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“Are you sure you will you be alright?”

“Of course I will,” she replied.

And then Cassie was there. “You looked like you could use support, dearest.”

Lenora sent the gentlest and most loving of her sisters a grateful smile. “All the excitement has made me tired,” she lied.

Heartache had made her tired. Heartache and a deep weariness she’d been carrying in her bones since she and Asquith had parted.

“How is Lady Asquith?” she asked.

“She says she has fully recovered but feels too tired to endure the heat. After a brief discussion, we all decided to end the night early as well. Do you mind?”

“Not in the least.” That much she could truthfully offer.

“Adrian has gone off in a hackney to fetch his doctor to Asquith House. Eliza and Millie are waiting in Harbury’s carriage a little way down the street. Harbury, Daughtry, and Asquith are bundling Godmama into her barouche.”

“Asquith the dutiful,” Lenora remarked dryly.

Cassie glanced askance. Lenora pretended she hadn’t seen. Together, they descended the stairs to King Street.

“You do not appear well,” Cassie remarked.

Harbury sauntered over. “I agree, my love. Were you, too, affected by the heat, Lenora?”

Lenora nodded, though her focus remained on Asquith, little more than fifty yards away.

“Asquith!” Harbury called.

Asquith heeded the greeting and started toward them, igniting a rapid thumping in Lenora’s heart.

“Would you mind standing by the rail with Lenora?” Harbury asked. “She’s dead on her feet. The duchess and I will fetch my carriage, so she doesn’t have to walk.”

“Excellent idea,” Cassie said, and then took Harbury’s arm. “After the heat inside, I should like to stretch my legs.” As Asquith approached, she added, “Do take care of her, Asquith.”

Lenora glanced heavenward.

Reunited at last. And all she felt was cold, sick, and tired. She leaned back against the rails. They felt like prison bars against her back.

“I must speak with you.” His voice sent shivers down her spine.

She kept her eyes fixed on a distant streetlamp.

“Please,” he whispered.

Heart twisted. She’d never heard him say that word. Ever.

“I don’t see why you wish to speak with me now,” she said. “I’ve been in London for a week, and you haven’t come to call.”

“Your letters gave no hint you wanted me to call.”

What kind of justification was that? “Why should I have had to spell out my sentiments? I have never faltered. My feelings had not changed.” But those feelings now churned, pounded, and tasted metallic.

“Have they changed now?” he asked.

She could not believe he asked. Was he trying to justify his own change of heart?

She turned. His face was an iron mask without a hint of emotion. Well, she would not show any either.