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“You know the family?” Mrs. Holloway asked her.
“I know of them,” Bobby said. “Both sons a bit of a loss, in my opinion. Even my insipid brother doesn’t like them. Any reason you’re keen to aid these rather wet Coulsons?”
“Is that any of our business, Bobby?” Judith asked quickly, probably afraid Mrs. H. would grow incensed at Bobby’s impertinence and depart.
Bobby shrugged. “Merely curious.”
“Lady Cynthia indicated to me that Mr. William has attended a few of Mr. Thanos’s lectures at the Polytechnic,” Mrs. Holloway explained in her patient way. “Mr. Thanos believes that Mr. William has great cleverness and much potential, but he is being dragged into the muck by his brother.”
“Ah,” Bobby said. She leaned back against the windowsill, ignoring the cold of the glass. “Thanos hopes you can save young William—and his brother in the process—in case William proves to be a scientific prodigy. Thanos is too good to his fellow men, if you ask me.”
Elgin Thanos, the man Cynthia was mad sweet on, though she’d never say so even if her toenails were pulled out, had an immensely clever brain. He was a bloody genius, able to carry long and complex mathematical equations in his head. He knew a damned sight more about everything than anyone Bobby had ever met. He was also a gentle soul and headlong in love with Cynthia—likewise, torture would never make him admit it.
“In other words, you’re not doing this so much for the lofty Lady Coulson, but as a favor for Cyn,” Bobby said. “And by extension, Mr. Thanos. Or the other way about.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Holloway said primly.
“I commend you,” Judith said. “But how can we help?”
Mrs. Holloway lost her assurance and looked embarrassed. “Well, it’s a bit of a cheek, actually. Daniel—Mr. McAdam—has gone to Ireland, so I cannot ask him.”
The blush when she slipped and called McAdam by his first name tickled Bobby. Mrs. Holloway was as gone on him as Cyn was on Thanos. So much romance in the air.
“Ask him what, Mrs. H.?” Bobby prompted when Mrs. Holloway seemed reluctant to continue.
“Mr. Terrance has been taking Mr. William to a gambling club,” Mrs. Holloway said. “A rather rough one, on the Strand. Called the Adam since it’s near a street by that name. Gentlemen only, of course.” Mrs. Holloway’s mouth tightened, she clearly having second thoughts about her errand.
Bobby saw Judith realize Mrs. Holloway’s intent at the same time she did.
“The penny drops,” Bobby declared, her anticipation heightening. “You want me to infiltrate said gentleman’s club and see what Terrance and William get up to. And then what? Simply report? Or drag them out by their heels?”
Judith’s lovely eyes filled with alarm as she pictured Bobby doing the latter. “Mrs. Holloway, I am not certain that we are the best to ask—” she began.
Bobby cut her off. “Nonsense. Of course, I’ll do it. Happy to. Only one thing to ask in return, Mrs. H. If I carry out this mission, will you bring us one of your stupendous lemon cakes?”
Chapter Two
Bobby guessed there’d be a row as soon as Mrs. Holloway thanked them and departed, and she wasn’t wrong. When Judith returned to the studio from seeing Mrs. Holloway downstairs, her face held a dark scowl.
“Mrs. Holloway is already remorseful about coming here,” Judith began before Bobby could say a word. “She asked me to tell you never mind. She will wait for Mr. McAdam to return and have him assist her.”
“Rot that.” Bobby flung herself once more onto her favorite chair, a wooden structure with soft cushions designed by William Morris. She retrieved a cheroot from the depths of her pocket, remembered she shouldn’t light up, and stuffed it back inside. “Mrs. H. needs a spy, and I’m happy to be one. She did agree to the lemon cake.” Bobby rubbed her hands. “I can taste it now.”
“Bobby.”
Judith’s admonishing tone made Bobby’s ire rise. “Lord, Judes, you sound like my mother. Only you have to say Roberta, with your nose turned up so high it’s a wonder you can breathe.”
“Please be serious.” Judith sank to her stool but kept her steady gaze on Bobby. “This idea is highly risky. What if you’re caught and arrested? Even if your father could get you off any charge, you’d be humiliated in every newspaper in Britain and beyond. Your father might lock you in his cellar for embarrassing him.”
“What should I do instead?” Bobby clenched her tailored cashmere lapels with stiff fingers. “Stuff myself into corset and frock and behave like the insipid society daughter I’m supposed to be? Or wear drab gowns and throw myself into charity work, like the spinster rather long in the tooth that I am? I’m thirty and unmarried—I might as well be dead.”
“Do not twist my words, please.” Judith folded her arms over her curved waist, her sign that she was uneasy. “I am worried about you. I know you easily blend in with gentlemen in their gaming houses all the time, but this family knows you. Won’t Terrance and William be surprised to find Lady Roberta in their midst in a gentleman’s suit?”
“Not at all. Their mother and mine made their society debut in the same year. That is the extent of the acquaintance, in the same manner as all titled idiots who went to the same schools know each other. I barely saw Terrance and William growing up, but I heard all about them, mostly from my spiteful mother. They’ll have no idea who I am, no fear.” And a taste of adventure wouldn’t go amiss, Bobby thought, but did not say. Why should Judith have had all the fun?
“But this is a club you’ve never gone to.” Judith rocked a little on her stool, her anger softening to pure anxiousness. “If all titled idiots know each other, as you put it, couldn’t someone else recognize you? Friends of your brother’s, perhaps? Or one of your childhood acquaintances?”
“My childhood friends either know all about me and wouldn’t betray me, or they wouldn’t recognize me if I danced naked in front of them,” Bobby said with assurance. “You’d be astounded how much people see only what they wish to see. And anyway, I look so much like a bloke, no one has ever tumbled to me no matter where I go. That is why Mrs. Holloway didn’t ask Cynthia to run this errand. Cyn can dress in a man’s clothes all she likes, but she’s very obviously a woman. If she’d cut off her hair, she might fare better, but she refuses.”
