“Wandered off?” he asked. She squeezed his arm in warning.
“She likely went to the retiring room, Your Grace.”
“I’ll find her,” Catherine said to John. “Why don’t we walk there together? We can take a turn and see if she is anywhere in the crowd.”
Lady Trilling looked concerned. “I’m very sorry, Your Grace. I’m sure she couldn’t have gone far.”
“It is no matter,” he said and bowed. “I’m sure you’re right, Lady Trilling.” However, Catherine thought, the tight line of John’s mouth, even beneath the domino, could not fool the older woman.
Once they had left Lady Trilling and her friends, John broke out in a string of oaths.
“How could she have let her out of her sight?”
“We shouldn’t have danced.” Guilt radiated through her chest.
“Goddamn it. We were gone for a matter of minutes.”
They struggled to move towards the retiring room. The packed bodies made navigation difficult and Henrietta was nowhere.
“I have known Lady Trilling since birth,” John seethed. “She knew my father when he was a child. You think she would be able to keep an eye on my sister for the length of a waltz.”
“I can’t believe that she would let her out of her sight. Henrietta must have walked off without alerting her.”
They had reached the hall. Catherine turned to John. “I will check the retiring room,” she said. “You should continue looking in the ballroom. She could be anywhere. I’ll meet you back here.”
He didn’t relinquish her arm.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m not seventeen at my first masquerade.”
“Be careful,” he said, in a low voice, and she nodded. Slowly, she made her way to the retiring room, having to wedge herself through the packed entryway to the one space designated just for ladies.
The retiring room itself was also extremely crowded. She looked for Henrietta’s green dress or light brown hair but didn’t see her. She snaked through the room, edging her way through two crying young ladies not much older than Henrietta, a gaggle of society matrons who had stationed themselves in front of the glass, and myriad women tying and retying stays, tapes, and sashes. No Henrietta. She was about to leave the room when she heard a snippet of conversation that rooted her to the spot.
“…and she is calling around now, looking for her, but from what I understand Mary doesn’t want to see her.”
“But why ever not?”
Catherine did not dare look up and see who was speaking, but she knew the voices belonged to the older ladies by the mirror. She froze, thinking they could not be discussing what she thought. Still, she pretended to adjust her stocking and continued listening.
“Well, she has apparently told Julia that she doesn’t wantanyoneto know where she is, and Julia is simply at a loss for what to do.”
“Whereisshe?”
“Julia won’t even tellmethat. I haven’t the slightest idea but I suspect it can’t be very far from here. Julia seemed to suggest that she had communicated with her recently.”
“No.Really?”
“Yes. And yet Mary knows her niece is looking for her and still does not want to be found.”
“How curious.”
“I know. I really shouldn’t say any more. Julia would set her hounds on me if she knew I was even speaking of it.”
At that, the other lady asked about the eligibility of one of the night’s bachelors, and the subject of this Mary and her niece was dropped. But Catherine had heard enough to turn her stomach for the second time that evening.
She moved to leave the room, casting a look back over her shoulder to see the identity of the ladies. There were two—the plump Mrs. Kinsey, in a yellow dress, and Lady Merton, in a turquoise gown, both of whom she had called on earlier that week to ask about her aunt.
For a second, every thought of Henrietta had left her head, but when she exited the retiring room, she remembered that the girl was missing. Her panic returned. She looked for John in the crowd and didn’t see him.
