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“I have ridden a long way, Lord Thurlby,” Cosgrove said. “I must insist upon remaining until I have seen your son’s betrothed with my own eyes and am satisfied that she is not Ruby Chadwick, The Darling of Drury Lane.”
Lucas was quickly coming to the conclusion that Ruby Chadwick and Lavinia were one and the same—the descriptions were too similar to think otherwise. He needed to warn her. “I’ll go get her,” he said.
“I think not,” Cosgrove snapped. “I won’t have you telling her I’m here and having her run off again. Ring for a servant, if you please.”
Lucas’s father crossed to the bell pull. “Please send for Miss Fernley, John,” he said when the footman arrived.
“Yes, milord.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Cosgrove had called her The Darling of Drury Lane; Lavinia and her friends were all actors. The puzzle pieces were falling swiftly and neatly into place. But was she Ruby or Lavinia? Which was the real woman?
Far too soon, the door reopened and Lavinia entered the room and then stopped short.
“Hello, Ruby,” Lord Cosgrove said.
