It would, she knew. She was letting her father down most dreadfully. But he did want her to give up her life. It wasn’t fair. When he learned the reason, he might forgive her, although she wasn’t confident of it. “I’ll explain that I’m with you. He won’t worry.”
“Not initially, perhaps. Then again, he might send someone after us.”
“I don’t think he will because after all, I am of age.” She’d given it some thought. “Father will be concerned about my reputation.”
He frowned. “That is something about which I am also concerned. And I’m surprised that you are not.”
She couldn’t afford to be. Her father was not to learn about Cathleen until she stood before him. Then she was sure that his good heart would triumph. “But no one will know except our parents.”
She gazed into his serious, brown eyes. Did he consider her very bad? He surely wouldn’t want to marry such a dreadful person. A very tall, dreadful person. Well, the answer to that was he didn’t.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes rash actions can come back and bite us.”
“And sometimes they can change one’s life for the better.”
He drew in a breath. “Right. I see your mind is made up. I shall wait in the lane behind your townhouse tomorrow at nine o’clock.”
She smiled, trying not to rub the goosebumps on her arms. Any sign of weakness and she knew Harry would call a halt. “I’ll be there. Thank you, Harry.”
When her maid arrived clutching a bunch of violets, he stood and bowed. “Always happy to please a lady.”
Erina watched him walk away. Her gratitude knew no bounds. He would want nothing from her, surely? She found she trusted Harry, although why she did when she didn’t know him well, escaped her. Erina turned to the small, brown-haired maid. “Tilly, the violets are for you.”
Tilly flushed. “Oh, Lady Erina, thank you.” She held them to her nose. “They smell so sweet.”
“Yes, well, it’s better you know nothing of my plans. Once I’m gone…”
Tilly’s eyes widened. “Gone, Lady Erina?”
Erina waved her hand to silence her. “If my father should question you, you can tell him honestly that I did not confide in you. Do you understand?”
The maid gasped. “Yes, Lady Erina. But he won’t hand me mynotice, will he?”
“He will not. And as you are not my lady’s maid, I doubt he’ll think to ask you. In any event,” she added kindly. “I shall write to ensure you are not blamed.”
Chapter Seven
In the salonafter a sumptuous dinner that only Jack seemed to enjoy, he gently questioned Lady Butterstone. She clamped her lips and refused to discuss her husband’s work in France. Despite his dying declaration, Lord Butterstone had clearly been incapable of error in her eyes. “Butterstone was an exemplary diplomat.” In her black bombazine gown, she fingered the black pearls at her throat, her face tight and defensive. “My daughter believes you can help us, Captain Ryder. I have yet to be convinced of it.”
“You might consider employing a Bow Street Runner, my lady.” Jack eased his shoulders in a coat uncomfortably too small for him. It would be a wise decision and would allow him to continue on his way.
Her dove-gray eyes would once have been as beautiful as her daughter’s. But now they were clouded with grief and doubt. “I prefer not to.”
Lady Althea patted her mother’s hand. “I should like Captain Ryder to stay, Mama.” She turned to him. “If you can spare us a few more days.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to.” Jack wished she didn’t look so beautiful in blue satin. The gown was molded to the curves of her body in such a way that… He should leave—mention an appointment he must keep. But he knew he wouldn’t as he swallowed the last mouthful of cognac and put down the snifter. “However, without anything to go on, I doubt I can be of help to you. I’ll leave if Lady Butterstone wishes.”
Lady Althea looked imploringly at her mother.
Her mother drew a lacy shawl around her shoulders, her face ravaged by grief. “My husband’s luggage has been taken up to his bedchamber. You’ll find his correspondence in the library. Perhaps his letters will reveal something important. And when your father’s secretary arrives, Althea, I shall ask him to examine them.”
Lady Althea stood. “Then we shall go to the library and peruse them.”
“Should your mother wish it,” Jack said, pushing back his chair and rising.
“I prefer his secretary to deal with it. I… I’m… not sure that John would have approved of you reading his letters, Captain Ryder,” her ladyship stuttered.
Her daughter was already walking to the door. “Father has gone, Mama. And he did ask for Captain Ryder’s help.”
