Page 56 of More or Less a Countess
“For pity’s sake, Violet, where do you expect me to hide, in the kitchens? You’ve lost your wits!”
“Not hide!” Violet clarified hastily. “That is, I didn’t mean hide, precisely. Just, ah…try and stay out of sight.”
“That’s the same thing! What if Lord Dare happens to be in the entryway, greeting his guests? What do you suggest I do then, Violet? Throw my cloak over my head so he can’t see my face?”
“We won’t go through the front door. We’ll find another way into the house.”
“Indeed? How do you intend to explain to our grandmother why we’re creeping about Lady Westcott’s house in the dark instead of attending her to the front door?”
Violet’s mind was racing. “We’ll tell her I’m dizzy, and wish to remain in the carriage for a moment for a few breaths of fresh air.”
“I told you, Violet, I won’t lie—”
“It’s not a lie. Iamdizzy.”
Dizzy, nauseous, and as close to a hysterical fit as she’d ever been.
Before Hyacinth could answer, the front door of the house opened, and Lady Chase emerged and hobbled toward the carriage. Violet gave Hyacinth’s arm a desperate squeeze. “Oh,please, Hyacinth.”
Hyacinth grumbled and frowned and muttered fretfully under her breath, but at last she let out a defeated sigh. “Very well. I’ll help you, but this is the last time, Violet, and I think it’s very likely you’ll be caught out no matter what I do.”
Violet released the breath she’d been holding and gulped air into her burning lungs. “Oh, thank you.”
The door to the carriage opened. The footman handed in Lady Chase, who settled her considerable bulk onto the seat facing her two granddaughters. “There now, girls. Are we ready to go?”
Violet slipped her hand into Hyacinth’s and held on for dear life. She wasn’t ready, and she never would be, but she nodded and offered her grandmother a sickly smile. “Yes, Grandmother. We’re ready.”
As ready as any criminal about to swing from a rope.
* * * *
“You look like a hungry cat crouched next to a mouse hole, Dare.”
Nick hadn’t taken his eyes off the front door since the first guest arrived nearly an hour ago, but now he glanced up to find Lord Derrick approaching with two glasses of punch in his hands. He offered one to Nick, who took it with a nod of thanks, then turned his attention back to the door.
Miss Somerset might be clever, and in the last five days she’d proved to be the slipperiest, wiliest lady he’d ever come across, but unless she’d found a way to render herself invisible, there wasn’t a chance she’d get by him tonight.
Lord Derrick looked at the door, then back at Nick, and a frown creased his forehead. “Who are you waiting for?”
Nick took a sip of his punch, grimaced, and then drained the rest of it in one swallow. Awful stuff. “A lady.”
Lord Derrick chuckled. “Yes, I suspected that much, Dare, but why do you look as though you’re prepared to pounce on her?”
Nick’s fingers tightened around his glass as frustration pounded through him once again. “Because she’s been avoiding me, and I’ve had enough of it.”
He’d had enough of it five days ago, when she’d refused to receive his call the day after those stolen moments in his carriage on their way back from the Hunterian Museum. When she’d refused again the following day he’d been concerned, then irritated, until at last the simmering anger he’d felt on day four had boiled over into fury by day five.
That was when he’d taken matters into his own hands, and now here he was, hovering by his aunt’s door like a damned fool, ready to snatch Miss Somerset into his arms and run off with her the moment she set a toe across the threshold.
That is, if she even came at all. Lady Chase had accepted his aunt’s invitation, but it would be just like Miss Somerset to find a way to elude him again, after he’d gone to the trouble of wheedling his aunt into hosting this bloody rout. He still wasn’t sure why Lady Westcott had agreed, given she didn’t go out in society anymore, but he was too distracted by his scheme to corner Miss Somerset to give it much thought.
“Is it Louisa Covington you’re so impatient to see?”
A chill rushed over Nick at mention of Louisa, and he turned on Lord Derrick with narrowed eyes. “Why should you imagine it’s Louisa, Derrick? Unless you think, as Lady Westcott does, that I should marry my dead brother’s betrothed in his place, so we can all pretend he’s still alive.”
Derrick’s face paled, and a chasm opened in Nick’s chest. Damn it, why had he said that?
“No, that’s not what I think.” Despite Nick’s ugly words, Lord Derrick’s voice was calm. “I mentioned Louisa only because you and she are old friends, and I supposed you might wish to see her for that reason. Nothing more.”
