"Just to be clear on that issue" — Arthur had been following her dissertation closely—"will you promise — in order to ease our no doubt irrational male fears — that you will not yourself in any way try to apprehend this thief?"
Helena met his gaze, then laughed. "Very well, mon ami—I will promise you that. I will do nothing but watch — it will be up to you all" — she waved at the men—"to catch this thief before he absconds with my treasure."
"And if we don't," Lucifer grumbled, "we'll never hear the end of it."
The clocks struck midnight. Helena rose; the other ladies followed, deeming their planning done. As she swept past Lucifer's chair, Helena patted his dark head. "I have every confidence in you all, mes enfants"
Lucifer, who when standing towered over Helena, as did every man in the room, looked thoroughly disgruntled.
By noon the next day, all the married men had accepted that shifting their ladies from Helena's plan was beyond their capabilities.
"We're going to have to cover every possible approach to the house." Luc looked down at the plan of the house he'd unrolled on his desk. Lucifer and Martin flanked him, likewise poring over the diagram.
Simon stood opposite, his gaze flicking from the plan to their faces, then back again. "There's really no other choice?"
"None." Lucifer replied without even looking up. "Take it from us — further argument is wasted effort."
Arthur strolled up. He glanced at the plan, then sighed. "I really hate to leave at such a moment, but those negotiations will not wait."
Lucifer, Luc, and Martin all looked at him.
"Don't worry," Luc said.
"We'll manage," came from Lucifer.
"Especially given you got her promise not to tackle the thief herself." Martin grinned. "You've done your bit — you can leave the rest to us."
Arthur looked at them, then nodded. "Very well — but send word to Devil if you do need help."
They nodded.
Arthur pulled out his watch, checked the time. "Well, I'd best go and see if Louise is ready to depart. We were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago."
He left them studying the house plan.
In the front hall, he came upon a scene of frenetic energy with maids and footmen dashing this way and that, streaming about the ladies gathered in the hall's center.
Louise saw him. "There you are. We've been waiting for you."
Arthur simply smiled.
Minerva, Emily, and Anne farewelled him with wishes for a speedy and safe journey.
A step beyond, the twins had their heads together. Arthur paused to take in the sight, one he'd seen so many times, then he slid one arm around Amanda's waist, the other around Amelia, hugged them both, and planted a kiss first on one forehead, then the other. "Take care, both of you."
They laughed, beamed, and kissed him back.
"Take care, Papa."
"Come and visit again."
Stifling a sigh, he released them, trying hard not to think that he had, indeed, truly let them go. He took Phyllida's hand and kissed it. "You, too, my dear."
Phyllida smiled serenely and kissed his cheek. "Have a good trip."
Arthur turned to Helena. "As for you…"
Helena raised her brows haughtily, but her eyes danced. "Me, I will do very well, I thank you. But you had best be away, or you will not reach London tonight." Her smile softened; she gave him her hands and lifted her cheek for him to kiss. "Take care."
"That's my line," Arthur growled, obliging with the kiss, then squeezing her hands before releasing them.
A renewed tide of "good-byes" and waves carried them through the front door. Arthur led Louise down the steps to where their coach stood, heavily burdened.
He handed Louise in, then, with a last wave at the assembled ladies, who, he now noted, had been joined by their husbands and his only surviving son, he followed his wife into the carriage. The door was shut, the footman stood back. A whip cracked; the coach lurched, then rumbled forward.
They waved, then Louise sighed and sat back. Arthur did the same. Louise glanced at him. "So, are you happy with your sons-in-law?"
Arthur raised his brows. "They're both good men, and they're clearly… devoted."
"Devoted?" Louise's smile grew; she glanced away. "Yes, I daresay you might call it that."
Arthur shot her a glance. "And you? Are you happy with them?"
"With Dexter, yes. With Luc… I have absolutely no qualms — I never did. They seem to be settling together nicely, quite as well as I expected, but there's something not quite straight yet. However, I'm sure it, whatever it is, will sort itself out." Louise faced forward. "I asked Helena to keep an eye on them — I'm sure she will."
Arthur studied her profile, then, as the coach turned up the long incline crossing the opposite face of the valley, he looked out at the Chase, basking in the sunshine. Wondered if he should write and warn Luc. Wondered where his own true loyalties now lay.
Louise glanced at him, then made a dismissive sound and patted his hand. "Stop worrying — they'll do."
Arthur humphed, settled back, closed his eyes. And decided they probably would — either fate or Helena would make sure of it.
They'd decided on the following Saturday evening for their Summer Ball. That gave them five days in which to prepare — possible, but only just. The first item that needed to be dealt with was the invitations; immediately after lunch, the ladies knuckled down and wrote them out, then co-opted every stableboy and groom to deliver them.
That done, they spent the next three hours disposed about the drawing room discussing and deciding and making lists. Portia and Penelope convinced Miss Pink that their education in ladylike endeavors could best be served by their attendance; their novel suggestions often induced much hilarity, but occasionally were incorporated into the various lists.
A list for entertainment, one for food, another for furniture, yet another for implements — crockery, cutlery, and glassware.
"We should have an Order of Ceremony," Penelope stated.
When Minerva smiled, Portia weighed in, "No — Pen's right. We need to make sure certain things get done by certain times, don't we?"
She looked about innocently. The assembled ladies exchanged glances. Neither Portia nor Penelope, Emily nor Anne was supposed to know…
Amelia asked, "You mean for when the fireworks will be let off, and when the dancing will begin?"
"And when the food will be served and so on." Portia frowned. "I would think a list like that would be indispensable."
Relief washed through the room; Portia and Penelope noticed, but when Phyllida and Amanda leapt in to agree with their suggestion, the moment slid away, along with their unvoiced questions.
When they were satisfied they'd identified all that needed to be done, and the four girls had gone out to stroll the lawns, Amelia relaxed in her chair, her gaze on Phyllida, on the chaise beside Amanda. "I know you're eager to get back to Colyton. We can't ask you to delay—
Phyllida cut her off with a wave. "Alasdair and I discussed it last night. I do want to get back, but…" She smiled wryly. "I'd never forgive myself — and he certainly wouldn't — if we left and things went wrong for want of a few extra hands."
"Still, it's an imposition. You've already done so much—
"Nonsense. You know we enjoy it. Besides, we've already sent messages. Alasdair sent his groom with dispatches to Devil in London, and Devil will send our news on to Papa and Jonas in Devon, so all's settled." Phyllida leaned forward and squeezed Amelia's hand. "Indeed, we feel so… incensed by this thief, so determined to have him caught, I doubt we'd leave even if you truly didn't need our aid."
Helena nodded sagely. "This thief, whoever he is, is beneath contempt. I do not believe he does not know that his actions will harm the innocent. I consider it an honor to have a part in arranging his downfall."