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Charlotte ran over the cobbles, feeling vulnerable in a world with neither companion nor chaperone beside her. Honour the purpose, she exhorted herself. Looking up, she saw the almost-full moon hanging low in the sky, her guide as she reached Grosvenor Square. Here the mansions of the rich still appeared to be slumbering, dark and shuttered as she sped on towards Audley Street, the great moon still lighting her way. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she slowed her pace to a purposeful walk, keeping close to the railings, slipping in and out of the shadows.

Ahead of her was a dark coach, with a team of four horses, restive in their traces. A man in his long coat stood in the road, alert; Charlotte saw his teeth gleam and knew at once it was Captain Ormonde. They did not embrace. He had promised her he was a gentleman and would not importune her before they had married. Instead, he took her arm. ‘Miss Blythe, I’m glad that you have come. You told no one?’ She shook her head and he handed her into the carriage. They set off immediately at quite a pace.

Sitting on opposite seats, Charlotte glanced across at Guy Ormonde. His handsome face was brooding, his body tense. He seemed anxious as he glanced at his pocket watch and rapped on the roof to urge the coachman to go faster. For the first time Charlotte realised he was risking his career in the military and the heavy hand of civil law for abducting an underage woman.

This realisation gave Charlotte courage. Like her father, she was behind enemy lines to gain essential information. Valour was in her blood and she was determined to embody it. She sat across from Captain Ormonde and wondered where he had stowed the precious piece of paper. His redingote was double-breasted and tightly buttoned across his chest and he seemed disinclined to relinquish it. Beneath, she suspected his fine-tailored coat had many inside pockets, but he would only remove that when he went to bed at night. She noticed he was watching her with narrowed eyes. ‘Are you regretting your decision?’ he asked with a sly smile.

Charlotte was uncomfortable under such close scrutiny and turned to look out the window at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, busy even at this early hour with cleaners bustling in with their pails and mops, as the horses toiled up the hill to The Angel Inn at Islington. ‘No, I’m not regretting anything, apart from deceiving Miss Appleby.’

‘Well, we have four days’ travel before we arrive at the Borderlands, so I hope you allow yourself to relax more than this. We could play whist?’

‘I have my book.’ Charlotte withdrew the third volume of The Heroine from her reticule and made an attempt to look more settled by sitting in the corner by the window.

‘I hope that novel’s not putting ideas into your head.’ He smirked. ‘You know, I like you, Miss Blythe. And you’re certainly pretty enough to love. I think you’ll make an excellent wife, and I shall contrive to be a good husband to you in return.’

‘How much that warms my heart to hear, Captain Ormonde,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm. He flashed one of his charming smiles and Charlotte realised his anxiety had receded as they left London behind. He settled back in his seat and tipped his hat over his nose as if he intended to sleep. ‘Oh, by the way, don’t forget we are travelling as brother and sister. We’ll change horses at Barnet; you can get out at the inn there and have a cup of hot chocolate and a bun, if you wish.’

It was seven in the morning and Leonora was still deeply asleep when she was roused from her dreams by an urgent rap on the door. ‘Come in!’ she called out in a drowsy voice.

Flora entered the room and even half-asleep, Leonora recognised she was distraught. ‘Miss Leonora, my apologies for waking you but Miss Charlotte has gone!’

Leonora sprang upright, all lassitude fled. ‘What do you mean, gone?’

‘Her room’s empty and her portmanteau and a few gowns and under-garments are missing, one of her bonnets too.’ The maid stood before Leonora, her hands tightly clasped together, her voice hollow. ‘I feared this would happen. I should have slept in her room and stopped her!’

Leonora was out of bed and grasped Flora’s arms so that she had to meet her eyes. ‘What did you fear would happen?’

‘That she would listen to the blandishments of the Captain and run away with him to Scotland to get married.’ Flora had tears in her eyes and was trying to hide her face. ‘He seemed to put her under some duress. He showed her a piece of paper when we went to the museum.’ She walked towards the window and busied herself with the curtains while her shoulders heaved.

