Mr. Hartley bowed. “It’s been a pleasure and an education, Lady Henrietta.”
They left Mr. Hartley behind to canter through the park. “Was I so very terrible, Papa?”
“You behaved abominably,” he said, “Have you forgotten your mother was born in France?”
“Of course not,” she said passionately. “It is only the Republic I despise, not the people.” Henrietta could never forget French blood ran in her veins.
“However, that’s not the reason for my haste. Your aunt sent me a message. A letter has come from Philippe.”
Henrietta gasped with relief. “Is he, all right?”
Her father’s expression offered little reassurance. “That’s what I need to learn.”
* * *
Verity rode to join the group of riders she came with, grouped together in conversation at the park gate. An unusual mix of people gathered within the shadow of the demimonde. Poets, writers, painters, musicians, actors, and courtesans, mingled with members of the aristocracy and even royalty. Some actresses did well for themselves. Many did not. Could she now live as they did? Her chest tightened. When this business was at an end, she would retire to the countryside of her beloved France with her father and hopefully be left in peace. But that lay far in the future.
She wished she could silence the heart-stopping panic she suffered for the men in her life. If she failed to deliver Anthony to Danton, she and her father would both go to the guillotine. She gave a heavy sigh as she trotted her horse up to the gate. Each moment she spent with Anthony only made her like him more. But for her father’s plight, she might stay in London and become his mistress. To remain close to him, she would truly consider it. A liaison of this kind was something the members of the theatre world understood; an arrangement to suit both parties. But even though she was now truly one of them, the very idea was abhorrent.
“Here at last is mademoiselle,” Mrs. Siddens called from her brougham, her eyes flashing beneath the brim of her strikingly tall hat. “We can now begin our party!”
She put a hand to her waist and leaned forward as Verity joined them. “Do tell, who was that extremely attractive man I saw you riding with?”
“Lord Beaumont.”
“The viscount?” She gave Verity a ribald wink. “Doing all right for yourself there, duckie.”
