their cups.
But she was glad when the dance was over.
The marquess was dancing with Lady Jansen, a fact that made Mira cross. Lady Jansen had spread gossip. The marquess should ignore her, not dance with her as if she were the only woman in the room!
But she comforted herself with the thought of that outing tomorrow and then realized that if she was to pretend to be ill and have a headache, she should start pretending right away.
Mrs. Markham was sympathetic. She wanted to leave the ball herself, also anxious to get some sleep before such an indecently early start in the morning. Drusilla was glad to leave as well. She was disappointed in Charles. She expected adoration from him—uncritical adoration at all times.
Mira was glad to pretend she was feeling unwell because it saved making conversation on the road home. But when Mrs. Markham came to see her as she lay in bed and showed rare signs of motherly concern, Mira felt a pang of guilt but assured her mother if she could forgo the barge trip and have a quiet day in bed, then she would come about.
Mrs. Markham agreed, not only because she believed Mira to be ill but because she was increasingly worried about Lord Charles’s manner toward Drusilla and his evident growing interest in Mira. A romantic day on the river was just what Charles and Drusilla needed.
As soon as her mother had left, Mira got out of bed and searched in a trunk at the bottom of the press, where she had hidden the riding clothes. She would lock the door and take the key when she left, just to be safe.
She slept and woke and slept and woke, listening all the time to the harsh voice of the watchman marking off the hours.
Then she heard the house come awake and Drusilla’s voice raised in complaint as she berated the maid. Mrs. Markham came in, dressed for the expedition. Mira pretended to be asleep and lay with her eyes closed until her mother had left. Then she got out of bed, washed, dressed in the riding clothes, and sat down in front of the mirror on the toilet table to tie her cravat. It was rather tired-looking, not having been laundered or starched since the last time she had worn it.
Mr. Diggs was at his post in St. James’s Square early the following morning. He had been excited by the footman’s news that the marquess was prepared to let a gambling debt of five thousand pounds go in order to secure a dance with Miss Mira. He debated whether to watch the marquess’s house and then decided on the Markhams’. He knew of the barge expedition and planned to follow the family party on horseback to London Bridge and then ride to Hampton Court and study them there.
He saw Lord Charles arriving, the carriage being brought round, and then the Markhams and Lord Charles setting out. His eyes sharpened. No Mira. As they drove off, he wondered whether to follow them but decided to wait. Perhaps Mira was going to use this opportunity to slip off and see her lover.
He was just wondering whether he ought to go and try to question one of the servants when the front door opened and a slim youth scampered down the stairs. It was only when the “youth” reached the corner of the square and turned and looked cautiously back that he saw those green eyes. He had nearly missed her. Lady Jansen said she had been dressed as a boy in Covent Garden.
He swung up into the saddle and began to follow her.
At Hyde Park Corner he saw with a feeling of triumph the tall figure of the Marquess of Grantley standing beside the toll holding two horses. He eyed those horses. They were magnificent, but the marquess surely would not drive them hard along the gravel surface of the Great West Road, if that was the way he meant to go.
He saw the way the couple greeted each other like conspirators, and then Mira sprang nimbly up on the back of the Arab.
Mr. Diggs set off in pursuit, glad that they were taking an easy pace. But after Knightsbridge, the
But she was glad when the dance was over.
The marquess was dancing with Lady Jansen, a fact that made Mira cross. Lady Jansen had spread gossip. The marquess should ignore her, not dance with her as if she were the only woman in the room!
But she comforted herself with the thought of that outing tomorrow and then realized that if she was to pretend to be ill and have a headache, she should start pretending right away.
Mrs. Markham was sympathetic. She wanted to leave the ball herself, also anxious to get some sleep before such an indecently early start in the morning. Drusilla was glad to leave as well. She was disappointed in Charles. She expected adoration from him—uncritical adoration at all times.
Mira was glad to pretend she was feeling unwell because it saved making conversation on the road home. But when Mrs. Markham came to see her as she lay in bed and showed rare signs of motherly concern, Mira felt a pang of guilt but assured her mother if she could forgo the barge trip and have a quiet day in bed, then she would come about.
Mrs. Markham agreed, not only because she believed Mira to be ill but because she was increasingly worried about Lord Charles’s manner toward Drusilla and his evident growing interest in Mira. A romantic day on the river was just what Charles and Drusilla needed.
As soon as her mother had left, Mira got out of bed and searched in a trunk at the bottom of the press, where she had hidden the riding clothes. She would lock the door and take the key when she left, just to be safe.
She slept and woke and slept and woke, listening all the time to the harsh voice of the watchman marking off the hours.
Then she heard the house come awake and Drusilla’s voice raised in complaint as she berated the maid. Mrs. Markham came in, dressed for the expedition. Mira pretended to be asleep and lay with her eyes closed until her mother had left. Then she got out of bed, washed, dressed in the riding clothes, and sat down in front of the mirror on the toilet table to tie her cravat. It was rather tired-looking, not having been laundered or starched since the last time she had worn it.
Mr. Diggs was at his post in St. James’s Square early the following morning. He had been excited by the footman’s news that the marquess was prepared to let a gambling debt of five thousand pounds go in order to secure a dance with Miss Mira. He debated whether to watch the marquess’s house and then decided on the Markhams’. He knew of the barge expedition and planned to follow the family party on horseback to London Bridge and then ride to Hampton Court and study them there.
He saw Lord Charles arriving, the carriage being brought round, and then the Markhams and Lord Charles setting out. His eyes sharpened. No Mira. As they drove off, he wondered whether to follow them but decided to wait. Perhaps Mira was going to use this opportunity to slip off and see her lover.
He was just wondering whether he ought to go and try to question one of the servants when the front door opened and a slim youth scampered down the stairs. It was only when the “youth” reached the corner of the square and turned and looked cautiously back that he saw those green eyes. He had nearly missed her. Lady Jansen said she had been dressed as a boy in Covent Garden.
He swung up into the saddle and began to follow her.
At Hyde Park Corner he saw with a feeling of triumph the tall figure of the Marquess of Grantley standing beside the toll holding two horses. He eyed those horses. They were magnificent, but the marquess surely would not drive them hard along the gravel surface of the Great West Road, if that was the way he meant to go.
He saw the way the couple greeted each other like conspirators, and then Mira sprang nimbly up on the back of the Arab.
Mr. Diggs set off in pursuit, glad that they were taking an easy pace. But after Knightsbridge, the
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