Free Revealed by Kate Noble Page B

musicians as last year; they were the only dim spot in an otherwise bright party.”
    “Party?” Phillippa replied quizzically, her attention dragged back to the breakfast room.
    Totty looked up, placing the letter to the side. “The Ball, dear.” At Phillippa’s blank stare, Totty slapped a hand to her forehead. “The Benning Ball! Phillippa, it’s less than two months away. Don’t tell me you forgot! You never forget anything!”
    Phillippa felt color stain her cheeks, shame mingling with horror at her own thoughtlessness.
    She had forgotten. The Benning Ball was one of the premiere social events of the year. Wellington and Prinny vied for invitations. When she first reemerged in society, her mother had insisted that Phillippa throw a ball—and she had been right to do so. The Viscountess was of great assistance then. But as Phillippa’s popularity grew, it seemed her mother felt quite confident to cease meddling and leave the entire business up to her. On a fixed date, all of her family and the rest of the world descended upon town for the occasion, and Phillippa was in charge of it all. From the theme to the napkin color to the entertainments, she chose every last detail. Except, apparently, the musicians.
    “Of course I didn’t forget, Totty. I simply expected mother to be in town by now, to . . . add her judgment to the precedings.”
    “Yes, your mother said something to that effect,” Totty replied, as she picked up the next correspondence in the pile. “But it seems she’s enjoying herself far too much. She leaves everything up to you and is wholly confident you will outdo your success of last year.”
    Oh God. Oh God. Phillippa bit into a piece of ham and furiously began chewing. So little time—the best caterers and florists will be overbooked for the end-of-Season events already! The theme had to be decided, decorations made accordingly. Invitations, engravers, musicians, entertainments—if she failed in this, she would be mocked mercilessly. What would Broughton think? Lady Jane would use this to her advantage for certain, make no mistake. She would have to have something, something truly spectacular to outdo last year, something—something people would be in awe of, something that would make the papers the next day. And here, she thought with a laugh, she had been idly, sillily, mulling over how to reveal Marcus Worth as the Blue Raven!
    Reveal the Blue Raven.
    Phillippa stopped still, mid chew. What if . . . she swallowed her food loudly.
    She would need proof, of course. Hell, she would need to be able to present him on a stage. But a theme began to emerge in her mind. Cloaks and daggers. Bravura and derring-do. All she needed was to be certain, to have physical evidence of Marcus Worth’s secret identity. She had to be sure. But how would she gain access to his life? How was she to find out?
    “Oh!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. It was no good. The chances of him being the Blue Raven were slim, and she would be mucking around in someone’s life for her own gain. Generally, when she did this, she at least received that person’s tacit permission. She should forget the idea entirely. She should forget him.
    “Dear Lord. Lady Worth just will not give up, will she?” Totty said with a snort.
    “What?” Phillippa nearly overset her teacup, she swung round so quickly.
    “Lady Worth has invited us to a dinner party—again.”
    “Let me see!” she grabbed the small ivory card out of a startled Totty’s hand.
    “Its nothing, darling. Lady Worth throws these twice a month. Dull as dishwater, I’m told; it’s all so she can attempt to recruit new investors for her charity.”
    “What’s the charity?” Phillippa tried (and admittedly failed) to inject nonchalance into her voice.
    Totty, looking at Phillippa as if she had grown an extra head, answered, bewildered, “Some orphanage, I believe. Goodness gracious, what do you care? You can’t possibly think to attend ?”
    Lord