"There is Hyatt, just come in," Meadows mentioned gloomily. "I daresay the baroness will give him the next dance. I shall try for the one after that."
"Try for the one after this, Mr. Meadows," she replied. "I doubt Hyatt will ask Olivia for a dance." Or Miss Harwood either, she added to herself.
At the end of the music, one of the other gentlemen from their set asked Laura for the next dance, and she accepted gladly. She did not want Hyatt to see her unpartnered. She gave scarcely a thought to Olivia. When Meadows was with them, he made himself responsible for her welfare, so Laura could take a break from this onerous chore.
Olivia's eyes narrowed when Hyatt entered. Her plan was beginning to take shape. John was standing at the side of the room, making various grimaces and head motions that told her he was impatient to be off. She must avoid Mr. Meadows and Laura, and that meant fooling them into thinking she was dancing with someone else.
As soon as the music stopped, she said to Lord Talman, "I see Lord Hyatt has just come in. I must have a word with him about my portrait. Thank you for a lovely dance, Lord Talman."
He bowed punctiliously. "The pleasure was mine, Baroness. I look forward to seeing you at your ball. You won't forget the card for Rufus and Rodney? So very kind of you-"
"Yes, yes," she said, and darted off toward Hyatt.
"Lord Hyatt, may I have a word with you?" she said. Placing her fingers on his elbow, she detached him from his group to lead him into the hall beyond.
Meadows saw them go and felt sure Hyatt would be the baroness's next partner. Laura watched in confusion, hoping that Olivia had not taken the shatterbrained notion of trying to arrange a reconciliation between her and Hyatt. Olivia frequently scolded her for having lost such a prime parti. What was the wretched girl up to? When the music resumed, Meadows danced with one of the other ladies from their set. It was a rollicking country dance. Between the exertions of the moves and the loud music, coherent thought was impossible.
Olivia peered from the hallway to see that her two jailers were occupied. Then to be rid of Hyatt, she said, "When will you bring my portrait to Charles Street? My aunt is eager to see it. Is it dry yet?"
"It is dry enough to move, though not completely set. I can have it sent over tomorrow, if you are eager to have it."
"Oh yes, I am dying to see it. So you will bring it along tomorrow?"
"I will have it sent, Baroness," he repeated.
Olivia paid no heed to this subtlety. "Wonderful. Thank you so much. I'll let you go now, Lord Hyatt. I am sure you are eager to find Lady Devereau. Actually, I have not seen her this evening."
She fluttered a wave at him and darted upstairs for her wrap. Hyatt was annoyed at the reference to Lady Devereau but relieved that he had not been coerced into partnering that wretched chit of a girl. As the dance had already begun, he would have to wait half an hour for the next set. His eyes skimmed around the floor until he spotted Laura. A scowl drew his eyebrows together as he strolled into the refreshment parlor, where he was soon surrounded by a flock of admirers.
Olivia snatched up her pelisse and went downstairs, where John and his crew awaited her. Other guests were arriving. Under cover of the confusion, Olivia slipped behind a potted palm and got out without her hostess recognizing her.
"By Jove, it took you long enough!" were John's first words, after not seeing his beloved for close to a week.
"You changed the plan," Olivia retorted sharply. "I had a deuced hard time escaping from Mr. Meadows and Laura."
"It'll get easier with practice," he said nonchalantly.
"Do you have my domino?"
"Where's the spare domino, Charlie?" he called to his friend, as they hastened to their carriage.
"I don't have it. You lent it to Miss Hanson last week."
This was a new outrage for Olivia to consider. "Then you will just have to lend me yours," she said to John. "I cannot let my gown be seen. Someone might recognize it."
"Dash it, all white gowns look alike."
Angela Carstairs came to the rescue. "The fact that it is white will alert any Nosey Parkers hanging about that Olivia is a deb. You must lend her yours, John."
"I don't see why everything must be left up to me." He held the door while Olivia climbed into his rig.
She had never been inside it before. To a lady accustomed to the baroque opulence of the Turtle, it seemed a shoddy thing. It was hardsprung and crowded. Empty wine bottles rolled around the floor. The crowding allowed John to slide his arm around her, however, and she was soon distracted from lesser consideration.
"Did you miss me, John?" she asked shyly.
"By the living jingo, I missed you every hour of the day. Did Angela tell you I beat the stuffing out of Hanson in a curricle race to Brighton? Sixteen miles an hour. I won a monkey off him."
"Would that be Miss Hanson's brother?" Olivia asked stiffly.
"Who else would it be? Did they cut up stiff at Castlefield when they got you home?"
"Yes, they were horrid," she said, hoping for support.
"I would have beaten the stuffing out of Talman if he hadn't been your host. I feared he'd take it out on you."
"Oh, no, he is a real gentleman."
"Did he offer for you?" Angela asked.
Sensing that a negative might lower her value, Olivia replied, "I didn't give him the chance. He keeps calling on me ten times a day. Tonight he asked me if his twin brothers could come to my ball."
"If you're planning to fill the house with such lumber as the Castlefield lot, you can keep my card," John said.
"They have already been invited," Olivia replied. This did not seem the moment to tell him he was not to receive a card. Even her biddable Aunt Hettie had drawn the line there.
The conversation continued, mostly about the rousing time enjoyed at Gatwick, until Olivia's head began to ache. When the carriage drew to a stop on the south side of Oxford Street, they arranged their masks.
"Good God, what is that thing?" Yarrow exclaimed, when he saw her peacock mask. The feathers had become tattered from long battering under her skirt.
"It is a mask," she said through gritted teeth.
"Don't expect to be seen on my arm in that. It looks like it came off the ark. Luckily I have a spare in the side pocket.”
Olivia removed her mask and put on the blue one he handed her. It did not match the black domino and was hardly less tattered than the one John casually threw into the gutter.
Yarrow handed Olivia his domino but did not help her put it on. The elegant structure and the fashionable crowd flocking about the doorway of the Pantheon led Olivia to believe the place was not so bad as she had feared. When they entered, the magnificence of gilt trim glimmered under the light of the chandeliers. It was a moment before she realized that the guests were less elegant than the edifice. Several of the men were staggering, and the accents issuing from their companions had never been heard in a polite saloon, unless their owners were passing a tray of drinks.
"Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "This looks very-"
"I told you you would love it," John said.
"No, I do not love it. It seems horrid. But since we are here, let us have one dance, and then return to Peckford's. If we are back soon, Mr. Meadows won't know I ever left."
"We cannot stand up and jig it until we have wet our whistles," John said.
"But I want to dance now!" she insisted. It was the first time since arriving in London that a gentleman had set his wishes ahead of hers.
"I see I must tame you, wildcat," John said, but he said it with a smile that stirred a remembrance of his wicked embrace, and she went along without further argument.
Yarrow led the group upstairs, where boxes were arranged along a balcony, to look down on the dance floor below.