For once she wasted no time over her toilet, and half an hour later ran down the stairs, her sunshade caught under her arm, her gloves only half on. There was no sign of Rule, and after casting a wary glance in the direction of the library door, she sped past it and was out in the street before anyone could have time to observe her flight.
The coach was waiting, and directing the coachman to drive to Lord Winwood’s lodging in Pall Mall, Horatia climbed in and sank back against the cushions with a sigh of relief at having succeeded in leaving the house without encountering Rule.
The Viscount was at breakfast when his sister was announced, and looked up with a frown. “Lord, Horry, what the devil brings you at this hour? You shouldn’t have come; if Rule knows you’ve dashed off at daybreak it’s enough to make him suspect something’s amiss.”
Horatia thrust a trembling hand into her reticule and extracted a crumpled sheet of gilt-edged paper. “Th-that’s what brings me!” she said. “Read it!”
The Viscount took the letter and smoothed it out. “Well, sit down, there’s a good girl. Have some breakfast... Here, what’s this?”
“P-Pel, can it be L-Lethbridge?” she asked.
The Viscount turned the letter over, as though seeking enlightenment on the back of it. “Dashed if I know!” he said. “Looks to me like a trap.”
“B-but why should it be? Do you think p-perhaps he is sorry?”
“No, I don’t,” said his lordship frankly. “I’d say at a guess that the fellow’s trying to get his hands on you. End of the Long Walk? Ay, I know that Temple. Devilish draughty it is, too. And it’s near one of the gates. Tell you what, Horry: I’ll lay you a pony he means to abduct you.”
Horatia clasped her hands. “But, P-Pel, I must go! I must try and g-get the brooch b-back!”
“So you shall,” said the Viscount briskly. “We’ll see some sport now!” He gave back the letter and took a long drink of ale. “Now you listen to me, Horry. We’ll all go to Vauxhall tonight—you and I and Pom, and Edward too if he likes. At midnight you’ll go to that temple, and the rest of us will lie hid in the shrubbery there. We shall see who goes in, never fear. If it’s Lethbridge, we’ve got him. If it’s another—though, mind you, it looks to me like Lethbridge—you’ve only to give a squawk and we’ll hear you. We shall have that damned brooch by tomorrow, Horry!”
Horatia nodded. “Yes, that’s a very clever plan, P-Pel. And I’ll tell Rule that I am g-going with you, and he w-won’t mind that at all. D-didn’t Lethbridge c-come to town yesterday?”
The Viscount scowled. “Can’t have done. Edward and that fellow Hawkins and I stayed till past nine on that cursed Heath, and never saw a sign of him. You know we stopped Rule’s chaise?”
“Yes, of c-course. Sir Roland told me and Rule did too.”
“Gave me a devilish queer turn when I saw who it was,” confessed the Viscount. “He’s quick, is Rule. Must own he’s quick, Horry. Recognized my mare the instant he clapped eyes on her.”
“B-but he didn’t suspect, P-Pel? You’re sure he d-didn’t suspect?” she cried anxiously.
“Lord, no! How should he?” said the Viscount. He glanced at the clock. “I’d best get hold of Pom, and as for you, you go home, Horry.”
Arrived once more in Grosvenor Square, Horatia discarded her hat and her gloves and went in search of Rule. She found him in the library, reading the Morning Chronicle. He rose at her entrance and held out his hand. “Well, my love? You’re up betimes.”
Horatia put her hand in his. “It was such a f-fine morning,” she explained. “And I am to d-drive in the park with M-mama.”
“I see,” he said. He lifted her fingers to his lips. “Is not today the twenty-eighth, Horry?”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” she replied.
“Then will you come with me to the ball at Almack’s rooms?” suggested Rule.
Consternation spread over her face. “Oh—oh, how d-de-lightful that would be!” she said. “Only I c-can’t! I’ve promised to go to Vauxhall with P-Pel.”
“I have always found,” remarked his lordship pensively, “that most of one’s engagements were only made to be broken.”
“I can’t break this one,” Horatia said with real regret.
“Is it so important? You will make me jealous, Horry—of Pelham.”
“It’s very, very important!” she said earnestly. “That is to say, I m-mean—Well, P-Pel wants me to be there particularly, you see!”
The Earl was playing with her fingers. “Do you think Pel would permit me to make one of this expedition?” he said.
“Oh, no, I am quite sure he w-wouldn’t like that at all!” said Horatia, appalled. “At least—I d-don’t mean that, of course, but—but he is to present some people to me, and they are strangers, you see, and I daresay you would not c-care for them.”
“But I have a reputation for being the most friendly of mortals,” said the Earl plaintively. He let go her hand and turned to arrange his cravat in the mirror. “Don’t distress yourself on my account, my dear. If I don’t care for these strangers I promise I will dissemble.”
Horatia gazed at him in complete dismay. “I d-don’t think you would enjoy it, M-Marcus. Really, I do not.”
He bowed slightly. “At your side, Horry, I could enjoy anything,” he said. “And now, my dear, if you will excuse me, I will go and attend to all the affairs which my poor Arnold wants me to deal with.”
Horatia watched him go out of the room, and straightway sat herself down at the desk in the window and scribbled a frantic note to her brother.
This missive, brought by hand, reached the Viscount’s lodging just as he came back to it from his visit to Sir Roland. He read it, swore under his breath, and dashed off an answer.
The devil fly away with Rule, he wrote. I’ll set Pom on to draw him off.
When this brief note was delivered to her Horatia read it rather doubtfully. Her experience of Sir Roland’s tact was not such as to lead her to place very much reliance on his handling of an awkward situation. However, she herself had said all she dared to dissuade Rule from accompanying her to Vauxhall, and Sir Roland could hardly be less successful.
The Earl was still closeted with Mr Gisborne when a lackey came in to announce that Sir Roland Pommeroy desired to speak with him. He looked up from the paper he was about to sign, and Mr Gisborne, who happened to be watching him, was surprised to see a gleam of amusement in his eyes. The information that Sir Roland had called did not seem to warrant that particular gleam. “Very well,” said his lordship. “Tell Sir Roland that I will be with him immediately... Alas, Arnold, something always interrupts us, does it not? I am quite desolated, believe me, but I shall have to go—”
“Desolated, sir?” said Mr Gisborne, cocking an eyebrow. “If you will permit me to say so, I thought that you looked rather pleased.”
“But that was not because the interruption drags me from your side, my dear boy,” said his lordship, putting down his quill and rising. “I am enjoying myself this morning.”
Mr Gisborne wondered why.
Sir Roland Pommeroy had been shown into one of the saloons, and was standing by the window when the Earl came in. From the movement of his lips it might have been supposed that he was silently rehearsing a speech.
“Good morning, Pommeroy,” said the Earl, closing the door. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”
Sir Roland turned and came forward. “Morning, Rule. Beautiful day! Trust you reached home safely yesterday? Extremely distressed I should have mistaken your chaise for—er—for the other one.”
“Not at all,” replied his lordship with great civility. “There was not the slightest need for you to put yourself to the trouble of calling, my dear fellow.”
Sir Roland tugged at his cravat. “To tell you the truth—didn’t come on that score,” he confessed. “Felt sure you would understand how it was.”