looked down at my wrist, even though I was wearing white gloves and no watch. All three of us had left our phones back in the sitting room.

“She’s late,” Lily said. “Isn’t she?”

Sadie-Grace was supposed to be here by now. Her part in the plan was fairly straightforward. Once my “adjustments” to the engine kicked in and the senator did what Campbell had assured us he would do in response, Sadie-Grace just had to let herself out of the trunk, plant a certain something—that wasn’t the pearls—on the senator, do a little switcheroo, and…

“Here!” Sadie-Grace came bounding around the bend in the road. “I’m here!”

And there we were: four Debutantes on the side of the road, one mile from the action.

“You need to get dressed,” Campbell said. “Hurry.”

As she retrieved her dress from the spot in the woods where she’d left it, wrapped in plastic, Sadie-Grace caught us up.

The senator had driven to meet Walker.

Walker wasn’t there.

The car wouldn’t start up again.

“And?” Campbell prompted as she forcibly turned Sadie-Grace around and zipped her.

“And,” Sadie-Grace said giddily, “he drank the scotch in the glove box!”

It was a strong, expensive scotch—strong enough to hide the taste of… other things. After a single drink, he would have been out of it. Per the plan, Sadie-Grace had popped out of the trunk, switched the laced scotch for a normal bottle, helped the senator to ingest a few more shots of that, and then left him with a parting gift. By the time anyone found him, his blood alcohol level alone would be more than enough to explain his… condition.

Campbell glanced over at me. “How long will he be out for?”

“Long enough.”

“How much time do you think we have until someone spots the car?”

Until we got closer to the ball, the road would see very little traffic, and—not surprisingly, given his desire to be discreet—the senator hadn’t exactly parked in plain view.

“If we’re lucky?” I said. “An hour. Maybe two.”