Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Miss Fletcher was not Mason's usual choice of company. She was known to be a difficult woman to please, a troublemaker, and a woman who had a hard time keeping a secret. That was why he had picked her out from the crowd.

Her father had ties to the duke, and Mason just hoped to pry some information out of her. He intended to charm her into saying something that could help him.

First, though, he needed to make sure that she found him trustworthy. The best way to do that, he knew, was to ask her to dance. It was an offer that Miss Fletcher gladly accepted.

She smiled broadly at him as they took to the dance floor. Mason took a moment to hold his breath. Her perfume was overwhelming and it ran the risk of making him nauseous.

"My night is certainly turning around," Miss Fletcher said. "I thought it might be boring to the end, but here you are."

"You flatter me."

"Mr. Talbot has been keeping a close eye on me all night, but his sister recently involved herself in quite the scandal. I do not want to be seen with a man like him," she continued.

They had been in each other's company for mere seconds, and she was already gossiping. That was Mason's least favorite way to pass the time.

He knew that she wanted him to ask about the scandal, but he was there for another reason. He was interested in the deeper gossip that Miss Fletcher had to offer.

"You know, I haven't seen your father in a long time," Mason said. "I should catch up with him. How has he been lately?"

He felt the muscles in her back tense. The tender smile dropped from her face and was replaced with a strained one.

"He's just…you know. He's doing what he always does," she said vaguely.

Mason didn't like that answer. He felt that she had something to hide. Otherwise, she might have given a clearer answer. She would have told him that her father still played bowls every Wednesday. Or that he still went to the same gentleman's meeting each month.

Rather, she answered as vaguely as she could. For a woman who liked to talk about others, that was a warning for Mason.

He didn't get much from her for the duration of their conversation. It was a pitfall that Mason had not anticipated.

There was one benefit to his dance with Miss Fletcher, though. Every time he looked up from her, he was met with the steeled gaze of Miss Owen. She looked furious, and he couldn't blame her for it.

He had pushed her away without explanation.

Still, he liked the way that anger looked on her. That was how he felt, knowing that she would be promised to the duke. He didn't want to admit it out loud but he was jealous.

It did nothing to make him feel better about what he'd done, though. He could have pushed her away in a better manner. His feelings confused him, though, and as a result, he was behaving emotionally. That wasn't always the best choice.

After a short few minutes, Miss Owen disappeared from his view. He had hoped that would be a relief but it only made him feel worse.

"You wouldn't know it, but Mrs. Grant is wearing a wig," Miss Fletcher said, regaining Mason's attention. "It's well done, but in truth, she has hardly any hair left on her head."

He was grateful when the song ended and he could take his leave from her. She looked at him expectantly and he knew she hoped he would spend some more time with her.

"Thank you for the dance," he said.

Mason offered her a smile and a nod and headed in the opposite direction. The evening was hardly as enjoyable as he'd hoped it would be. Mason had at least hoped to get some valuable information from Miss Fletcher.

The room around him seemed loud and crowded as he headed for the balcony door. There was a cigar in his pocket that called to him, and he was eager for the fresh air.

The cool air refreshed him as he stepped outside. It was a bright night as the moon hung heavy above him. The night sky was decorated with stars. There was a familiar sensation in the air.

Mason recognized the way he felt then. He wanted more. It was an itch for adventure that was difficult to scratch. He'd thought he was rid of it just days before. Something about removing the excitement of Miss Owen from his life changed that.

She had been his new adventure, and now he needed to find a new one. The investigation should have been enough, but without her participation, it felt merely like a job. He'd pushed her aside for his own protection, and now there was little left for him in London.

He lit the end of his cigar glowed red; he took large puffs and allowed the aroma of the cloud to comfort him. He needed to leave the party. Otherwise, he risked going back on his decision to cut Miss Owen out of the investigation.

Mason would finish his cigar and come up with a reason to head home. Ethan seemed happy enough in his conversation with Miss Harper. Mason was no longer needed there. Perhaps there was somewhere else he could enjoy his night and distract himself from the thought of Miss Owen.

He leaned against the railing of the balcony and closed his eyes. Mason took a moment to still his mind and enjoy the flavor of his cigar. He had hoped it would bring him out of his own mind and into the present moment.

***

Isabella was having a tough time enjoying herself. There was no reason for her to be there. Not in her mind, anyway. Of course, her parents hoped that she would make a good show of herself in front of the duke. That she might consider taking him up on his offer of courtship.

