Page 91 of Henrietta

But Hetty refused to allow him this indulgence. Assuring him that his swallow-tailed coat and satin knee-breeches would be hidden by a driving-cloak, she so admonished and hustled him that within a very few minutes he found himself being smuggled out of the house by way of the back stairs.

But Hetty’s confidence that hailing a hackney would be simple was quickly disproven. There were so many carriages upon the street that it was fairly blocked: no hackney would be coming down here until morning.

‘We shall have to walk down a few streets,’ Timothy said. ‘Don’t like it above half – but can’t stand about here, waiting.’

No, and nor did Hetty much like being peered at by curious grooms and footmen as they were now – how long would it be before they were spotted?

‘Well, well.’ A curious voice spoke and they turned to see the Marquis descending from his own carriage a stone’s throw away. ‘Is the party that poor? Ought I to flee as well?’

‘Just popping out for some – for some … ice!’ Timothy improvised quickly.

‘I’m afraid that doesn’t sound very true,’ Nicolet said apologetically.

‘It isn’t,’ Hetty said, hastening towards him. ‘I cannot tell you why, but could you take us up to Charing Cross?’ she implored him. ‘I promise it is of the utmost urgency and we cannot take our own carriage.’

‘Is this an elopement?’ he enquired. ‘Perhaps you are a little foxed, my dear – wrong brother, you see.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘It is a rescue – I cannot say any more.’

‘Oh, well, in that case,’ Nicolet said with an invitatory wave of his hand. ‘I am your most obedient servant …’

Arthur did not shirk his duties that night. He laughed and mingled and danced and sipped upon champagne. Though he had never felt more mixed up inside, he reflected that he had possibly never been on better form – a trait he could only have inherited from his mother.

He had not had the opportunity to speak to Hetty all evening, and neither did he wish to – for he could not be certain, if they did come face to face with one another again, whether he would beg forgiveness or rail at her some more. Until he knew that, he could not spend a moment alone with her – and yet, despite this, he had never been more aware of her location. Never at the expense of the person with whom he was conversing, no – he was not so ill bred as to ever commit the cardinal sin of glancing over a person’s shoulder – but, whenever there was a natural moment that he might cast his eyes across the room, he found them gravitating towards her.

This was not a new practice. He supposed that in most rooms where he and Hetty were both to be found, he would look to her. To see if she was all right, or perhaps to reassure himself of her presence. As when one has something very valuable in one’s pocket, and one finds oneself patting one’s coat every now and then, to make sure one has not lost it. However furious he might be with her, he could not rid himself of the habit.

He knew, then, when Hetty had left the ballroom, but conversation with the Grandduchess prevented him from noticing her re-entry and subsequent exit with Timothy, and it was possible he would never have known of her departure had it not been for Dawson.

‘My lord …’ Dawson said, appearing quietly at his side. ‘If I might have a moment …?’

‘Everything all right, Dawson?’

‘I am afraid – I should not like to tell tales, but I am a little concerned …’

It was unlike Dawson to prevaricate, and that was enough to capture Arthur’s wandering attention.

‘What?’ he said sharply.

‘One of the footmen spotted Miss Clithero leaving.’

‘Leaving? Our own party?’ It was a ludicrous idea.

‘She left in the company of the Marquis,’ Dawson said. ‘In his carriage, my lord.’

Time seemed to slow. ‘No,’ Arthur shook his head. ‘No.’

‘I did not see it first hand,’ Dawson said apologetically. ‘But he is a truthful boy, not one to tell tales – and there is this …’

He held out a billet with Arthur’s name upon it. Arthur took it. He did not need to read it to know what he must do.

‘Have them bring round my curricle,’ Arthur said. ‘At once.’

CHAPTER XXX.

‘NO,’ Timothy said stoutly, some hours later. ‘I’m not going to go another mile!’

‘We must,’ Hetty implored him. ‘We must.’