Sir John hadlingered out of doors, watching the carriages arrive one after another. His stolen costume was safely hidden in the bushes in the back of Lady Hathaway’s garden.
He had originally thought he must capture Miss Dell either going in or out of the ball. But how would that be possible? He needed to encounter her alone, not surrounded by her family.
This was further confirmed when he saw her arrive. He might have tried such a gambit had Miss Dell only been escorted by her mother. But the brother was there, too. He did not think he’d find success attempting to subdue the brother.
Further, if anybody was to see him make off with Miss Dell, the alarm would be raised. He would need time to get out of the city. He had mapped out an obscure route that would take longer, but would avoid having anybody on his heels. The coachman of the last carriage lining the road was already under the weather, thanks to his kind offer of ale laced with laudanum. All he need do was catch Miss Dell alone, pretend to have a pistol, and tie her up in the coach. He would drive the vehicle himself. God had given him the steps and all he need do was follow them.
He had the note in his pocket and felt confident he could count on Miss Dell’s determination to uncover Veritas.
*
Giles had arrivedto Lady Hathaway’s house shockingly early. Though it had never happened before, this night he’d been the very first to come to the doors. Or sail to the doors on a Viking ship, as the case may be. To say that Lady Hathaway was surprised to see him so soon was an understatement. The butler had gone to fetch her as she was not even yet lined up to receive her guests. Then she had peered at him as if to be certain her eyes did not deceive her.
He’d made some mumbled excuse of having to make a stop first and then that person not being at home and hurried into the ballroom.
It had been a strange feeling, being in there alone. Every other ballroom he’d ever come into was well to being filled. He’d felt foolish, standing there under the gaze of a footman who hardly knew what to do with him.
It had been necessary, though. Far too many times, he’d approached Miss Dell, only to find her supper already claimed. It could not be so this evening. He had much to tell her and it could not wait. He was certain she was in danger, and she must be convinced of it.
He’d thought of going straight to Lord Penderton with the information, until he considered how bizarre it would all sound. It was likely Lord Penderton knew Sir John, and just as likely he admired the fellow. After all, they were both of that intellectual ilk and probably had a lot to talk about. He, himself, did not know Penderton well. The gentleman was so rarely out on the town.
He had set his course and he would stay the course. He had secured Miss Dell’s supper and now he moved through the motions of attempting to entertain other females as he danced with one after another.
As he did so, he began to wonder if it would really be necessary to retreat to the countryside to cure himself of his flirtations. It was beginning to seem as if he had been wholly cured already. He had not the least desire to compose a compliment and no amount of frothy gowns or gentle shining curls seemed to inspire it in him.
His eyes no longer drifted in search of beauty, except in the direction of Miss Dell. It was as if she were a magnet pulling him toward her. Just like a magnet, he would have to pull hard in the opposite direction to come loose.
Would he ever, though? No matter how hard he pulled, would he ever be free of her? Shakespeare would tell him a resounding no—he described love asan ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.
Wherever their lives took them, he was certain to see her over the seasons. My God, would he be forced to see her escorted as a married lady? Must he smile when it was mentioned that she’d borne another’s child?
He knew very well that he was not good enough for Miss Dell. But then, who was?
Burke, perhaps. Though, if Burke had been interested, Giles would have noticed it by now. He was friendly with Miss Dell, he’d known her for quite some time on account of Burke’s friendship with Miss Darlington and Lord Mendbridge. For all Burke’s defense of Miss Dell, and the dressing down of himself, Giles did not think it would be Burke.
Who then? And was that lucky fellow really any better than himself? Especially if he were to improve? Was he not doing that already? Who knew how much he might improve if he set his mind to it?
Giles stopped his thoughts running in that direction. It was becoming a habit and it was self-indulgent. Only a child laments the sun ought to be out at midnight. He could not allow himself to be so nonsensical.
Why was she kindly smiling at Jost this moment? It could not be Jost—the man could not gather up two words together in front of a lady.
He would put his foot down at Jost.
Giles forced himself to keep his attention on the matter at hand. Miss Dell must be protected from Sir John. She must gain an understanding of what he really was. She must come to understandwhohe really was. What happened after that would be none of his affair.
The next dance would be with Miss Dell. This current dance, with Miss he-could-not-remember-her-name, would end. Lady Hathaway would send round champagne as she always did at this point in the festivities, and then he would escort Miss Dell. He would have all the time he needed to be certain she understood the danger.
*
Kitty had beengay all evening, she had not once allowed her thoughts to settle on anything serious. Not so long ago, she would have chided herself for being too lighthearted. Or, if not chided, had a vague sense of failing to attend to important matters.
It was rather a relief to throw off the responsibility. The more she tried it, the more she liked it. She did not suppose she would ever give up her studies, or her reaching for answers, or her delight in considering another’s hypothesis. However, she had come to develop her own hypothesis—a varied life was a well-lived life.
She was not to be so full of conceit as to think that the world’s problems and mysteries could not be grappled with without her constant gaze. There must always be made time for dancing and laughter. She further suspected that these diversions gave her mind time to work quietly, without her conscious interference. Allowing time away from her studies might justhelpher studies.
Whether that theory was right, she would discover eventually. For now, she would only look forward to the next dance. And then supper. She knew that perhaps she should not look quite so forward to encountering Lord Grayson, but she did all the same.
She had been handed a glass of champagne and that had made her mood even lighter than what it had been.
