Lord Monteith suddenly came into view astride his bay mare, leading her mare, Coquette. She pulled quickly back from the window and schooled her features into a welcoming smile. Perhaps his grace would come visiting while she was out with Lord Monteith. She shrugged an elegant shoulder. Well, if he did come, Jenny could simply inform him that Melissande was otherwise occupied. Should she have Jenny tell the marquess with whom she was otherwise occupied? Such a disclosure bothered her. She didn’t want Lord Oberlon to blow out Lord Harry’s brains. He was too pleasant a young gentleman to be dead.
“Ah, my dear sir,” she greeted Lord Monteith. “How kind of you to escort me again today.”
As Hetty was becoming more adept at her constantly shifting roles, she managed to greet Melissande with a soulful sigh and a profound look of admiration. “You have but to command me, my fair Melissande.” She tenderly brought Melissande’s white hand to her lips and kissed the soft skin. It tasted of jasmine. Very nice. “It is, of course, my good fortune to find you unoccupied. What a shame though to find you so much alone. And on such an excellent day. Not a single rain cloud in the sky. Ah, did I say something that upsets you, Melissande?”
Hetty wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. She’d just scored a major point. If nothing else, Melissande would be in a god-awful snit the next time she saw Lord Oberlon. Come to think of it, Melissande did deserve a bit more attention, didn’t she? Surely she was expensive. She realized then that a mistress was dependent upon her protector for all her needs. That of course wouldn’t advance Lord Harry’s goal. She wouldn’t dare ever mention another gentleman’s name in her master’s presence. Ah, Hetty thought, there were many others who would relish filling Lord Oberlon’s ears with tales of his mistress and another gentleman.
Melissande said, “Yes, it’s just as you say, my lord. But now that you are here, I won’t think of the marquess. Perhaps he isn’t even in London, for I’ve not heard from him.”
Hetty suddenly gulped down a sinking thought. Had Lord Oberlon perhaps dismissed the beautiful Melissande? Lord, if that were so, Lord Harry’s antics were not only needlessly expensive but also pointless. But as Hetty had no evidence that such a break had occurred between the marquess and his mistress, she was careful to maintain the depressingly romantic chatter that Melissande appeared so much to admire. She pressed Melissande to ride two turns about the park, ensuring again that the usual habitués had an excellent view of Lord Monteith in the company of Lord Oberlon’s mistress.
When Hetty returned to Lord Harry’s lodgings to change for dinner and the inevitable cockfight, she wanted nothing more than to sink chin deep in a hot bath. She could still sniff faint whiffs of Melissande’s heavy perfume.
Shortly after eight o’clock she took a hackney to Mr. Scuddimore’s lodgings on Queen Street, hopeful that the wretched cockfight wouldn’t last very long. There were several aspects about being a gentleman that made her stomach turn over.
A closed carriage, the eagle and raven crest barely visible on its paneled doors, drew to a jolting halt on Thompson Street. A cloaked gentleman flung open the doors and alighted before the driver scarce had time to quiet the steaming horses.
“Walk the horses about, Silken. I shan’t be above thirty minutes within,” the gentleman said over his shoulder.
“Aye, your grace.”
The Marquess of Oberlon took the front steps two at a time. He felt such fury that he wanted to choke on it. He pounded his fist upon the closed oak door.
Pottson, who was enjoying a warm mug of ale, contemplating a quiet, uneventful evening by himself, jumped in his chair at the sudden loud knocking, spilling some of the lovely ale to the carpet. His eyes flew to the clock over the mantelpiece. It was scarcely after nine o’clock. It couldn’t be Miss Hetty, that was for certain. He set down his ale and hurried to the door.
“Who is there?” He pressed his ear to the door.
“Open the door, damn you. Be quick about it man, else I shall kick it in.”