Chapter Sixteen

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On the drive to...wherever we were going, Mr. Holmes explained that there would be several members of parliament at the dinner. Presumably, Herr Meyer was seeking to strengthen ties between Bohemia and Britain. Just the sort of thing a nobleman who made up a court would do when visiting a foreign city.

And yet...

"If he were merely trying to strengthen ties, why did he wait so long to host this party?" I asked. "Or did he already meet with anyone since he came to London?"
Mr. Holmes glanced at me. "He went to dinner at two houses when he first arrived in London four weeks ago. After that, he has remained secluded and has not gone out."

"Secluded because he was occupied with the planning of how to capture my parents?" And myself.

"I abhor making conjectures when there is no evidence, but it seems likely."

No evidence. Did Mr. Holmes hope that such evidence would come to light in the rented home of Herr Meyer? Or was he hoping the Bohemian nobleman would give himself away once he saw me?

"Is there any particular role I should play this evening?" I asked, making sure my gloves were smooth. Beneath the fabric, my palms felt damp and clammy. Nerves, I supposed, from the uncertainty of the whole thing.

"I think not."

Again, I had to wonder why he had thought to bring me along with him at all. Was I to be the bait in a trap to draw Herr Meyer into revealing himself?

Since I couldn't think of anything else to ask, I fell silent. I drummed the fingers of my right hand on my lap. When she heard everything I had been through, I had every certainty Mum would say it was worthy of any plot played out on the stage.

****

There was a cold wind when I stepped out of the hansom, and I realized a thick fog had begun to roll in. "It is evenings like this that I can believe Jack the Ripper was able to terrorize London not so long ago," I said, glancing up at Mr. Holmes. Had he helped Scotland Yard at the time?

As curious as I was, I didn't dare ask.

"The fog has kept many men hidden from the law," Mr. Holmes said. He offered his arm to me and I placed my hand on his elbow. We approached the front of the sizable house, falling in behind another couple.

I couldn't resist trying to peer up at the house we were approaching. In my exploration of London, I hadn't ventured into the wealthier neighborhoods often, so I didn't recognize the stone structure. I didn't know where in London I was. Did it even matter?

Yes. If I had to run for my life—again—I wanted to know where to go. Disappearing into the fog might sound like a good way to escape but I had no desire to get lost myself.

A stiff butler granted us entry and took my cloak. Herr Meyer was not waiting to greet each guest with a hostess as was usual. Were we late and he had gone to join his other guests? I glanced at Mr. Holmes and his inscrutable expression.

On second thought, perhaps we had arrived exactly when Mr. Holmes had intended for there was no one to object to my entry.

The townhouse seemed filled as we ventured closer to the ballroom. It reminded me of when I had gone with Mum to her private recitals. I had always watched from above as the grand ladies and fine gentlemen mingled together and then listened in awe to Mum's spectacular singing.

To be among the crowd was something else altogether.

There was a kind of thrill to know that I was in disguise and this crowd of people didn't know it. I had to bite my cheek to keep from grinning too wide.

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