Additionally, she wasn’t convinced she’d be in London until Season’s end. If Dash abandoned his pursuit of Mrs. Bloomington, if he insisted they all return to Dasborough Park?—
Who would keep watch then?
And when would she see Gideon again?
The last thought popped into her mind seemingly out of nowhere. Beatrice shook her head. That was of no consequence.
Lark had begun pacing again, her agitation poorly concealed.
“I was there, Bea,” she said. “There were too many people. Too many rooms. Not even you could have been everywhere at once.”
Beatrice watched her.
And then—quite suddenly—her thoughts shifted.
“What if,” she said slowly, “I could be?”
Beatrice leaned forward, the idea forming even as she spoke. “What if I wasn’t the only one?”
Lark winced. “Beatrice…”
“I know.” Beatrice softened at once. “You cannot do what I do. And I would never ask you to risk your position with Lady Barrington.”
Relief flickered across Lark’s face, followed quickly by guilt.
“But Lark, you do help—in an equally important way.” Beatrice leaned closer. “You know which families are attending which balls. You know which gentlemen the mamas refuse introductions to their daughters. You know which girls are too trusting, which companions are inattentive. You hear things, Lark. Things that I don’t.”
She had Lark’s full attention.
“All of that matters,” Beatrice said. “Perhaps as much as hiding behind the shrubs with my bodkin.”
At that, Lark almost smiled.
“What if there were more of us?” Beatrice asked. “Not all doing the same thing. Some watching. Some warning. Some passing along information. Some simply creating interruptions at precisely the right moment.”
“A watchful sort of sisterhood,” Lark said slowly.
“Yes.” Beatrice’s heart began to beat faster. “Patrolling Mayfair.”
Lark’s brows rose.
“A society,” Beatrice said.
“A society?”
“Yes. Quiet. Discreet. No officers. No minutes. Certainly no gentlemen.”
“Certainly not.”
“Just women who pay attention,” Beatrice said. “Who are dedicated to knowing when to interrupt. When to warn. When to send a footman. When to drop a fan or spill lemonade or suddenly require a friend’s assistance in the retiring room.”
Lark studied her for a long moment.
Then, softly, “The Vigilance Society.”
Beatrice blinked.
Then smiled.