All Isabella could concentrate on was the fact that she had become invisible to Mr. Alton. It was the worst feeling she'd ever had. He had cut her off without an explanation. That had completely killed her appetite for socializing.

As she watched him dance with Miss Fletcher, a woman so different from her, she wondered if she'd been wrong about him the entire time. She had caught his eye more than once, and each time, it had made her stomach turn until she couldn't take it anymore.

Isabella needed to walk away if she had any chance of enjoying her evening. She went in search of a drink instead. There was some space at the refreshments table while most others were sharing a dance.

She poured herself a glass of punch and took a deep breath. Near to her, Lord Mortimer stood unusually close to Lady Arabella. It was enough to make Isabella curious. She glanced up to understand what they were doing. They were talking in hushed tones, and Lord Mortimer kept glancing around at the room as they conversed.

There was something wrong about it. The two of them seemed to behave in an antisocial manner despite the event that was happening around them. It had the essence of a business meeting more than a friendly conversation.

The words were leaving their mouths rapidly. As if they were in a hurry to discuss their topic. Isabella moved closer to them as she helped herself to something to snack on. She needed to know what they were talking about. It was the perfect distraction from the way Mr. Alton had angered her.

"You worry too much," Lady Arabella said quietly.

Lord Mortimer sighed. "This isn't a joke. This is serious. I worry the right amount."

Isabella slowed her breathing. Suddenly, it seemed too loud when she already needed to strain her hearing over the music. What could possibly be so important that they had to discuss it at that moment?

"Every minute we waste takes us closer to being caught," Lord Mortimer continued.

"The phoenix will rise." Lady Arabella smirked then. "We're not a group that fails."

Isabella felt as if her blood had turned cold. She hoped that she'd merely heard them wrong, or it was a coincidence. Isabella knew better than that, though.

Lord Mortimer took a large sip of his drink. "I'm growing impatient. This plan isn't working. I'm preparing for us to lose here, and I think you should, too."

Isabella didn't want to look directly at them too much, but she caught a glimpse of Lady Arabella rolling her eyes. She wished Mr. Alton was there to hear their conversation. Getting a drink had led her to something potentially groundbreaking.

"Patience will be your saving grace now," Lady Arabella responded. "Some things take more time than others. This is sensitive work. You know that."

"It is sensitive," he said. "Especially now that there are rumors of someone snooping around in our business. A man has been spotted asking about our gatherings all around London. Things are getting dangerous now."

Lady Arabella pursed her lips. "Things got dangerous the moment we decided to go ahead with it all. We just need to be a little more careful going forward."

"You and I are safe, of course," Lord Mortimer said. "Nobody would suspect the two of us of being a part of it all."

Isabella sipped her drink to still her nerves. She felt the tremble in her hands and held her breath in an attempt to settle her pounding heart.

"We have a plan in place for this," Lady Arabella reminded him. "A decoy gathering that will be less careful. It will throw the scent off the rest of us. Anybody looking into it will be led in the wrong direction."

Isabella became too engrossed in it all then. The information that she was getting from them was important. She struggled to figure out what she needed to do next. What she was certain of was that she needed as much information as possible.

Isabella considered everything they already knew about the Society, which wasn't much. Now, she knew that they needed to look at those closer to them, too. They had to cast suspicion on their neighbors and important political figures.

It wasn't only criminals and those involved in dangerous society that they needed to look at. There were members scattered all over. More than that, there was a plan to throw Mr. Alton off his path.

She wondered if it was worth trying to warn him about it. He had kicked her off their team, so did she owe him the information she had gathered?

"What if we fail?" Lord Mortimer asked.

"We won't," Lady Arabella assured him. "We're better than that. I assure you. The duke will be taken care of."

"He better be. Or we all stand to lose."

Isabella's hands were clammy from the adrenaline. She hadn't moved in a few seconds, and when she did, she dropped her glass. It landed on the refreshments table and crashed into a bunch of plates and glasses.

Both Lady Arabella and Lord Mortimer shot their eyes up at her. Isabella was already looking at them, and she was certain the guilt showed on her face. They stared at her.

Isabella tried to smile but couldn't. Rather, she simply walked away from them. There was no doubt in her mind then that she needed to speak to Mr. Alton about it. Despite what he had done to her, he needed to know. So, she went in search of him.