Page 81 of The Ruling Class

The next day was Saturday. I was still grounded—school projectsaside—which apparently, in Ivy’s book, meant that my job was sitting around the house doing nothing while she was out doing who knows what. I had the vague sense that the case had taken a turn, but what that turn was, what she knew, what she washiding—I had no idea.

I’d caught Vivvie up on what I knew. She’d caught me up on the fact that her aunt had recognized Henry but not me. Apparently, the woman had assumed that I was Henry’s girlfriend.Because that’s not disturbing.

My cell phone rang at half past three. I answered it, glad for the distraction.

“It’s your favorite person,” Asher informed me.

“No,” I said, leaning back against my headboard. “You’re not.”

“I won’t embarrass you by proving I am,” Asher replied, unfazed. “We have bigger problems.”

“Problems?” By Asher’s definition, that could mean any number of things.

“More like problem, singular,” Asher amended. “I just talked to Henry. He’s planning to go with his mother to a state dinner tonight.”

That seemed like something Henry would do. “And?”

“And,” Asher said emphatically, “Henry is planning to go with his mother to a state dinner tonight.” He paused, presumably for an audible reaction on my part.

He got none.

“Henry avoids white-tie events like the plague,” Asher elaborated. “His mom gets invited to these things all the time—her family is, shall we say,well off, with a lot of international holdings. But no one would expect her to put in an appearance this soon after Theo’s death.” Asher finally paused for a breath. “My spidey senses tell me that Henry’s mom was not overcome by a sudden desire to honor the queen of Denmark.”

“You don’t have spidey senses,” I told Asher automatically.

“Idohave a Henry sense,” Asher said firmly. “And I’m telling you, he was acting super shady when I talked to him. I think he actually convinced his mother to go tonight. That means he’s willingly donning a tailcoat and bow tie and venturing into a bedazzled crowd of people, all of whom will tell him how sorry they are for his loss.”

I thoughtbedazzledwas probably overstating things a bit, but focused on the rest of what Asher was saying. “You really think going to this thing with his mom was Henry’s idea?”

“I do,” Asher pronounced. “I just can’t figure out why.”

Unfortunately, Icould. “Who attends state dinners?” I asked with a sinking feeling.

“Three hundred of the president’s closest colleagues and friends.” Asher paused, thinking. “Members of the cabinet and staff, the vice president and his family, assorted governors, donors, lobby firm executives, Hollywood celebrities, professional athletes, philanthropists, congressmen, and a half-dozen partridges in a governmental pear tree.”

I paused for a second. “What’s Henry’s phone number?”

After he gave it to me, I hung up, glared at my phone, then made the call.

“Hello.” Henry answered the phone with trademark calm.

“Whatexactlydo you think you’re doing?” I asked him, without bothering to identify myself. He must have recognized my voice, because he didn’t ask who it was.

“Currently, I’m readingThe Economist.”

“You’re going to a state dinner?” I gritted out.

“I take it Asher called you?”

“What’s your endgame here, Henry? Why are you going?”

“My mother needed an escort.” Henry was a good liar. But not good enough.

You aren’t the enemy. That doesn’t mean our goals are aligned.Henry had a goal. He had an agenda. He had a reason for going tonight that had nothing to do with his mother.

“You have a plan,” I said. “And given that it’s a plan that involves rubbing elbows with several hundred of the city’s most politically powerful people, I’m not feeling very comforted at the moment.”

“Rest assured, Tess. I can take care of myself.”