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“Wark here’s secured all of us invitations to the ball in honor of the Prince of Wales’s visit,” said Rothesman.

“One of the benefits of his committee work,” said Harrison with a laugh.

Parris threw the man a hard glare. “It’s certainly an honor.”

Every nerve in her body tingled. The prince’s ball. If all these men were Wark’s closest associates and they were all attending the ball, certainly that would be the best plan for them to unfold their plot—whatever it was.

She swallowed and fought to keep her chin up. “What a happy coincidence. Mr. Wark informed me just last week that he had been selected for the committee after another man was unable to fulfill his duties.”

Rothesman and Harrison exchanged glances.

“Yes, it was unfortunate the man fell ill so suddenly,” said McDonough shortly.

She was certain now that the former committee member had been removed by Wark and his associates. The only problem was that she didn’t know how to get at any more information without out and out asking, and she could imagine how that conversation would go.

“Mr. Harrison, are you planning to do something rather destructive and altogether illegal around the time that the Prince of Wales will grace the city with his presence?”

“Why yes, Mrs. Parkem. However did you know?”

“Just womanly instinct. If you could please detail what dastardly deeds you plan to do and how, that would be a great help.”

She wished Andrew were here. It was impossible, but it would’ve been a great comfort to be accompanied by someone who’d done this sort of spy work before.

He and Gillie had prepared her, coming to her workshop, sorting buttons, cutting lengths of trimming, and winding bobbins while quizzing her on Wark’s associates. Yesterday night, when he was leaving, she’d thought Andrew might try to kiss her once again. When he hadn’t, the tension holding her shoulders taut had released. She’d told herself it was a relief when instead he’d simply paused at the bottom of the stairs to bid her be careful at the dinner. He’d reminded her that her role was just to find out who it was that Wark associated with, but in this house, surrounded by these men, she felt certain she could do more.

She wanted to get into Wark’s personal papers. A man like him would have a study, probably some grand, leather-filled affair from which he ran his empire of woolen mills and rental properties. She suspected he’d have a safe but that he’d also have a desk where he locked away all of his most important things, because a man of his arrogance would never believe a business rival would ever be able to storm the innermost sanctuary of his kingdom. But he wasn’t expecting a woman like her.

If she could just find a few minutes alone, she could do a great deal more damage than by just watching and listening. Of course, finding a way to steal away in the middle of a dinner would be nearly impossible, but nothing worth doing was ever truly easy.

“I would love to hear more about this committee,” she said, catching Wark’s gaze. “I know a schedule has been published in the newspapers, but it must be exciting to know before anyone else does what exactly the celebrations will entail.”

“I’ll be happy to tell you, Mrs. Parkem,” Douglas jumped in.

“Are you also on the committee?” she asked.

“Mr. Douglas is an acquaintance of the Duke of Livingston, one of the prince’s personal friends,” said Mrs. Wark, as her son pouted at being upstaged.

“His grace insisted that it was my metal that be used for the hull of his new steamer yacht, and we discovered a mutual admiration of hunting and arms,” said Douglas.

The butler reappeared to announce that dinner was ready to be served. The men looked to their hostess for guidance.

“Gentlemen, we rarely stand on ceremony in this household, so I hope you won’t mind if my son shows you in to dinner. I’d just like to have a little word with Mrs. Parkem,” said Mrs. Wark.

“Is anything the matter, Mother?” asked Wark rather sharply.

The older woman waved her hand before her. “It’s nothing more than a question about my dress for the prince’s ball. Mrs. Parkem is making it, you know.”

Harrison glanced at her again with new questions in his eyes. Lavinia knew that Mrs. Wark had made mention of her profession to try to embarrass her, but she refused to be cowed. She was a dressmaker. There was no embarrassment in that.

“Of course,” said Wark, before nodding toward the door. “You all remember the way.”

The men shuffled out, leaving Lavinia alone with her client and now hostess.

When the door was shut, Mrs. Wark arched a brow and addressed her. “What are you about, Mrs. Parkem?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“Why are you here tonight?”