Leonora’s tumultuous feelings as to what to do next were quelled by a thought so obvious it reverberated in her brain like a clarion. ‘Flora, you’re Charlotte’s mother, are you not?’ Her words seemed to shock both women. For a moment time had stilled as Flora stood motionless. Slowly she turned, her face aged with grief. The answer was clear to Leonora. She realised the full poignancy of a young woman, really only a girl, forced to give her baby away, never to see her or contact her again. Leonora could only put out her arms and Flora crumpled into them. When she had stopped shaking with sobs, Leonora asked her, ‘Does she know?’

‘No. I’m afraid of her knowing.’

‘But she’ll be so happy to understand who her mother is after eighteen years of wondering. Do not be afraid.’

‘Would you tell her, Miss Appleby? I would prefer that, if you could.’ Leonora nodded. ‘Did you marry, Flora? Has your life been good?’

She nodded. ‘I’m married to a good man, Jack Lacey; he’s a gardener for Lady Dundas.’

‘I’m glad, as will be Charlotte.’

Reeling as she was with Flora’s news, unable yet to think of the ramifications, Leonora was overcome with the urgency of saving Charlotte from her fate. ‘I must get dressed immediately. We have to be discreet, and certainly cannot tell Lady Bucklebury of Charlotte’s disappearance. But I will go to Grosvenor Square to Lord Rokeby who will know what to do. He’s her uncle after all.’

Flora’s ashen face turned even paler. ‘Amy’s back to her duties. Shall I ask her to accompany you? After breakfast I must return to Lady Dundas.’

‘I’m glad Amy has recovered but we’ll miss you, Flora, now more than ever. And I promise when the time’s right, I’ll tell Charlotte. But most urgent is to stop the scandal of her possible elopement. Can you ask Amy to meet me in the hall in ten minutes?’

Leonora dressed in yesterday’s morning gown, quickly plaited her hair and coiled it under her bonnet. She had no time to waste. As she ran down the stairs carrying her shoes, the household was still quiet, except for the murmur of voices from the kitchen. Amy arrived looking pale and flustered. ‘Good morning, Amy. I’m so glad you’re better. We have to hurry, and to take care we keep this to ourselves.’ She looked sternly at the maid’s flushing face.

‘Yes, Miss Appleby. Haven’t said nowt to nobody.’ Leonora nodded in approval as they slipped out the door into a different bustling world. She led Amy, threading their way through the delivery carts, and soon they were outside the Rokeby establishment in Grosvenor Square. The shutters were closed and it looked uncared for and unwelcoming. Leonora knew no gentleman could be visited before eleven in the morning, and even that was too early for most. This was the uncouth hour of half past seven when only working people were up, but fear and urgency gave Leonora the temerity to knock on the front door.

She was about to knock again when it swung open to reveal a diminutive housemaid who bobbed a curtsey. ‘Could you tell your master Miss Appleby is here to see him? It’s a matter of urgency.’

The girl looked doubtful. ‘His lordship don’t like to be disturbed, specially not this early.’

Leonora felt her chest tighten with anxiety; time was of the essence. ‘This is a matter of life and death,’ she said with some asperity. She was gratified to see the young girl’s eyes widen as she indicated they could wait in the front morning room while she went in search of his lordship’s valet. Leonora knew it took hours for most gentlemen to dress and half an hour would be just about sufficient for a slapdash presentation. She was amazed that within ten minutes, the door opened and Alistair Rokeby came into the room followed by Achille. Given that their last meeting had been fractious, Leonora was gratified to see him looking concerned, but also really quite pleased to see her. He was fully dressed, his snowy cravat tied to a passable standard and only his hair still damp and tousled, showing the speed of his dressing.

Leonora looked up, startled and immediately shy. She found his physical presence distracting. ‘I didn’t expect you so soon, my lord. Apologies for this early intrusion.’