Page 54 of The Sprinter
As he bowed, the visor of his helmet slipped over his eyes and Grace could not be sorry to witness his consternation over it.
He pushed it back up on his forehead and glared at Lord Lymington as if he would say something about it.
The lord only handed back her card and hurried away.
“May I?” Lord Gresham asked.
Why? Why would he wish to put himself down on her card? Was there another lecture he felt driven to communicate? Perhaps he would attempt to sprain her ankleforher so she could not dance? Or perhaps he wished to remind her that she was naïve and he was twenty-six?
Fortunately, he would not have the opportunity to do any of those things. Her card was full.
“I am entirely engaged, Lord Gresham,” she said cheerfully.
“Entirely?” he said, practically snatching the card from her hands. As he examined the list, his frown grew ever deeper. “Lymington? Get ready to hear about his horses, and then his horses again. Blackwood and that stupid dog. Glendower? He’s meant to be in Scotland. What’s he doingheretaking anybody into supper?”
Grace did not think there was a required answer to any of those remarks and merely stood waiting to be returned her card.
To her left, Lady Featherstone had sailed back into the crowd, her rather long train trailing behind her and tripping up footmen.
Lady Heathway turned back to them. “Ah, there you are, George. Smashing costume. By the by, Lady Featherstone is convinced she can feel the Empress of Russia’s spirit through the emerald. I believe we may expect further lunatic ideas in our future.”
*
Jacobs was well-satisfiedwith his plan. Jenny had done her part and delivered him what he’d asked for. He’d gone to Kent to gather certain needed information—who lived in the neighborhood, and what sort of liveries did they employ. The details needed to be right to lend the necessary verisimilitude to the plan and he had got all he needed.
He had come in a costume that covered him head to toe and had passed himself off as Lord Glendower. It had been the perfect choice. Glendower had not been in Town for two seasons so who would even remember what his voice sounded like? They’d remember his accent though, that long O that Jacobs recalled when he’d drunk brandy with Glendower at the club all those years ago. He’d since called in a stable hand who hailed from Edinburgh and spent hours talking with the lad to pick up the pronunciation and cadence. He thought if he said little and moved off quickly he could pass it off, and he had done. He’d got past Lady Tredwell with alacrity, claiming a sudden stomach complaint. Whatever she’d thought ofthat, she hadn’t dared hold him up on his way to relieving himself.
But most importantly, he’d secured Miss Yardley’s supper. That had been the lynchpin of the entire operation. Only he could give her the long lead time necessary before raising the alarm.
Now, he must only do two things: first, he must take himself out to the balcony and find some quiet little corner so he was not observed or engaged in conversation. If word went round that Glendower was back in Town there might be no end of people who wished to renew the acquaintance. Second, and he had not considered it until just now, he had to keep his eye on Gresham, who seemed to be keeping a close eye on Miss Yardley. He could not allow Gresham to interfere until the plan was well underway. Then, the fellow could do what he liked.
In a day or two, the invitations would begin to flow again and he could take back his rightful place. As for Miss Yardley, she could spend the rest of her days hanging off drainpipes for all he cared.
*
As soon asLady Heathway and Miss Yardley had left the house, Ranston had felt his blood bubbling around like it did when he was in a state of nerves. On other nights, a few drops of brandy had worked wonderfully to settle him. That was, until that recent night whentoomany drops had worked a bittoowonderfully and he’d woken in the morning on Lady Heathway’s drawing room floor. There had been no hope that particular misstep had gone unnoticed, as he’d been covered in a blanket and had a pillow under his head. It had taken a full day of tea and buttered toast to get back on his feet again.
Lady Heathway had since locked the brandy decanter in a cabinet, though it did not appear that she’d told Lord Heathway why he was to need a key to get at his own brandy. It seemed the lord was under the impression that it might be one of the maids who’d developed an unfortunate habit.
Well, he supposed he could not be entirely opposed to the lock and key, as it at least stopped the diabolical Jenny from helping herself to it. He would have to do something about her soon. He hated having to do things about people! Why could they not just go away when they were not wanted?
He did not know what the girl had stolen from the house and sold off, but she suddenly seemed to have quite a lot of money about her person. She had even gone so far as to buy herself an alarming purple bonnet sprouting a criminal number of silk daisies that she put on for any and all reasons. It was like she was taunting him with it. He was also perfectly well aware that she periodically fell behind the counter as some kind of joke against him. He’d explained to the staff that he’d ended up asleep on the drawing room floor because he had a fainting seizure. Was she mocking seizures?
Now, he’d been left to guard the house again. He’d wondered what he could do to soothe his frazzled nerves now that the brandy had fled. He realized he would have to think ofsomethingwhen Gregory had come up behind him, silent as a cat, and scared the wits from him. He’d clutched at his heart to start it beating again and very much wished to go for a lie-down, but he could not! It was his duty to lead the battle against any invaders, should there be invaders and an ensuing battle.
Then it came to him. He remembered that he had a draught stored away that had given him a calm and fuzzy feeling the last time he’d been in bed with a cold.
He’d dug it out of his medicine case and drained the bottle, as he felt he must stay very calm. Now he was feeling a good deal better, other than finding it a bit of a challenge to keep his eyes open.
He paused in the drawing room to listen for unusual sounds. As he assessed the regular household noises, he widened his eyes in an attempt to keep his eyelids up where they were supposed to be. He noticed that the fireplace seemed to be gently swaying to and fro, which seemed a very un-fireplace-like thing to do. The chandelier was just now sliding sideways along the ceiling. Then, interestingly, the carpet decided to race toward his face at a surprising speed. He felt it crash into him rather violently and he wondered what the carpet was doing, flying around like that. It seemed rather funny.
Very faintly, as if from a long distance away, he heard Gregory say, “He’s down again. We’d better get a blanket and pillow.”
*
George cursed hiscostume. He would have been much better off in a domino. He could have pulled his hood low and nobody would know which direction he was looking. He needed to be looking at Miss Yardley at all times, as he did not know if some fellow might decide the masque would be the right time to declare himself. If he saw even a hint of it, he’d have to launch himself between them and declare first.
Oh yes, he was very decided on that. After drinking his way through half a decanter of brandy the night before, he’d resolved to do it. He’d thought he’d need another season to absolutely decide, but that was before she’d told him she would accept the first offer thrown at her. Once that bit of information had sunk in, he’d realized he had no time to waste. He’d realized he could not bear for Miss Yardley to marry another.
