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To that end, she’d arranged to meet Olivia Jones at Gunter’s for ices and conversation.

She had come to trust Dickie Jones’s sister as the voice of blunt, honest, and forthright reason.

In many ways they were viewed the same by society, outcasts and a bit too bold for mere women.

Her uncle’s barouche rocked to a halt before Gunter’s.

She could have walked to the tea shop at the other end of Berkeley Square, but Uncle Percy had insisted she and Nell travel in the carriage.

“What flavor ice would you like, John?” she asked the coachman as she stepped down to the pavement.

A gust of wind scattered leaves at her feet.

She tugged her deep blue velvet pelisse more tightly around her.

The garment was new, exquisitely made in la style militaire , a gift from her Aunt Eleanor.

The air was surprisingly crisp and clean London at nearly midday.

“Oh, Lady Alice, you don’t have to worry about me.

I’ll pull the carriage beneath the trees and wait for you.

” The barouche was driven by one of the younger coachmen her uncle employed.

He was of a similar age to Nell, no more than twenty, and Alice had noticed her maid’s surreptitious glances his way.

“Nell prefers to have her ice outdoors. I will send the waiter out to you and you are to order whatever you please. I insist.” Alice waved at Nell who gave her a hard questioning look but remained seated in the carriage as the young coachman maneuvered it into a position beneath the trees across the street from Gunter’s.

She stepped into the luxurious confines of Gunter’s and paused to savor the tempting aromas of the various ices, cakes, and other delicacies on offer.

Every aspect of the venerated tea shop spoke to the wealth and class of the clientele Gunter’s served.

From the rich fabrics and mahogany of the furnishings to the crystal chandeliers and fine china, anyone who entered could be in no doubt as to the quality of the food on offer and of the company one might be in when consuming said food.

All of which made the task of seeking out Olivia very simple indeed.

She sat at one of the dainty tables for two in her simple day dress and plain, flat straw bonnet with the cheeky smile of someone who knew precisely what everyone seated around her thought of her presence.

Not that she gave a single damn. Alice rushed over to embrace her and kiss her cheek.

“Thank you so much for coming, Olivia. It is so good to see you.” Alice and her friend exchanged a look and tried not to laugh. A tall elegantly dressed waiter appeared at once.

“Good day, Lady Alice,” he said. “What can I fetch for you and your friend?”

“Good day, Wallace. I see you have already brought tea. Have you been taking care of Miss Jones?”

“He has. I didn’t want to order until you arrived.” Olivia smiled at the waiter, and he blushed. “Perhaps a cup for Lady Alice? I should like a lemon ice, please.”

“Yes, most definitely a cup for some tea and a neige de pistachio for me. And could you have two glace de épine-vinette sent out to my uncle’s carriage?”

“At once, Lady Alice.” He bowed to Alice and to Olivia as well and hurried away, his face still a bright red.

A burst of feminine laughter and the mention of her name drew Alice’s attention to a table across the tea room.

Millicent Rutherford, Ophelia Hart-Smythe, and Margaret Villiers were holding court, with several other young ladies Alice didn’t recognize and a few overdressed tulips of the ton she did, unfortunately.

Younger sons from so-called good families who made it a practice to stay in the sphere of heiresses like Millicent, Ophelia, and Margaret.

“Ignore them,” Olivia said as Wallace arrived with a fresh pot of tea and a delicate china cup and saucer for Alice. He poured their tea and presented their ices in fine crystal glasses along with a plate of lemon pastries.

“The pastries are the newest addition to our offerings,” Wallace explained. “Mister Gunter sent them over with his compliments.”

“They look delightful,” Alice said. “Do thank him for me.”

“I took the liberty of sending some out to your carriage as well.”

“You, Wallace, are a treasure. I hope Mister Gunter appreciates you.” Wallace bowed and made his way back behind one of the glass cases that displayed the various sweets the shop had on offer.

“There is something different about you,” Olivia mused, head cocked to one side as she tasted a spoonful of her ice. “You look…happy.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Alice leaned across the table. “Perhaps having taken revenge on those miscreants not once, but twice, accounts for my mood.” She ate a large spoonful of ice and waggled her eyebrows. Olivia laughed and snorted.

“Dickie told me what happened in great detail. How I wish I had been there to see it! Though the prints in Ackermann’s window do wonders for my imagination.” She bit into one of the pastries the waiter had brought and closed her eyes in reverent enjoyment.

“Aren’t the prints wonderful? Sinjin sent me the latest ones this morning.”

“He fancies you, you know.” Olivia eyed her speculatively

“He does not. Don’t be silly.” Alice set to finishing off her ice. “We have simply been friends for a very long time. I am certain he sees me as a sister.”

“I’ve never seen a brother look at a sister the way he looks at you,” Olivia observed. “And I don’t know many men like him who would come up with the tricks he came up with to put those three guttersnipes in their place.”

