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She swept the duchess and her entourage into a private room, and once the parameters of need were established, the afternoon rushed by in a whirl of satins, crepes, cotton, and velvet.

It was decided that Ivy’s shape would best be set off by simple lines, decadent fabrics, and a silhouette far more daring than Ivy would ever dream of wearing.

The rest passed in a blur that brought her here, to this moment in her parlour, awaiting Worthington to escort her to the Widow’s Ball with the same amount of enthusiasm she imagined condemned men awaited escort to the hangman’s noose.

‘Delacroix has done a wonderful job with your hair, Ivy. You look ethereal.’ Philippa sat in the parlour, her left eyebrow raised dramatically as she admired the work of her talented lady’s maid.

She held a steaming cup full of mostly whiskey with a dash of tea.

Millie sat next to her, and Hannah claimed the wing-back chair.

Penny sat on the other side of the low table, fidgeting in her fresh green satin gown with lace appliqués along the bodice.

Ivy would wager the once maid, now marchioness wasn’t yet used to wearing the copious layers of cotton, linen, silk, and overly restrictive corsetry of a lady.

Ivy could commiserate as she futilely attempted a deep breath, the whale boning only digging deeper.

Millie gave her a reassuring smile. In all the flurry of activity, Ivy hadn’t had a chance to speak with her privately.

She desperately wished to confide in her friend about the wild thoughts and rogue feelings overtaking her normally reserved person.

Just the thought of Commissioner Worthington seeing her so exposed raised a cacophony of emotions within her she could only examine with the help of her dearest friend.

Fear, of course. Anxiety. But more troubling, a certain breathless anticipation. A tightening need. An unaccountable hope for… something. Though she couldn’t imagine what exactly she hoped for outside of her modest décolletage remaining within the insufficient material of her bodice.

‘Yes, you look quite beautiful.’ Hannah’s sharp gaze saw more than Ivy wished to expose.

While she hadn’t known the woman a full year yet, there was something unerringly trustworthy about Hannah.

Her keen intelligence and a certain depth of understanding made her a discerning friend.

While Ivy had no desire to share her sordid secrets with anyone, she instinctively knew Hannah would neither judge her nor think any less of Ivy for the sins she’d endured.

Indeed, Hannah’s own dubious past would allow a certain empathy for Ivy.

What a rare gift to have such friends. Ivy was luckier than most.

The silky strands framing her face brushed whisper-soft against her cheek.

While she only had a cracked oval mirror in her room no larger than a dinner plate, she was vain enough to have spent far more minutes than necessary staring at her reflection after Miss Delacroix pronounced her ready.

‘Quite beautiful’ was a stretch for a pale woman with a nose too large and mouth too wide, but she did look altogether… different.

Will Worthington notice?

Did she even want him to notice?

Yes.

The answer came before she had time to censor it. Nerves bubbled like sparkling wine in her belly.

‘I’m not sure how we’re supposed to conduct any kind of investigation with me in this dress. Can you imagine the gossip that will ensue?’ She refused to show her nerves.

Hannah tsked. ‘I know you are used to staying on the edges of society. I am always more comfortable in the shadows as well, Ivy. But a wise woman once told me when one is surrounded by jewels, even a diamond can fade into the background.’ Hannah shared a silent communique with Philippa.

‘I don’t understand.’ Ivy had lost her wits right along with her modest neckline and desperate need for self-preservation because Hannah’s words made no sense.

‘I think she means that when one is attending a dance like the Widow’s Ball, the best way to disappear is to look just as you do tonight, Ivy,’ Penny spoke softly.

‘Like a wanton?’ She heard the hysteria in her own voice.

I suppose I shan’t be hiding my nerves. So much for putting up a brave front. This is why I belong in the shadowed corners where it is safe.

Millie rose from the settee and walked over to where Ivy paced.

She placed a calming hand on her arm. ‘You will do wonderfully, Ivy. You are smart, and brave, and beautiful.’ She pulled her close, pressing a kiss against her cheek.

‘And if Worthington does anything you do not wish, I will use him as target practice until he’s more full of holes than a pincushion. ’

Ivy’s garbled laughter barely escaped her tight throat. How fervently she wished for a few moments alone with Millie to spill out her questions. Her worries and hopes.

Before Millie resumed her seat on the settee, she leaned close, whispering words only Ivy could hear. ‘And if there are things you do wish for him to do, that is also perfectly fine, Ivy. I promise all will be well.’

How can she possibly know what I wish when I hardly know myself?

And how was it that Millie could unerringly understand exactly what troubled Ivy without Ivy speaking a word of her confusion?

Because she is my best friend. And the best of friends know what is needed.

‘You are ready for this evening, Ivy. Your skills in defence and attack are far greater than you give yourself credit for, and if you need assistance, Edward will protect you. Of this, I’m certain.

’ Philippa’s cobalt eyes flashed with an undiscernible emotion.

She pressed her crimson lips together and rubbed her index finger against her thumb in an endless circle.

‘Of course. I shall be fine,’ Ivy lied through clenched teeth.

‘You have your pistol?’ Hannah asked, her own hand patting the pocket where she kept any number of weapons.

Ivy nodded. Madame Collette hadn’t so much as blinked when Philippa insisted pockets be sewn into Ivy’s full skirts. A muff pistol pressed against her right thigh while the reassuring weight of its twin balanced her left side.

‘And you are going to take a dagger in your reticule; one never knows when it might come in handy.’ Millie released one of her throwing knives from the cleverly hidden strap on her wrist and flicked it in the air.

Ivy watched it spin up and then return to earth.

Millie caught it easily by the hilt with a satisfying thwack.

Ivy held out her jewel-encrusted purse: a throwback from the height of her debutante days. ‘Yes. Right here.’

