Mischief in Regency Society: To Catch a Rogue. Amanda McCabe

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      “Yes, probably from the duke’s masquerade ball, as we discussed at our last meeting,” Calliope answered. “We must formulate a plan to prevent it.”

      “I am ready to defend her at any moment!” Thalia cried. She leaped up from her chair, eyes aglow as she no doubt imagined herself wielding a sword against any would-be thief. “Only give me the signal and I shall do battle.”

      “Thalia, dear, do sit down,” Clio said, shaking her head. “We don’t need Boadicea and the Iceni hordes to keep an eye on one little statue.”

      “You never know,” Thalia said, plopping back into her seat. “What if the Lily Thief has a partner? An army?”

      “Even if he had a battalion—which he does not, for how could a battalion sneak into Lady Tenbray’s library?—he could not get by us,” Calliope said.

      “What is the plan?” asked Emmeline. “What are we to do?”

      “I made up a list of anyone who might even remotely be suspected of being the Lily Thief,” Calliope said, holding up her list from last night’s sleepless hours. “Everyone in the ton received an invitation to the ball, so they are sure to be there. You will each be assigned one or two names. Your task will be to ascertain what each man’s costume is, and then keep an eye on them, make certain they do not try to slip away.”

      “I hope you do not want me to trail Freddie Mountbank,” Emmeline said. “He’s already made himself a nuisance in my life!”

      “Mr Mountbank is not even on the list,” Calliope answered, remembering the quarrel Mountbank got into with Lord Westwood right in view of these very windows. “And we must not be at all obvious about our observations. We wouldn’t want to give the wrong idea.”

      “Perhaps we should work in pairs,” Lotty suggested. “That would make it easier for us to trail anyone who might try to slip away.”

      “Oh, very good idea, Lotty,” Calliope said. She reached for Clio’s pen and quickly made the amendments to the list. “All right, then, ladies, here are your assignments.”

      Thalia handed out the papers to the Society members. They bent over them eagerly, laughing and exclaiming.

      “Mr Emerson!” Lotty said. “It would certainly be no hardship to watch him. He is so handsome.”

      “Nor Lord Mallow,” said Emmeline. “But what of Mr Hanson? I wouldn’t have thought he could plot a stroll to the end of the street, let alone a theft.”

      Calliope rapped her gavel against the table, bringing order back to the gathering. “Now that you have your assignments, this is how we shall proceed on the night of the ball…”

      “Do you think it will work?” Emmeline asked quietly, coming up next to Calliope, who stood staring out the window.

      Calliope glanced back at the others, gathered around the pianoforte as Thalia played them a Beethoven nocturne. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “The ball is sure to be a dreadful crush. How can we watch just a few people? People in disguise, no less. Yet I can’t just stand here and let that statue be stolen without at least trying to do something.”

      “I know. We all care so very much, we want to save them all. Make sure they are all properly looked after and studied,” Emmeline said. “There are only five of us, though. But we will do our very best to save the Alabaster Goddess, Calliope, never fear. She never had more devoted acolytes, even in her temple in Greece.”

      They were quiet for a moment, listening to Thalia’s beautiful music, watching the traffic on the street below. Emmeline leaned closer to murmur, “Did you assign yourself Lord Westwood to watch, Calliope?”

      Calliope looked to her, startled. “I thought Clio could do that.”

      “Oh, no, I really think it should be you. The two of you are always circling each other like wary hawks anyway.”

      “We do not!” Calliope cried. The others glanced towards them, and she hastily lowered her voice. “I do not circle Lord Westwood, Emmeline. Whatever do you mean?”

      “Oh, Calliope dear. Everyone sees it. Whenever you are in a room together smoke practically billows. My brother even tells me you are in the books at his club.”

      “The books! People are wagering on me?” Calliope felt a sick, sour pang deep in her stomach, an ache of sinking embarrassment. “How dare they! What—what are they saying?”

      “Are you sure you want to know?” Emmeline said, her eyes full of concern. “I should never have brought it up.”

      “Of course you should. If people are talking about me, I want to know.”

      “Well, half of them wager you will be married by the end of the Season. The other half wagers one of you will be in Newgate for murdering the other.”

      Calliope pressed her hand against her stomach. “What does your brother wager?”

      “Calliope! He would never do that to a friend.”

      “Come now, Emmeline. He is a man. Wagering seems to be in their very veins. They cannot help themselves.”

      “Well, if he does he doesn’t tell me about it. I was much too angry with him for not putting a stop to it.”

      “People are always full of such tittle-tattle. They must be desperate for gossip indeed to make up Banbury tales about such a dullard as me! Where do they find that kind of nonsense?”

      Emmeline eyed her closely. “It is not entirely made of whole cloth, you know. You and Lord Westwood snap and quarrel every time you meet, or if you don’t speak you glower at each other from across the room. What are people to think?”

      Calliope now felt ill in earnest. She sat down heavily in the nearest chair, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

      “Calliope, dear, you really didn’t know?” Emmeline asked.

      “I have been so engrossed in my own studies,” Calliope murmured. “Worrying about the Lily Thief. I suppose I was just oblivious. My mother always did say that living in my own little world would get me into trouble one day.”

      “It is hardly trouble,” Emmeline said. “It’s not as if you were caught kissing him! You’re right, it’s just silly gossip from people who have nothing better to do. It will soon be gone, replaced by something else and forgotten. My brother says they also wager on whether or not Prinny is the Lily Thief, so you see how serious their betting books are!”

      Calliope laughed reluctantly. The vision of the prince, fat, red-faced and encased in a creaking corset climbing in windows and picking locks was so absurd it nearly drove out those sick feelings.

      “Just ignore them, Calliope,” Emmeline said. “Their ignorance deserves no response. In the meantime, why don’t we go for a stroll in the park? It is too fine a day to stay indoors, and we all need time to think over our plan for the ball.”

      “I would like some fresh air,” Calliope admitted.

      “Excellent! I will tell the others.”

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