“Thank you.”
As Jason stalked the now empty salon, Lizzie hurried from the dressing room in her wrap. “Jason! What has happened?”
He quickly explained and told her to go home as soon as she could and stay there. “I shall endeavor to return in time to escort you to the ball.”
She placed a hand on Jason’s arm, her eyes dark. “Oh, Jason. You must want to see Lady Helen tonight. This is all my fault. You will take care, won’t you?”
“None of this is your fault, Lizzie. There’s nothing to fear. I have an able-bodied runner with me.”
He joined Dalby, and they rode through the London streets. “It rained heavily during the night,” Jason said. “The muddy roads might slow the carriage up.”
Dalby nodded. “We’ll get ’em, yer lordship.”
“I want to bring them back alive, Dalby,” Jason called before taking advantage of the clear stretch ahead. He squeezed his horse’s flanks, urging Icarus into a gallop.
“Right you are,” Dalby replied as he rode alongside him. “Providing they come peaceable like.”
Chapter Eighteen
“By God, you have sired a pair of beauties, Kinsey!” Lord Nicholas smiled at Helen and Diana as he stood at the ballroom door with their parents to receive the first of the guests. Helen curtseyed, and Diana, giggling, followed suit. One could always count on Uncle Nicholas for his support. His kind words were appreciated, but it was Diana’s beauty that would eclipse every young woman here tonight. Diana hadn’t wished to wear white, but the silk sheath clung to her tall elegant figure and was the perfect foil for her fresh beauty, setting off her copper ringlets caught up with satin ribbon and silk rosebuds.
As Fiske announced the guests, Helen searched for Peyton. By ten o’clock, the last guests had arrived, and the doors were closed. The ballroom was packed with people, the crystal chandelier showering a myriad of dancing lights upon the convivial crowd. As she walked through the room, she caught snatches of conversation about George IV’s coronation which was to be held in July, and how Queen Caroline was prevented from attending.
Pleased not to be the subject of gossipers, Helen took note that the hired waiters were doing as instructed, threading their way through the guests with trays bearing glasses of brandy and claret punch. The Master of Ceremonies announced a quadrille, and the orchestra sprang to life on the dais.
A large group of gentlemen immediately converged on Diana. She gracefully accepted a young marquess’ son who had been introduced to her moments before. Helen caught her mother’s eye and smiled. She turned to where Fiske stood alone at the door. Peyton had not come. It didn’t surprise her; she’d been very convincing in her refusal of his proposal. If only she’d convinced herself! Was it possible for a heart to actually ache?
A distant cousin of her mother’s, newly widowed, approached Helen, and forcing a smile, she took his arm. Tonight was Diana’s, and she must never allow her misery to become obvious.
An hour later, Helen entered the supper room to ensure that everything was in readiness for the guests. Tempting aromas wafted through the room. The white-linen-covered tables were laden with delectable hot and cold dishes; a tureen of white soup, collared beef, artichoke hearts, silver salvers of lobster, pyramids of crayfish, and sandwiches. Luscious trifles and sweet meats sat amid fine crystal and china, sparkling silverware, and silver urns of decorative fruits and flowers. Gilt chairs lined the walls for the guests, and servants stood ready to serve them claret, champagne, sherry, hock, or port.
Helen went in search of her parents, only to find Peyton talking to them, his dark good looks set off to perfection by his midnight black evening clothes and sparkling white cravat. His sister, the dark-haired Lady Greywood, stood beside him dressed in deep violet, with a handsome young gentleman of similar coloring who must be Charlie.
Helen stood for a moment unsure whether to join them. Aware she blushed, she tried to tamp down her delight at finding him here. Peyton’s eyes lifted to hers. He sent her a special smile as if they shared a secret. She returned his smile with a shy one of her own but had no idea what she would say to him; she was just so very glad to see him. She began to make her way through the groups of chatting people.
Peyton bowed over her hand. “Lady Helen. I believe you know my sister?”
“I do. Lady Greywood, how delightful to see you again.”
“And you, Lady Helen.”
“I should like to introduce you to my brother, Viscount Brinkley,” Peyton said.
Charles bowed before her. His charming smile would interest the ladies.
“I must apologize. We are unforgivably late.” Lizzie fiddled with her fan, her eyes shadowed. “My brother has only just returned to London.”
“You were called away, my lord?” Helen asked.
“Yes. Unexpectedly.” He held out his arm. “The musicians are about to play, Lady Helen. I believe you promised me a waltz?”
They joined the swirling dancers. Helen slipped into his arms, feeling as if she belonged there.
“Lizzie’s suitor turned out to be a rogue,” Peyton explained. “An imposter who forged and sold art.” He reversed her expertly in a swift turn.
Helen gained her breath, only to lose it again when she met his intense green eyes. “That is a dreadful shame. Lady Greywood did appear downhearted.” What had occurred earlier in the evening? Had Peyton come into danger? Would he tell her if he had? “You went to apprehend him?”
“It was necessary to bring the fellow to justice. Lizzie is disappointed naturally but also greatly relieved to have discovered the truth in time. A Bow Street runner and I caught up with them on their way to Liverpool.” He smiled down at her “But that’s a story for another time.” His eyes softened. “You look lovely tonight. You should wear that color often. In fact, I rather fancy picking a posy of lilacs for you in the woods at Peyton Grove.”
