Page 49 of To Follow her Heart

“Yes, as soon as they’ve left the room. We must hurry, though, or we’ll lose them. Bonnie, you stay and keep an eye out for Mr Derby.”

Bonnie huffed a little at being left behind, but she could hardly go looking for him, so she nodded and Matilda watched the two ladies slip out of the door before she followed Harriet and went after them. Lady St Clair turned from her conversation with Miss Derby and Harriet’s Aunt Nell, and looked somewhat perplexed that her guests had all chosen to have an early night, but let them go without questioning them.

They had taken tea in the blue drawing room, one of a line of connecting rooms of such splendour it was impossible to take everything in. From the blue drawing room they walked directly into the Roman room, so named for the incredible scenes painted all around them from famous episodes of Roman history. On the ceiling, mythological figures and beasts stared down, the vast size of the room and the powerfully painted deities and monsters making any visitor feel somewhat insignificant.

Once outside, Harriet put her finger to her lips, indicating Matilda should stay still and listen. They could hear the low murmur of voices and the rustle of fabric from the next room and waited until it grew faint. Harriet moved, hurrying to the end of the Roman room and peering into the next.

“The men took their port on the terrace tonight as it’s so stuffy,” she whispered to Matilda as she drew back into the room. “So, I think they’ll either go straight into the blue drawing room via the glass doors from outside, or some might go to the billiard room.”

The billiard room was further down this row of rooms, Matilda knew, though where exactly she wasn’t certain.

“What do you think they’re plotting?” Matilda asked, even more enthusiastic about the idea now than she had been. Her heart was thudding, and she felt rather breathless. It was exhilarating.

“Lady Frances tried to ruin Kitty, but that didn’t work because we got to them in time,” Harriet said thoughtfully. “But what if she turned that about? What if a man were caught with a duke’s daughter, in a compromising position?”

“Oh, but Mr Baxter would never—”

“No,” Harriet interrupted, impatient. “But he wouldn’t have to. He’d only need to be seen to be in a compromising position.”

“Oh!” Matilda said, wide-eyed. “He’d have to marry her. There would be no getting out of it if there were witnesses. My goodness, Harry. Where would they choose?”

Harriet bit her lip, her expression intense and serious. She knew this bewildering and cavernous building better than most. Lady St Clair had even said Harriet knew it better than she did, and Matilda could believe it.

“The yellow saloon,” she said at length. “It’s one of the family’s favourite rooms because it’s smaller than the others and cosier. It’s relatively close, but perfect for a seduction as, with company here, it’s empty and you don’t have to traverse any other rooms to get in or out of it. There’s also a secret passage to it,” she added, with a chortle of delight. Grasping Matilda’s hand, she towed her along in her wake. “Come along,” she said. “We must hurry.”

***

Luke leaned on the balustrade that looked out over an immense expanse of land, all belonging to the behemoth of a building they stood before. A sickle moon gave little light, but the sky wasn’t entirely dark yet and the silhouette of woods and hills was backlit still. He wondered if he preferred it to Trevick and couldn’t find any strong feelings either way. Trevick was just as grand, though even older and draughtier, and less convenient.

He could never think of Trevick as belonging to him, despite so many years of preparing for his role as the earl. It still seemed preposterous, like some wild story Kitty had made up and somehow he’d become trapped in the telling of it. Still, if it was a story of her devising, she’d turn up to rescue him at any moment. A smile curved over his mouth as he realised that was exactly what she’d done.

“Luke.”

Luke turned as Mr Derby addressed him.

“St Clair has challenged Mr Burton to a game of billiards. I’m going along to watch them. Will you have a game with me when they’re done?” His face darkened, a frown tugging his eyebrows together. “I know we’ve been at odds of late but… I always enjoyed our games after dinner and, well, I suppose I owe you an apology for… for the things I said about Miss Connolly. You’re disrupting all my plans, boy, and that’s hard to come to terms with, but I ought not have spoken so harshly.”

Mr Derby put out his hand and Luke stared at it. Suspicion crawled up the back of his neck, but for the life of him he couldn’t see what the old devil had to gain from his apology, or from the game. That he’d agreed to play Mr Burton was also odd, Derby would think him an encroaching mushroom.

Luke gestured to his glass of port. “I’m not done yet, and—”

“Oh, no rush, no rush. I think St Clair and Mr Burton are fine players, equally matched. I shall enjoy watching them. Will you come when you’ve finished?” He held out his hand again and, though Luke knew there was something wrong, it seemed churlish to refuse him.

“Very well,” he said, taking Mr Derby’s hand. “I’ll be along presently.”

He watched as Mr Derby walked off towards the main entrance. He’d not want to go via the drawing room where the ladies were gathered in case he got waylaid and forced to drink tea. It was a longer way around but with less peril of being trapped en route. Luke finished his cognac and followed him a few moments later. There was no point going to see the ladies, as Kitty would have long since retired for the night. He imagined her lying on her bed, wide awake, waiting for their adventure to begin with her usual impatience. Luke chuckled to himself and went back into the building, heading for the billiard room.

“Oh, Mr Baxter, Mr Baxter, thank heavens!”

Luke spun around, startled by the panic in the voice that echoed through the entrance hall.

“Mrs Drake… what—?”

“I think she’s dead!” the woman cried, clutching at his lapels and shaking him. “Lady F-Frances…. She fainted and I-I c-cannot wake her, she’s dead… oh, oh….” Mrs Drake began to cry hysterically.

“Where?” Luke asked, appalled. Surely a healthy young woman couldn’t simply drop dead?

“In t-there….” Mrs Drake sobbed, crumpling to the ground in a flurry of silk skirts as she put her head in her hands and moaned.