To Distraction (Bastion Club 5)
He inclined his head; he drew her closer as again they whirled through the tight turn at the end of the room, but this time he didn’t ease his hold. This time he kept her close; she wasn’t even sure he was conscious of it. That it wasn’t an instinctive part of his reaction to a subject she increasingly realized he found disturbing.
In the sense that he felt he should do more.
“You know,” she said, acting on a whim, her voice low, just for him, “I realized some time ago that we couldn’t save every girl, every woman. That it’s simply not possible, that not being able to help some is a fact of life, one we have to accept.”
His eyes had fixed on hers; holding his gaze, she continued, “Edith calls my hobby a ‘little crusade’—as usual she sees to the heart of things. But I’ve accepted, as we all must, that we can’t change our world—that we can’t eradicate this particular evil. That we can only do what we do, but what we mustn’t do is imagine that because we can’t fix the whole problem, that what we do accomplish isn’t worthwhile.”
A long moment passed; the waltz was ending when he replied, “Edith’s indeed very wise—it seems you’ve inherited the trait.” He whirled her to a halt, then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed. Met her eyes and smiled. “Successfully helping the girls and women we do is, indeed, sufficient justification.”
She returned his smile, let him set her hand
on his sleeve, then together they moved into the crowd, stopping to chat here, to exchange greetings and news there, to learn what was happening in the wider ton.
As they left Lady Fergurson and moved on, Phoebe smiled to herself; he’d grown almost as glib as she in eliciting useful information from ladies young and old. “Don’t forget to tell Emmeline about Mrs. Caldecott looking for a new companion.”
His lips curved but he made no reply, simply steered her to the next likely source.
When he’d first made it clear he wasn’t going to stand stoically by and simply watch what she did, she’d had serious reservations over how “helpful” he would be. Instead, quite aside from his glib tongue and charming smile—potent weapons within the ton—and his unusual background both as a military spy and also in business, which was proving so useful in other areas, there was the surprising yet undeniable fact that his simple presence at the agency had had an unexpected but powerfully positive consequence.
Emmeline’s rapid acceptance of him she’d put down to his charm and his undoubted ability to soothe women’s fears.
What she hadn’t immediately realized was that while every “special client” reacted at first sight of him with instinctive suspicion if not outright fear, just by being himself he allayed those fears and transformed even the most hardened suspicion to something close to fascination.
Not with him personally, but with what he represented.
It had taken her a little while to realize what a potent message his being at the agency, assisting as he was, was sending to their most vulnerable clients.
They’d seen the dark side of powerful gentlemen; he was the light to that dark, the living proof, one they could see with their own eyes, weigh with their own wits, and so realize that not all men like him were evil. That while some men outwardly like him were dastardly predators, others were protectors and defenders.
As all their “special clients” needed to work for their living and could not therefore avoid gentlemen like him, it was vital that they realize not all such men were dangerous. More, it was something they needed to learn and accept before they could with confidence go back into the arena in which they had to work.
A subtle but powerful boon. No woman who had ever been a victim would forget the look of a true predator, but they did need to learn to look first, before they ran screaming into the night.
She glanced at him, tall, large, and subtly protective by her side, and let her lips curve. Looking ahead, she had to admit he’d surprised her; indeed, he’d trumped her expectations on virtually every count.
It was the Misses Berry who first set her inner alarm bells ringing. Rated among the biggest gossips in the ton, they were unsurprisingly interested in Deverell’s presence by her side.
Too interested.
Phoebe had known the sisters for years, but she’d never seen Mary quite so fixed on interrogating a gentleman of Deverell’s ilk. As for Agnes, she quite openly believed…that there was something rather more than a liaison in the wind.
Inwardly blinking, Phoebe took a mental step back. As if from a distance, she heard Deverell, unperturbed by the old ladies’ interest, deal with their arch queries without revealing anything at all. Unfailingly charming, he made their excuses; she bobbed a curtsy and let him lead her away.
She refocused and suppressed a violent urge to look around. To search other faces, to see what others thought. Were thinking, imagining.
The Misses Berry were intelligent, as astute as they could hold together. If they thought…then presumably they were receiving the wrong message.
One quick glance at Deverell’s face confirmed he was truly unperturbed, that the old ladies’ suppositions hadn’t bothered him in the least. She couldn’t believe that he, of all men, hadn’t read their comments as she had.
Which meant…
Eyes fixed forward, Phoebe drew in a deep breath.
It was clearly time to set certain matters straight.
Chapter 16
Their relationship was a liaison, nothing more.