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Olivia popped her spoon in her mouth before it could drip on her dress. Taking a moment to swallow her treat, she gave Ivy a conspiratorial wink. ‘A fundraising ball held by none other than the stuck-up, thinks-she’s-better-than-everyone-else Duchess of Dorsett.’

Ivy’s eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. ‘You can’t be serious.’ Leaning back in the wicker chair, Ivy shook her head. ‘She’ll never agree to host a ball for you.’

Olivia ate another spoonful of ice. She kept her eyes on the spoon as she placed it carefully next to the glass. ‘No. But she might if you asked.’

Bloody hell.

‘Olivia, I think you grossly overestimate my influence on Philippa.’ Ivy indulged in another spoonful.

‘We must try, Ivy. The orphanage is in desperate need of funds, and the Committee of Concerned Ladies for Community Betterment can only do so much with the limited pin money we are privy to. Not like a certain duchess who has a veritable fortune at her disposal.’

‘Not all titled members of the beau monde are flush with money.’

Olivia sent Ivy a dark look. ‘I’m aware. But the duchess is not one of the many titled poor. And more importantly, every lord and lady south of Scotland is tripping over themselves to win her favour. You are her friend. Surely she wouldn’t refuse your request to throw a charitable ball, would she?’

Ivy couldn’t imagine what Philippa’s reaction might be as she’d never dreamed of asking her for something so outlandish. But the orphanage did need money, and the beau monde would follow Philippa’s lead like lemmings.

‘Can you not ask your husband if he might be willing to host the ball? I’m sure I could get Philippa to attend.’

Olivia almost spit out her spoonful of cherry confection. ‘Percy? I dare not ask him for anything. Funding Hyacinth’s debut has put him in a foul mood, even though he brought me back from Europe especially to manage the task.’

Ivy had not asked Olivia about her relationship with her daughter. Rumours swirled that Lord Smithwick banished Olivia to Europe for ten years, keeping her separate from the girl. But she could hardly ignore the topic now Olivia mentioned it.

‘You must be so excited for her debut.’

Olivia’s green eyes misted, and her chin quivered.

She pushed away her nearly empty tasse á glace .

‘Much trust has been broken between us. I am working to regain her faith, but it has not been easy.’ For a horrifying moment, Ivy worried her friend might burst into tears in front of some of the beau monde’s most vicious gossips.

Throwing her head back, Ivy laughed so loud, she worried she might upend the unsteady café table.

Shocked from her tears, Olivia looked around the room, then back to Ivy. ‘What on earth are you?—’

‘Don’t let them see your pain,’ Ivy whispered before breaking into another peal of false cheer.

Olivia tried, at first softly and then with more gusto, garnering the attention of several young ladies licking ices and fluttering their fans.

The ladies leaned closer, so Ivy spoke loud enough for them to hear.

‘Can you even merit it? The poor viscount caught with his trousers around his knees in the middle of the park while his poor wife tried to shield him with her parasol. His tailor is sure to be looking for a new job before summer is over.’ Scooping the last spoonful of elderflower ice, she ate it triumphantly.

The young ladies to her left twittered and gasped as Olivia shook her head, her shoulders shaking. ‘An almost unbelievable tale.’ Leaning closer, she lowered her voice. ‘Thank you.’

Ivy was used to being the woman who received support from others. It felt good to be the one providing help to a friend. ‘You might want to wait on your thanks until after I’ve spoken with Philippa.’

‘I’m hoping we can arrange the ball by the end of the month. That gives us two weeks.’

Again, Ivy’s mouth dropped open. ‘That’s hardly any time at all.’

Olivia shrugged. ‘She has us to help.’

Ivy snorted. ‘Yes, I’m sure she’ll welcome your help with open arms. I don’t know why you two dislike one another, but it doesn’t bode well for a joint venture.’

‘It is not I who dislikes Lady Winterbourne. Indeed, I hardly know her. Yet, since I returned from Europe, she has snubbed me at every event we’ve attended. If you wish to understand the cause of our discord, you must direct your inquiries to the duchess, not me.’

Ivy stood, smoothing a hand over her skirts. ‘If we hope to gain her support for this ball, I don’t think discussing her feelings about you will help.’

Olivia raised an eyebrow in a look Ivy was tempted to tell her was very similar to her nemesis. ‘Fine by me. I don’t need to court her approval. I only hope she can put aside whatever petty issues she has to support the children.’

Ivy clutched her reticule tightly, taking comfort in the weight. ‘I think she will. I shall visit Philippa immediately. If we are to have this ball in a fortnight, there is much to do.’

Olivia rose, pulling Ivy into another hug. ‘Thank you, Ivy. You are a good friend. I don’t deserve such kindness.’

Ivy squeezed her shoulders. ‘We all deserve kindness, Olivia.’

Olivia released Ivy, painting a bright smile over her face like one might paint a porcelain plate. ‘I’m off to meet Hyacinth at the modiste’s. Wish me luck. She forbade me from joining her, but she needs to understand I respond to ultimatums about as well as she does.’

Ivy exhaled a long breath. ‘It seems we both have challenging conversations ahead. I shall wish you luck if you do the same for me.’

Olivia nodded. ‘Good luck, Ivy.’

‘Good luck, Olivia.’

Ivy smiled at her friend, then turned and started weaving back through the crowd.

She was jostled by a boisterous group of young men, nearly tripped over a little girl with a large red stain on her white cotton dress, and deftly sidestepped a lad as he ran full tilt through the store with a dripping glass of coffee ice.

When she emerged onto the street, she sighed with relief until she thought of the task ahead.

‘How the devil am I going to convince Philippa to host a charity ball… for Olivia?’

She got no answer from the bustling crowd as she hailed a hackney to take her the short drive to Grosvenor Square.

It wasn’t until she was sitting in another musty carriage, she felt the crinkle of something in her pocket.

Her fingers closed around parchment. As she withdrew the small, sealed note, the elderflower ice curdled in her belly.

Head of a crow. Body of a wolf. Tail of a snake.

The Devil’s Sons had sent Ivy a message.