Kendra had arrived earlier, consumed by nerves but comforted by the support of the women who had become her friends. They were delighted to be part of this grand occasion and determined to see justice done. Kendra wore a sumptuous black silk gown decorated with jet beads, and she wore a necklace and earrings of black onyx. The black half mask she would don later was clenched in one nervous hand along with her black lace folding fan.

When she’d arrived at Ashton House, she’d been greeted by the official hostesses: the Duchess of Ashton; Lady Julia Randall, daughter of the late duke of Castleton; and Lady Julia’s exquisite grandmother, the Duchess of Charente. Mariah studied her costume and said teasingly, “You look like a really beautiful Angel of Death!”

Kendra laughed and relaxed a little. “That was the effect I was hoping for.”

Lady Julia said, “We have a whole box full of black armbands for your allies to wear when it’s time for the evening’s special performance.”

“You don’t think the idea is mad?” Kendra asked nervously.

“Not at all,” the Duchess of Charente said in her charming French accent. “One must first get people’s attention to persuade their minds. Stating your case in a performance will fascinate them.”

“We’ve had a program printed for guests,” Lady Julia said. “Have you seen it?”

She handed a copy to Kendra. The program described the event as “The Duchesses’ Bijoux Ball & Mystery Performance.” Under her breath, she said softly, “You haven’t met my foster son, Benjamin Thomas, have you? He’s the orphaned son of one of Alex’s cousins. He goes to school at the Westerfield Academy, where Alex and Ashton and Kirkland and others became loyal friends.”

Kendra’s gaze shot up. “I’ve heard of the school.”

“Benjamin loves it. If and when you regain custody of your son, you might consider sending him there.” Lady Julia smiled warmly. “They have a fine big brother program where older students work with new young ones. Benjamin enjoys doing that.”

Aristocratic London was a very small world. Luckily Lady Agnes could be trusted not to reveal that her son was already a Westerfield student. “I’ll definitely consider it for Christopher. Do you know if the headmistress, Lady Agnes, will be here tonight? I know an invitation was sent to her.”

“She declined with regret, but said we already had quite enough females of ducal blood!”

Kendra laughed. “And countesses past counting!”

A trumpet fanfare sounded from the ballroom. The three hostesses collected themselves. “Time for us to greet arriving guests,” Mariah Ashton said. “We’ll only have two dances before your performance. We don’t want to let the guests drink too much before we start.”

The women moved away, heading to the ballroom. All three were petite and exquisitely gowned. They looked like a bouquet of flowers—with spines of pure steel.