‘Don’t forget a hatpin is handy in a pinch.

Though I don’t suppose you are wearing a hat tonight.

’ Penny’s brows drew down in a frown. ‘Still, almost anything can be a weapon. Your wits being the most effective of them all.’ Her gaze lingered on Ivy.

While they were newly acquainted with each other, it didn’t stop the concern spilling out of Penny’s voice.

Once more, Ivy acknowledged her luck in finding such fierce female friends.

While none of them said it, they were all worried.

They knew Ivy was the most timid of them.

Scared, wounded, frightened, and more likely to run for the shadows than stand and fight.

She hated conflict. But for once, their collective concern grated on Ivy’s nerves, as did her own insecurities.

She wasn’t some weakling. She had been training with Philippa since Millie’s wedding.

Well over six months ago. When the intruder broke into poor Sarah’s room, Ivy stood against him, shot him in the shoulder, and not once did she shrink back from his fearsome presence no matter how terrified she might have been.

I can attend this stupid ball with Commissioner Worthington. I can find this blackguard and ensure he never threatens the children under my care. I can do for them what no one did for me.

A wave of nausea rolled through her belly.

Dear God. What am I doing?

A knock sounded. As Ivy was the only one standing, she tried to walk calmly through the front entrance. Her pale hand shook as she reached for the handle and opened the door.

Edward stood on the front step half in shadows, half illuminated by the flickering lamplight.

Gone were the clothes of a working man. Instead, he wore an expertly tailored black suit.

His white cravat was tied in a simple barrel knot, but it drew her eye to his throat.

He’d freshly shaven, and a gust of wind brought the scent of soap, Jamaican spice, and coffee.

Her fears dissipated in the heat of something else.

Attraction. I’m attracted to him.

Once more, Ivy found it difficult to breathe.

But I’m not capable of such feelings.

The warm rush of awareness washing over her skin and making her lips and fingertips tingle begged to differ.

Lamplight glinted in his eyes, and she caught a flash of something raw and needy before he blinked it away.

‘You look quite lovely.’

She hadn’t admitted until this very moment that she wanted him to like her in this dress. Which was stupid. Glancing down, she was horrified to see the splotchy crimson blush staining her exposed décolletage. She pressed a hand over her chest.

‘Don’t.’ Worthington stepped forward, the heat of him touching her like a caress. ‘You’ve nothing to hide, Lady Ivy. I did wonder if…’ As if realising he was about to expose a secret meant to stay hidden, he snapped his mouth shut.

‘Wondered what?’

He cleared his throat, his eyes straying up to her hairline instead of holding her gaze. ‘If Philippa would be able to find you a gown in the time allowed. She has outdone herself.’

Liar.

If only she could divine his thoughts. But perhaps it was better she didn’t know. Stepping back to allow him entrance and create much-needed space between them, she remembered her manners. ‘Thank you.’

Philippa, Hannah, Millie, and Penny emerged from the parlour.

‘Ah. I see you found several women willing to step in for you this evening. How lovely.’ Worthington raised his brows and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels.

Philippa narrowed her eyes and smacked her ever-present fan against her skirts of burgundy and midnight silk.

‘Ivy explained your plans. It’s clear you haven’t adequately prepared for her absence from the orphanage, so we have all agreed to share the responsibility.

While you two are hunting down the intruder, someone needs to be here protecting the children.

Who better than the Queen’s Deadly Damsels? ’

Edward’s well-shaped mouth curved in a smirk. ‘I’d hardly call you a damsel, Philippa.’

‘But I am most certainly deadly. Be careful, Edward. If anything happens to Ivy, you’ll be answering for it.’

An unspoken message passed between the duchess and commissioner.

Ivy glanced at Millie, Hannah, and then Penny.

Based on the similar expressions of curiosity each woman wore, it was clear none of them knew what secrets Philippa and Worthington shared.

Her interest in the commissioner deepened.

Perhaps she was not the only one with demons in her past.

Worthington gathered Ivy’s coat from where it hung near the door and helped her put it on. For a brief moment, she felt the heat of his breath on the back of her neck and shivered, but then he stepped away.

Oh my.

This was going to be a long night.

‘We shall be off. Are you all staying tonight?’ Edward looked at each of the women in turn.

‘No. I am.’ Millie’s flaming-red hair shone like a beacon even as she twitched a blade free and palmed the weapon. ‘Drake will be joining me later. We’ll be staying in your room, Commissioner. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Given the size of the cot in that room, I have my doubts either of you will find enough space to lay flat, let alone sleep.’

Millie’s wide smile lit up the entryway.

‘I had some of our men bring over a bed. We shall leave it for your use.’ She winked at him.

In any other woman, it might be flirting, but Millie was so obviously in love with her scarred major general husband, the gesture was a simple extension of friendship.

The commissioner responded with a grateful smile. Ivy belatedly wondered how he had fit himself on the cot she provided the night before. He hadn’t spoken a word of complaint, but based on his relieved expression, he must have been terribly uncomfortable.

‘Drat. I didn’t think of that,’ she muttered.

Worthington offered Ivy his arm, easily smoothing over the awkward moment.

‘I’ve slept in far less comfortable accommodations.

’ He spoke softly so only she heard, then to the group, ‘We shall wish you all goodnight. I will bring Ivy back when our investigation has concluded and return to my own house this evening confident in the knowledge you and your fine husband will be protecting the children tonight.’

Millie smiled her thanks, and the other women offered their wishes for a successful hunt, which felt very odd. Ivy had been on fox hunts before, but hunting a man was altogether different.

Before she could process her nerves about spending the evening with Worthington, they were snugly tucked into his sporty barouche and bumping their way toward Widow Lovemore’s grand mansion in Mayfair to attend the Widow’s Ball.