Both sisters set their backs against the headboard and put their heads together, pouring over the note in unison.
Dear Miss Wainwright,
I trust this missive finds you well.
My understanding is that you and your sisters will be attending dancing lessons at D’Acre House tomorrow. Mr. Vane will, at the appointed time, also be in attendance. Lady Redver has agreed to perform the introduction.
Mr. Vane knows of your position and has assured me he is interested in making an alliance, provided the two of you suit.
I will leave further negotiations in your hands.
Sincerely, EDL
Eliza frowned down at the note. Mrs. Dove-Lyon knew she’d met with Lord Redver at the Lyon’s Den. Why, then, would she choose Lady Redver to make the introduction to Mr. Vane?
Didn’t the Black Widow realize she was inviting trouble?
Cassie nudged Eliza’s shoulder. “How did this woman know about the dancing lessons? She wasn’t there this afternoon when we made the arrangements.”
“I don’t know.” Eliza continued to scowl. “But she knew exactly what happened to us at Almack’s, and she hadn’t been there either.”
“I don’t trust her.”
Eliza chewed on her lip. “I’m not sure I do, either.”
And yet, she’d felt no ill will in the widow. Did an uncanny prescience mean she could not be trusted? She had helped their mother’s friend, whomever that friend had been.
“What are you going to do?” Cassie asked.
Eliza slipped out of bed, took the letter to the fireplace, and tossed it into the flame. Then, she plucked the hairbrush from their shared dressing table.
“I’m going to brush your hair.”
“Do be serious.” Cassie moved to the edge of the bed and drew her hair back over her shoulder. “I meant what are you going to do about Mr. Vane?”
“Meet him, of course.” She eased the brush’s soft bristles down her sister’s locks. “I cannot evaluate him as a potential husband otherwise.”
“I have a bad feeling…”
“You always have a bad feeling.”
“Notalways. Just often. And I’m usually right.”
Eliza ignored her sister and, instead, applied herself to her task, letting her mind wander as Cassie counted each stroke.
If she were honest with herself, she must acknowledge the nervous, visceral excitement she experienced whenever Redver was present.
The sensation was not altogether unpleasant.
In fact, if she was certain he would never make the connection between herself and the Blackbird, she might not mind spending time with him.
A very big if.
Which of her assumptions about him had been true? Which had she mistaken?
Did it matter? She would meet Mr. Vane, be honest with him about her needs and requirements, and hope the gentlemanwould prove a good fit. If so, she vowed to put Redver out of her mind once and for all, no matter how strongly she was drawn to him.
No other course of action made any sense.
