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They moved as one, waiting at the back of the crowd as people signed their names on the papers.

“…Lady Phoebe,” Miss Kensington’s voice carried over the crowd. “At Mr. Jones’s mercer shop on Bond Street.”

Freddie twisted his head. Lady Phoebe—Pippy? Why was she the topic of conversation? Bond Street? Was that where the shop had been when he ran into her?

It was curious. He’d not seen or heard anything of Lady Phoebe in years, and in less than a week, he’d both seen and heard of her. Although he should not be surprised. It was only a matter of time until she was presented at Court. Perhaps that’s why they were in London before the Season had even begun. Court gowns were notoriously detailed.

In truth, he was surprised she’d not already been presented—she must be close to three and twenty. But then, he’d heard her mother had died recently. Perhaps they were only now coming out of mourning.

Pippy.

She was not what he remembered. He grinned. She likely would not appreciate being called by her childhood nickname—even if it were acceptable for him to use such informal terms.

But what did Miss Kensington know of her?

Freddie sidestepped around several gentlemen until he was situated just behind the young woman.

“I heard her family is near pockets to let,” Lady Elizabeth joined in with a lower voice, as if pretending to whisper, while allowing as many people to listen as possible.

He’d never liked Lady Elizabeth very much.

“I witnessed her being denied credit.” Lady Mary’s brows arched with unmistakable disapproval. “My father says they can’t possibly remain in London much longer. He imagines they will have to let the house—” She said it in a tone akin to discovering a fly in one’s soup.

Fin leaned over and peered at the papers on the table. “Which game do you think—” he interrupted Freddie’s eavesdropping.

“Hush,” Freddie said with a scowl. But it was for naught. Miss Kensington, Lady Mary, and Lady Elizabeth had turned away and were headed toward a table hosting Whist.

Freddie grimaced. Ugh, Whist. No game interested him less.

Fin looked at Freddie with a furrowed brow. “Did you hush me just now?”

“No. Surely not.” Freddie scoffed, squinting at the papers and pretending to study the names. Was it worth suffering through Whist for a chance to discover more information about Pippy?

He gave himself an internal shake. He should not think of her in such terms. Pippy was the name of her childhood, not what he’d seen on the pavement outside the shop. No, that was a lady…a refined and very handsome lady. Not the bothersome sister of his school friend.

“Indeed, you hushed me.” Fin crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “And I should like to know why.”

“Perhaps you should become accustomed to disappointment.” Freddie tipped his head to the side. “As you are surely about to be.”

Fin pushed out his lips. “Then perhaps I do not wish to travel to Yorkshire in the dead of winter.”

“You would not cry off now.” Freddie returned the scowl. “You’ve already sent your acceptance.”

“I’m certain Lady Dalmeer would understand. Especially if I fell on some ice and injured my ankle.”

“But you have neither fallen nor injured your ankle,” Freddie shot back.

Fin shrugged. “A fact she does not know.”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “If you are determined to know,” Freddie hissed as he leaned toward his friend, “I heard Miss Kensington mention Lady Phoebe.” He kept his voice lowered. He did not wish for the whole of the party to hear him. “I saw her only a few days past and thought it a great coincidence.”

Fin looked confused. “Lady Phoebe?”

“Yes, you remember. She’s the sister of Lord Newcross.” Freddie hoped bringing up Lias would shift the focus to him rather than Pippy.

The realization dawned on Fin. “I haven’t heard his name in an age. What is Newcross doing these days? The last I heard, he was on the continent.”

Freddie nodded. “I believe he’s still there. Or that is what Lady Phoebe said.” She’d made it sound as if the family had no idea when he’d return—which seemed odd.