“Perhaps they have not got too far,” Miss Mayton said. “I believe the horses were rather slow.”
Slow horses to Gretna Green? What an idea.
“Now, Miss Mayton, the time has come for all ruses and schemes to come to an end. They have been exceedingly charming and entertaining, but you must come clean.”
Miss Mayton looked as if she might counter the idea. He held his hand up. “No more obfuscations, if you please. I am not an idiot. I was not fooled by either the pickpocket or the remarkableArchibald.”
“You were not?”
“Certainly not.”
“Oh dear, Rosalind was so hopeful…you see she just wished…her poor heart shall be broken…”
“I do not see why it should be,” Balthazar said. “I have every intention of proposing this night and no intention of ever telling her I know the truth of these ruses.”
The relief that flooded the old girl’s face was profound. She was an eccentric creature, but she most certainly did care for her charges. Of course, she did—what other middle-aged matron would go to such ridiculous lengths?
“That is very good news, very good indeed.”
“Now, where is she?”
“Come,” Miss Mayton said, “she will be just down the street. It has been all arranged. The coachman and the footman will run off and I will delicately step aside and you may say your piece.”
What a mad world Lady Rosalind’s was. What a mad world he was intent on joining.
Balthazar led Miss Mayton to the great hall. Catching Lady Bloomington’s eye, he said, “I am just taking Miss Mayton out for some air.”
Lady Bloomington appeared grateful to hear it.
Once out of doors, Miss Mayton peered down the avenue. “Well,” she said, “I think they must be just now going round the square to pass by again.”
There were various coaches on the move round Berkeley Square, most of them stopping at Lady Bloomington’s house. He supposed he must wait for one that did not stop. If he understood Lady Rosalind at all, she would helpfully indicate which coach she rode in by poking her head out the window and forlornly waving her handkerchief.
“I will assume I do not need my horse, Miss Mayton,” he said. “They will pass by rather slowly with their slow horses and I might pursue on foot.”
“Oh I imagine so,” Miss Mayton said. “After all, the coachman and footman will wish to run off, and then Shrimps and Mason must get themselves out too.”
Balthazar felt the back of his neck go cold at the mention of Shrimps.
“Why is Lord Van Doren’s servant with them?” he asked.
“Shrimps? Do you know him? He was the one who helped us arrange…things. He has associates who do these sorts of…things. Though, really, I was rather surprised to see him—I had not known he would come along.”
Balthazar was well aware of Shrimps’ associates. They were Mondrian’s boys.
“Miss Mayton,” he said sharply, “what did the coachman look like?”
“Him? I didn’t get such a good look. He was rather thin and pale, though, with very black hair.”
Mondrian.
“Was there anybody else?”
“Well, yes, of course there was a groom. A fairly large boy, I’m afraid his livery did not fit as one might have wished.”
“Did he have a mark on his cheek?”
“Oh, you know him?”
