gossiping, that’s all,” Tessa said blithely.
“I thought you were talking about puppies?” Knight lifted his brows.
“Amongst other topics, none of which were of consequence,” Tessa evaded deftly. “Gentlemen, now that we have you here, how goes the investigation of Fancy’s origins?”
Fancy had to hand it to Tessa: the lady knew how to take a situation in hand.
Mr. Garrity spoke first. “My men have located three Charleys who worked the streets of St. James’s. One recalled that a child went missing from a well-to-do merchant around the time in question, but the child was a boy.”
“We’ve had disappointing results in St. George Hanover Square,” Mr. Kent said, his bespectacled gaze somber. “Finding those Charleys takes leg work. When we do find them, I cannot tell if their reporting is reliable or if they are making up a story to get some coin.”
“That is because you’re honest, darling,” his wife said. “I can always tell when someone is lying.”
“Takes one to know one?” Mr. Kent said dryly. “Should I be worried?”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “I would never lie