Page 52 of The Siren of Sussex

“Saffron.” Lady Anne leaned forward to scratch his shoulder. “He’s nearly seventeen, and would rather sleep than put up with all of this nonsense.” She gave Hephaestus an appreciative look. “Yours has a bit more fire. How old is he?”

“Six. Still quite young.”

“He’s turning a great many heads.” Her gaze flicked to Evelyn. “Or perhaps it’s you who’s turning them. Is that a new habit?”

“It is. The habit-maker’s boy delivered it only this morning.”

“Which habit-maker? It can’t be my man in Oxford Street. He’d never turn his hand to something so daring.”

Evelyn hesitated. A part of her was reluctant to share Mr. Malik. Which was stupid, really. No doubt he’d appreciate the business. “His name is Mr. Malik. He’s located in Conduit Street, at Doyle and Heppenstall’s.”

“The foreman?”

“I’m not entirely sure of his position,” Evelyn admitted. “But this is his design.”

“I shall make a note of it. Not that Mama would ever approve. She’s quite set on my using Mr. Inglethorpe. He once made a skirt that broke away when she was thrown. She claims she’d have been dragged to death otherwise. In truth, it was just shoddy craftsmanship. But Mama believes what she wishes.”

“I’ve not seen your mother since last she called.”

“Haven’t you? I know she’s been back to Russell Square to see your uncle. The two of them are as thick as thieves planning the ball.”

Evelyn gave Lady Anne a startled look. “What has my uncle to do with it?”

“Mama often solicits his input in the final weeks. There’s no one she trusts more with occult matters. Excepting Dmitri, of course. He always takes a hand in planning Mama’s entertainments.” Lady Anne smiled, adding, “A noncorporeal hand.”

Evelyn found nothing humorous about the situation “But the ball isn’t anything of that nature, surely? I was under the impression it was a normal affair. A grand affair. One where a lady might meet suitable gentlemen during the season.”

“Yes, quite. That reminds me,” Lady Anne said suddenly, “have you ordered a gown yet?”

“Not yet. But if the—”

“Mama says I’m to accompany you to Madame Elise’s salon tomorrow. She can run up something within a week if she’s paid well enough, and you couldn’t ask for anything better outside of Paris.”

Evelyn exhaled. “That’s all very well, but I hadn’t reckoned this was going to be an occult ball. If the only men in attendance are spiritualists—”

“You needn’t worry on that score,” Lady Anne said. “There will be society gentlemen aplenty. It’s a great whizz for some of them. And more are sure to attend now they’ve spied you. Only look at how Mr. Fillgrave is eyeing you. Or is it your stallion he’s admiring? Take care he doesn’t steal him out from under you. He has two Spanish mares he’s looking to breed.”

Evelyn turned her head sharply. “Which one is Mr. Fillgrave?”

“For pity’s sake, don’t be obvious. One mustn’t be seen to show any interest in their impertinence.” Lady Anne slowed Saffron. “He’s there by the lamppost. The po-faced gentleman with the brown muttonchop side-whiskers.”

Evelyn brought Hephaestus down to a walk, matching Saffron’s long stride. She chanced a sidelong glance at Mr. Fillgrave’s face as they passed him. His countenance wasn’t very inspiring. “Is he considered a great catch?”

“Some might say so. Though not as great as Lord Milburn.”

“Who—”

“The thin fellow on the rangy gray gelding. He’s staring at you quite blatantly.”

Evelyn pretended not to notice as she and Lady Anne rode by.

“He’s another you should beware of,” Lady Anne said. “He treats his horses abominably.”

Evelyn was beginning to suspect that Lady Anne’s knowledge of gentlemen tended more toward their stables than their suitability as husbands. “One wonders how he treats young ladies.”

“Equally abominably. He’s of that school of gentlemen who believe a teasing remark more effective than a compliment.”

“There’s a whole school of them?”