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Elena was chilled to the bone, and this fog was making her feel dizzy and disoriented. She stepped out onto what looked like a main road. She headed towards a dim light in the distance. The more she walked, the more she could see and hear. Music and the sound of many voices. A ball maybe? Out of the fog came a large black shadow. A carriage and she had to jump out of its way before it barreled her down. She had to be careful and stepped to the side until she found a wall and used that as a guide to keep her off the street. More carriages rattled past her, but none of them stopped, even though she shouted, stop. Finally, she saw where the noise had been coming from. The opera house at Covent Garden. She recognized the many arches on the façade that Lucinda had pointed out. She made a run for the entry, and when she reached it, it was to find them closing the doors. She banged on the doors crying, “Let me in, please. Let me in.”

Finally, one door opened. “What do you want?”

She was so relieved she tried to tell him in French how she had become lost. When he looked at her like a loon, she tried to think of the English words, but none would come to her. She started to get frantic, talking in a combination of French and Spanish all at once. The man closed the door.

She sat on the steps. This was it, she thought. I will die on these steps from the cold and never see Tomas again, and it will all be because of a lie. She had intended to show him the papers eventually, but then she had forgotten about them until Tomas mentioned them at dinner.

“You can’t stay here, luv. You need to move on.”

Her head shot up at the voice. She didn’t understand what he had said. She tried to talk again in French, but the big burly man just raised a brow at her. Then she tried Spanish, and this got her a frown. “Please,” she said in English. Then, “the Duke Warrington.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Are you related?”

Elena nodded, even though she was not sure what he meant.

“I better take you there then. It’s going to be tricky due to this infernal fog but he’s not far from here.”

Again, Elena simply nodded, and when he tugged her to her feet and threw her on top of his horse, she froze. Was he taking her to the duke or somewhere else? “Warrington,” she said again.

“Yes, yes, I heard you.”

Elena sighed with relief. She understood the word “yes.” All the muscles in her body were heavy with tension and fatigue. Could she have found an unlikely savior in this hulk of a man?

The man took his time, walking slowly and keeping his small lantern close to the ground so he ensured he did not trip on something, she supposed. It felt like hours, but finally, he stopped. Helped her off her horse and led her around the side of the house.

He knocked on the door. A few minutes later, a footman opened the door.

“What’s this all about?” the footman asked.

“This woman says she is the duke’s relative.”

“The duke’s what?”

“Maybe his mistress? I think she may be an actress or singer from the opera.”

The footman shook his head. “I am not aware of a mistress, and I doubt he would keep a Covent Garden floozy.”

“Lord Ashton,” Elena said. “Lucinda. Tomas Markham.”

The footman looked her up and down; was he noting the quality of her dress? “Just a moment.” Then he disappeared back into the house. A few minutes later, an older man came to the door.

“I am the duke’s butler, what can I do for you young lady.”

“Tomas Markham. Wife.”

“Captain Thomas Markham?”

“Yes. Wife,” Elena said, pointing to herself.

“Have you got yourself into some kind of trouble?”

“Yes, lost,” she explained as best she could in French.

“Ah, yes, we heard he had married. I believe he is staying with Lord Ashton in Mayfair, but goodness, why did you go out in the fog?”

“Does it really matter?” the watchman asked. “Can you take her? I’ve got to get back to my spot,” the watchman said, irritation in his voice.