“This is a fine kettle of fish,” Millie said after Hetty told her what had happened. “Well, there’s no hope for it. You must leave, Miss Hetty. I can’t imagine that the marquess is a stupid man. He is certain to recognize you, or at least wonder about you. And, knowing you, you couldn’t keep a civil tongue in your head where he is concerned. Lord, I can just see Miss Henrietta Rolland challenging him to a duel.”
“Of course you’re right,” Hetty said, only to whirl about when there came an urgent knock on the door.
“Hetty, Hetty, my dear.” It was Louisa. “Can’t I speak to you for just a moment?”
Hetty steeled herself. “I’m sorry, Louisa, but I must hurry. I mustn’t be late. Please, Louisa,” she added, a plea in her voice, “just leave me be. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Hetty heard her sister-in-law sigh deeply. She could easily picture the troubled, confused look on her face. She didn’t move or again speak, and, at last, she heard Louisa’s retreating footsteps down the corridor.
“Damn,” Hetty said. She saw the marquess as she’d seen him the previous night, Lord Harry’s insults cold and clear, not making a particular impact on him, damn him. Would he know her if he saw her as Henrietta Rolland? She knew, deep down, she knew that he would.
Millie said quite calmly, “If you don’t leave soon, you just might meet Lord Oberlon on the doorstep. That would be another fine kettle of fish.”
Ten minutes later, Hetty was clutching her cloak about her shoulders and peering outside her bedroom door. It appeared that Jack and Louisa were either in their room, or downstairs awaiting the marquess. She slipped quietly to the servants’ stairs and made her way quickly down to the side entrance, Millie following closely behind her. “You stay here,” Millie said, “I’ll fetch a hackney.” Millie disappeared around the corner and Hetty huddled back against the servants’ entrance until she heard the sound of carriage wheels drawing to a halt in front of the house.
“Psst! Come, Miss Hetty.”
Hetty slipped from her hiding place and hurried around the corner to a waiting hackney. “You take care, Miss Hetty. I’ll be waiting for you. It doesn’t matter what time it is. I’ll be here, just inside the servants’ entrance.”
Chapter Fourteen
Upon the arrival of the Marquess of Oberlon, Grimpston bowed lower than was his wont, indeed, lower than his stiff back normally allowed him to. He recognized the signal honor paid to Sir Archibald by the visit of such an exalted personage, and made haste to lead his grace to the drawing room.
“His grace, the Marquess of Oberlon,” he announced in a deep, rich voice. Both Sir John and Lady Louisa gave a guilty start, for he had been the subject of their conversation.
Louisa recovered herself quickly, jumping to her feet. “Jason, oh goodness. How very marvelous to see you again.”
“You are as beautiful as ever, Louisa,” he said in her ear as he swept her up in his arms. “When will you leave this oversized oaf and come away with me?”
Sir John looked benignly upon this scene, then stepped forward and clasped Jason Cavander’s hand in a strong grasp.
“Beautiful she may be, Jason, but you’d soon be back at my door begging me to take her back. It would look damned awkward, you know, prancing all over Europe with a pregnant lady in tow.”
“Good God,” the marquess said, holding Louisa back in the circle of his arms. He gave her a dazzling smile that revealed his strong white teeth. With his face deeply tanned from the harsh Italian sun, he looked so devastatingly handsome that Louisa thought Hetty must assuredly have lost her wits to have taken him into such strong dislike.
He added, “It would appear that I’m to be surrounded by pregnant ladies. Kate St. Clair is also breeding. Julien told me of it just this morning.”
“Yes, Hetty told us.” Louisa gave her husband a wild look and bit her tongue.
“Hetty?” he said, looking down at her, then over her head at Sir John.
“My little sister,” Sir John said shortly. “Ah, a glass of sherry, Jason?”