The Fashionable Spy by Emily Hendrickson Page A

about a foot away, raising expressive brows. “My, this could prove to be very intriguing.”
    Further speculation was cut off when the door to their box opened, admitting none other than Lord Leighton.
    Elizabeth had tilted her pretty nose in the air when the door opened again. Sir Edward appeared, followed by Mr. Padbury. He was a plump man past his prime, but still most agreeable company.
    Julia rose to greet the men, her knowledge of the ton coming to her aid. “Lord Leighton, how nice to see you. And you, Sir Edward. And here is our good friend Mr. Padbury. Won’t you join us?” Since all three gentlemen were ones who got about Town, there was scarcely any need to make introductions.
    Elizabeth glared at her sister, then edged away from them all, a polite smile freezing on her face. She knew better than to turn her back on their callers.
    “How pleasant to see you ladies enjoying the pleasures of Town rather than being hard at your creating,” Mr. Padbury exclaimed as he bowed—mostly to Julia.
    “Does Miss Elizabeth create as well?” a languid Lord Leighton inquired. His gaze roamed over Elizabeth, making it evident she was the person of interest for him. It was also obvious he was most curious about precisely what the gorgeous Elizabeth spent her time crafting.
    Victoria had been studying her younger sister and the man who hovered close to her, a gentleman she knew little about. The looks between those two were far too conscious. “Elizabeth is quite skilled in engraving, sir. You must see her work sometime.” The glare from Elizabeth revealed little other than annoyance. Victoria politely turned to nod at Sir Edward. “Good evening.”
    “Little did I suspect we would meet again so soon.” He chatted on about nothing in particular, giving Victoria the sense she was secure from any speculation by others. A man so polite could hardly provide fodder for gossips. And with the other two men in the box, it diluted his impact considerably. The episode of the knife-throwing and the sequestered interlude in the windmill began to fade into obscurity. At least she told herself that was the case.
    When the interval ended, the men left. Elizabeth let out an explosive sigh. “I vow I was never so tempted to be rude to another in all my life. Victoria, if you love me, please say I need not see that man again.”
    “You need not see that man again,” her sister obediently repeated with a gleam in her eyes. “Although why you should cold-shoulder a perfectly good viscount is more than I can see. He is a highly eligible catch.”
    “That is what you think,” Elizabeth declared, but was barred further discussion when the curtains parted and the drama raged on through to its final act.
    Following the conclusion, and before the farce—a silly production called Raising the Wind, one of James Kenny’s offerings—Elizabeth had a chance to explain what had occurred to anger her.
    “I believe I ought to explain my remarks,” she began. When she finished, she darted glances from one sister to the other, waiting for their reactions.
    “Ghastly,” Julia declared with firm control of her facial muscles. “To insist you drive out with him.”
    “I had thought better of Lord Leighton,” Victoria admitted. “If he truly bothers you, my love, you have my permission to royally snub the man next time you see him.”
    Elizabeth relaxed to enjoy the farce, declaring afterward, “I do so like it when the hero bests his rival and the heroine’s father. How lovely it would be to have someone so utterly devoted.”
    “You did take note that this is a farce,” Victoria reminded. “I doubt if you see such devotion in real life.”
    On this note of skepticism the young women quickly rose and slipped away before any of the gentlemen who had called earlier could realize they had disappeared.
    * * * *
    The next morning saw Victoria driving in an unsavory part of London that the members of the ton rarely, if ever, saw. She did not