On the inside, each seat lifted up to reveal a compartment filled with weapons, and there were compartments overhead as well.
Hamill could wage a war, just himself and his carriage.
There was so much to be done before that little adventure, though. His future must be secured, and his future was Lady Rosalind.
As he entered through the doors of Lady Bloomington’s house, he wondered what Lady Rosalind had dressed herself as. He also hoped she was nottoowell disguised. He would like to pull her away into a corner before the ball began.
“Lady Bloomington,” he said, bowing to her Egyptian queen.
“Conbatten,” she said, “excellent to see you.”
Very suddenly, Lady Bloomington’s butler raced to her side and whispered in her ear.
Whatever the fellow said, it seemed to discompose the lady.
“Oh dear,” she muttered.
“Lady Bloomington?” he asked. “May I be of service?”
The lady seemed to consider the offer. Then she leaned close to him. “Perhaps you might. Cahill has just told me that a certain Mrs. Mayton appears to have gone mad in the ballroom and is rushing here and there…looking forthe duke. Do you suppose it’s you?”
Balthazar pressed his lips together to stop from laughing. He could not fathom what Miss Mayton was up to this time. Perhaps he was to be told that Lady Rosalind had been stolen off to the garden by some rogue and he’d better go rescue her.
He would be delighted.
“I suspect it is indeed me that she seeks. Never fear, Lady Bloomington,” he said. “Whatever bee is in the lady’s bonnet, I will take the sting out of it in all haste.”
Lady Bloomington looked exceedingly relieved to hear it.
Balthazar strode toward the ballroom and went through the doors.
The scene that confronted him was not exactly what he expected. The gathering of guests had seemed to shrink to the edges of the ballroom to escape the madwoman in the center of it. There were vicars and jesters, pirates and queens, all pressed against the walls and looking exceedingly alarmed.
In the center of the floor, Miss Mayton darted here and there, looking like a ghost who was forever searching.
She was garbed in the full regalia of her widow’s weeds, her black lace veil trailing on the floor and smearing Lady Bloomington’s chalk design.
“Where is he? I must find the duke at once!” she shouted at the frightened guests.
“Miss Mayton,” he said loudly, to gain her attention.
“Your Grace! There you are! Finally!” she cried, racing to him.
As the crowd looked on, she grasped at his domino. Then she paused and took a deep breath. “Lady Rosalind, well you know about the rash baron, I’m afraid he’s kidnapped her. To Gretna Green!”
Gretna Green? This was too much. How was he not to start laughing and never stop? He had jested with himself that he ought to propose before Lady Rosalind arranged her own kidnapping. Apparently, he’d not been quick enough—she’d actually done so.
That charming, mad lady.
“I thought I should find you in here right away,” Miss Mayton said breathlessly, “but it has been some time, a quarter hour, I think.”
Balthazar peeled Miss Mayton’s fingers from his domino. He folded his arms. “I see. And you think I ought to go racing after her to save her from the rash baron?”
Miss Mayton looked perplexed over the question. “What else would you do?”
“Very good. Now where do you suppose I might find this carriage heading toward Gretna Green, as it has been a quarter of an hour already. How shall I catch up with them?”
Miss Mayton appeared to be thinking hard. Balthazar dug his nails into his palms to stop from laughing.
