The only thing left for her to do now was leave for London. Immediately, if possible. If she stopped for nothing but the occasional meal, she might make it back home by tomorrow evening. In time for her dear friend Thomas Hyatt to return home, and to make enquiries about this Arabella. Surely she would be able to discover something now she had a name and location.
And her memory had not entirely failed her: she had met the girl before. Then, she had been of a marriageable age, perhaps a year or two Louisa’s senior. It was likely, therefore, that she had left to go abroad up to five years after that first and last meeting.
Either way, she would have enough information to be able to convince Knight she knew more than she did, and to compel his obedience in the matter.
After explaining her plan to Caroline, she went straight to George’s dressing room, knocking and letting herself in. He was sitting before the fire in his robe with a book in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. Every inch the gentleman, but so engrossed in his novel that he didn’t so much as hear her come in until she cleared her throat.
“Louisa,” he said, brows rising. “This is an unexpected surprise.”
“I imagine it is.” She took the chair opposite. “I came to inform you that I’m leaving for London immediately.”
“Immediately?”
“Is that not what I said?”
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s almost midnight.”
“I’m aware of the time.”
He closed his book, one finger between the pages, and rose to ring the bellpull. “Explain it to me. Is this merely to avoid Eynsham?”
Ah, so he knew after all. She’d suspected he would, either from Henry or Caroline. “No.”
“Then why?” He gave the rope a hearty tug, and when his valet appeared, directed the man to fetch Lord Eynsham.
Louisa pushed out of her chair the instant the man left. “What do you think you’re playing at?”
“If you’re not avoiding Henry, then it makes sense you both travel together. I can spare one coach, but not more.”
“He intends to leave?”
“Were you unaware?” There was a wry note in his voice, and he patted her shoulder on his way back to his chair. “Sit down, my dear, and don’t make a cake out of yourself. I can’t have you travelling post alone without so much as a maid, and you know with this many guests I can spare no one to travel with you.”
Louisa slowly sank back into the armchair, but the injustice still stung. “I’m hardly a girl in my first Season; I can travel without a chaperone.”
“It’s not a matter of age. There are all sorts of cads and rogues on the road, and if they get wind of a lady travelling by herself—”
“Then I will defend myself,” she said sharply. “Do you think me helpless?”
“I think you reckless, my girl, and that’s just as bad.” He tapped his book against the arm of his chair. “If Henry will travel with you, there will be no need for this foolishness.”
“It’s not foolishness to have the expectation of independence. Why, do you think it’s my first time travelling alone?”
His lip curled. “No. But I have no intention of letting you do so from my home.”
“No one will know.”
“I will know.” He tossed back the rest of his brandy. “Drink?”
“For heaven’s sake, George, this is serious.” She eyed his back as he moved to the cabinet on the wall and said, impulsively, “Oh, very well, then. But I mean it when I say I would rather go alone.”
“Why? Because he was fool enough to ask for your hand in marriage?” George gave a bark of laughter and handed her a tumbler of amber liquid. “Rather him than me, I can say that for certain.”
“I’d be offended if I had any desire to marry you,” she said coolly.
“Oh, don’t give me that. There’s no denying he made a mistake, but—” A knock at the door interrupted him and he broke off. “There he is now.”
Louisa steeled herself for the sight of him. This was not a position she was precisely accustomed to. Of course, she had received an offer or two since Bolton died, but she had never felt as though their affections were engaged, and thus seeing them again held no particular awkwardness.