“Men like him?” Alice suddenly wondered how Sinjin might be seen by another woman. She’d never really thought of him as anything but her friend, a presence in her life for as long as she could remember. Were there any other men like Sinjin? Somehow, she didn’t think so.

“Quiet. Private. No need for the good opinion of others. But when they love a woman there isn’t anything they won’t do for her.

” Olivia waved her dainty silver spoon at Alice.

“He’s a deep one is your Sinjin. Men underestimate him at their peril, and ladies take him for granted at their loss.

Best catch that one up, Alice. He’s one of the good ones.

Not to mention all of that pent up passion will make him a right pleasure in the bedchamber. ”

“Olivia!” Alice clapped her hand over her mouth too late. They both laughed quietly at the hush that fell over the tea room. “Speaking of revenge,” she said when Gunter’s customers went back to their own business.

“Were we?”

Alice glanced about to make certain on one was listening. “Sinjin had three superior plans to punish those guttersnipes . He had me write out three formulas or experiments in his journal.”

“And?” Olivia stared at her for a moment. “You want to try the third one? Alice, that is quite the gamble. What does Sinjin say?”

“He wants to persuade me that enough is enough.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. They’ve gone to ground. I don’t think they’ve left London for the Season, but they haven’t been to any of the important events this week.”

“How do you know?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “How do you think?”

“My brother is a menace.”

“Only if you land on his bad side,” Alice said with a grin.

“If I can get Sinjin’s journal, will you look at his idea and see if it is something we can do?

” Even as she asked the question something in her screamed No!

and she knew she stood on a precipice that might land her in a terrible, awful, lonely place.

Olivia studied her face, and Alice forced herself not to look away.

Perhaps this was why she’d invited her to have tea with her today.

She wanted someone to talk her out of this mad plan.

She wanted someone to save her from the rage and hurt that yet simmered in her heart every time someone whispered or turned away from her.

“Lady Alice,” an all too familiar voice simpered. “Out and about without your hired escort?” Millicent Rutherford smiled as her two toadies in bonnets of the latest mode tittered behind her like the complete magpies they were.

“Hired escort, Millicent? My maid is in my carriage. Where is yours?” The hair on the back of Alice’s neck stood up. Olivia looked ready to draw someone’s cork though she stayed seated, her serviette in her lap.

“Not your maid, dear. Mister Perriton, the hermit of Perriton Grange. We all know he never ventures into company, so I assumed your uncle was paying him to squire you about Town.” Alice clenched her fist under the table. Her blood began to boil.

“An excellent choice for the task,” Margaret added. “Those strong, silent types are so biddable and do tend to keep the fortune hunters away.”

“Perhaps you should ask to borrow him, Margaret,” Ophelia suggested. “Your dowry is far more substantial than the rest of ours.”

“No, thank you.” Margaret turned up her nose.

“I value my reputation too highly to spend time in the company of an untitled hermit with no fortune, no prospects, and no conversation to speak of no matter how good his family.” She stepped closer to Alice.

“They say he is a bit of a dullard, you know, or perhaps a bit mad?”

“You disgusting cow,” Alice said in a low, cold tone she hardly recognized. She rose slowly, both hands clenched into tight fists.

“Alice, don’t.” Olivia warned.

“I suppose we should be glad you don’t have a pistol with you,” Millicent said, her lips creased into a sickening smile. She picked up Alice’s cup of tea. “Drink this, dear. It will calm your nerves. Oops!” She pretended to stumble and poured the tea down the front of Alice’s beautiful new pelisse.

“That’s done it,” Olivia muttered. She jumped up and grasped Millicent’s elbow.

“Miss Rutherford,” she said in a loud voice.

“I was able to remove the brown stains from the front of your pretty white gown, however the yellow stains at the back will take more time. Piss stains are dead difficult to remove.”

Millicent’s outraged scream echoed throughout the tea shop as the entire room had gone deadly silent.

Olivia rounded the table and looped her arm through Alice’s.

She led her to the door of the shop and out onto the pavement.

Wallace was just coming from fetching the tray and empty dishes from Uncle Percy’s barouche.

Alice fumbled in her reticule and drew out a guinea.

“This is for you W-wallace,” she said and drew in a steadying breath. “Will you put the rest on His Grace’s account?”

“Of course, Lady Alice. Are you well?”

“She’s fine, Wallace. Thank you.” Olivia practically dragged Alice to the carriage and climbed inside with her.

“What happened?” Nell gasped and searched her own large bag to draw out a handkerchief. She blotted at the stain that had soaked into Alice’s pelisse. “Home, John.” The coachman set the horses in motion at once.

Alice sat there, numb without a coherent thought in her head.

She’d gone after Stanton, Earden, and Weatherly and nothing had changed.

She was still the butt of jokes. She still allowed others to hurt her and bring her nearly to tears.

She thought of Sinjin and his quiet strength and ability not to give a fig what people thought of him.

“Get the journal,” Olivia said as she leaned across the carriage and grasped Alice’s hand. “I have an idea.”