Tattleton saw the point. He had not, himself, approached the earl. What was he to say?
Was there something called a goose chase?
He might think so, as thetonwas forever inventing bizarre notions, but for one very important point. Had there been such a thing as a goose chase, it would have been the topic of conversation at dinner. If it had all been a hi-jinks bit of nonsense, they would have talked of it endlessly.
Not one word had been mentioned and Miss Mayton had taken great pains to hide whatever dog hair was still left on her face.
No, that story of a goose chase that Sandren had been told was all stuff and nonsense.
Tattleton staggered out of the stables more alarmed than he’d been going in.
Chapter Nineteen
Rosalind admired thefolds of her draping white gown while Lynette tied on the gold braided belt under the bodice and held out the wonderful velvet floor length cape that that would go over it. The velvet was a very dark red shade and it had gold braiding running along the edges.
She was to go as Boudicca to Lady Bloomington’s masque—warrior queen of the Iceni, leading her people to victory.
This was the night when everything would be decided.
Rosalind had approached her father and told him that Lady Hightower was delighted to escort her and Miss Mayton to the masque.
As she had suspected, the earl had been equally delighted to bow out of the masque. Had he gone, he would have worn a plain domino, as he was not over-fond of that type of party.
He’d already left to meet Lord Cannerly at White’s, and Darden had gone off to his own club. Darden was to meet some of his friends at the YBC, and then they would proceed to Lady Bloomington’s house.
Beatrice and Van Doren would go as well, and that had been a trickier matter to arrange. Beatrice thought they all ought to go together. Rosalind had been forced to explain that Lady Hightower was the sort of person who did not like her favors refused. She and Miss Mayton must go with the lady.
If only she could tell Beatrice the truth! She could not, though. A husband had inserted himself between the sisters and that husband was Van Doren. He would shut down their plan the moment he got wind of it.
It was no matter, she assured herself. Beatrice was always running late and they would be well away by the time she exited her house. Darden would also tarry and her kidnapping would have already occurred by the time he arrived.
She would go in her hired carriage and make circles round Berkeley Square until she saw Conbatten.Hewould not be late, he never was.
Rosalind suspected that while some gentlemen might be able to slip in late without too many frowns from a hostess, a duke had not the luxury. After all, his attendance would be a thing the lady would like to mention in the following days. ‘Yes, I suppose you noticed the duke was there—he attended me early so we might have a conversation before it became too crowded.’
And what duke did they all wish to talk about? Conbatten.
She would see him dismount his horse and she would rap on the carriage roof and then they would be off. She would finally know—did Conbatten love her or did he not? Would he chase the carriage, or shrug his shoulders?
It made her feel sick to think of what the outcome might be. If he did not come after her, she would be devastated.
He must come after her.
Miss Mayton came into the room. “Goodness, Rosalind, you look smashing.”
Miss Mayton was once more dressed in her full regalia of widow’s weeds, her ghostly black veil brushing the hem of her bombazine skirt.
“Darden was a dear to arrange for me to go as Boudicca,” Rosalind said, “though he could not have imagined the significance of it. Boudicca was brave, and so must I be.”
Lynette’s forehead wrinkled over the idea of requiring bravery to attend a masque.
“I wonder if something might be said to me this night, Lynette,” she said by way of explanation. “Something said that could change the course of my life.”
Lynette’s brow cleared and she nodded knowingly.
What she’d told her maid was true—she had just left out the means she and Miss Mayton would employ to get to the important moment.
“We ought to go down, Rosalind,” Miss Mayton said, giving Rosalind a certain look. “We would not wish to make Lady Hightower’s carriage wait.”
