Nodding, Dorothea murmured thanks and reassurances before she and Ferdie left for the carriages.

In spite of the coachman’s best efforts, the journey to Cavendish Square took twenty tense minutes. Admitted to Merion House by a surprised Mellow, they found, as suspected, a recently delivered letter addressed to Dorothea. Lady Merion was attending a card party at Miss Berry’s and would not be home for hours.

Ushering Dorothea into the drawing-room and shutting the door on Mellow, Ferdie nodded to the letter. ‘Best open it. Have to know what they want.’

Dorothea broke the cheap seal and read the contents of the single sheet, Ferdie looking over her shoulder.

My dear Miss Darent,

I have your sister in safe keeping and if you wish to see her again you will do exactly as I say. You should immediately set out in your carriage and travel to the Castle Inn at Tadworth, south of Banstead. Do not bring anyone with you or nothing will come of your visit and your sister’s reputation will assuredly be lost. If you do not arrive before dawn I will be forced to conclude that you have informed the authorities and I will then have to flee the country, taking your sister with me. I am sure I can rely on your good sense. I remain,

Your most obedient servant,

Edward Buchanan, Esq.

‘Good God! The bounder!’ said Ferdie, disgust etching his fair face. ‘You can’t possibly go to that place.’ After a pause he added, ‘But someone’s going to have to.’

Dorothea’s mind was racing. In a way, it was partly her fault that Cecily had been abducted. If only she had been more careful of her younger sister and not so absorbed with her own affairs. It was Cecily for whom they had come to London to find a husband. Maybe she could have been firmer with Edward Buchanan, though it was difficult to see how. Weighing up the possible courses of action available to her, she answered Ferdie at random. ‘Yes, but who? And how?’

Ferdie had little doubt as to the who and how. ‘Best thing we can do is get hold of Hazelmere. Tony’ll be with him and they’ll know what to do. Sort of thing Marc’s good at.’

Dorothea’s absent gaze abruptly fixed on Ferdie’s face. She had no difficulty understanding his comments. But inwardly she groaned. The memory of how affairs stood between herself and the Marquis, never far from mind, reeled into focus. After the way they had parted the last thing she needed was this. To meet him next with a calm request to extricate her sister, essentially her responsibility, from the clutches of one of her own importunate suitors was a prospect she could not face. ‘No, Ferdie,’ she said with calm decision. ‘There’s no need for Hazelmere or Fanshawe or anyone else to be involved.’

Ferdie simply looked blank. Then stubborn. There ensued a totally unprofitable ten minutes of wrangling. Finally Dorothea suggested a compromise. ‘If you fetch Grandmama, then she can decide what to do.’

Relieved, Ferdie headed for Miss Berry’s.


* * *

It was over an hour later that Mellow opened the door to his mistress. On reaching the Misses Berry’s trim little house, Ferdie had sent in a message that Dorothea was ill and consequently Lady Merion’s presence was required at Merion House. Instead of resulting in Lady Merion’s coming out, he had been summoned in. Lady Merion had been engaged in a thrilling rubber and had desired to know how desperately ill her granddaughter, last seen in rude health, had become. Under the amused gaze of what had seemed like half the ton, Ferdie had been forced to assure her ladyship that Dorothea’s state was not critical. With a smile her ladyship had settled down to finish her game.

But now, as she surrendered her fur wrap, Lady Merion looked anything but complacent. A worried frown had settled over the sharp blue eyes as she led the way into the drawing-room. Ferdie followed and shut the door.

‘Where’s Dorothea?’ asked Lady Merion.

Ferdie’s face was blank as he scanned the room, almost as if he expected to find Dorothea hiding in a corner. The pale blue eyes stopped when they reached the white square tucked into a corner of the mirror on the mantelpiece.

Lady Merion, following his gaze, walked over and twitched the envelope free. It was addressed to her. She smoothed out the sheet. Then, one hand groping wildly, she sank into a chair. Under her powder she paled, but her voice when she spoke was firm. ‘Drat the girl! She’s gone off to get Cecily herself.’

‘What?’

‘Precisely!’ Lady Merion read the note again. ‘A lot of gibberish about being responsible for the mess.’ She snorted. ‘Says she can handle Buchanan.’

A pause developed, Ferdie, for once, too incensed to break it. Eventually Lady Merion spoke again. ‘I’m not so sure she can handle that man. I think we should summon Hazelmere anyway. Dorothea seems set against it, but in the circumstances he should be told. It’s time she realised that, as she’s virtually affianced to him, she simply can’t go careering off about the countryside like this, let alone keep it hidden from him.’ The sharp blue eyes turned on Ferdie. ‘So how do we get hold of him?’

Ferdie came to life. ‘Tonight it’s easy. You write a note and we’ll send it to him at White’s. One night of the year you can be sure he’s there.’

Lady Merion nodded briskly and, going to the small escritoire, dashed off a note to Hazelmere.

Ferdie, engaged in some hard thinking, looked up as she sealed it. ‘Don’t address it. I’ll do that.’

Lady Merion raised her brows but relinquished her seat without comment. Picking up the pen, Ferdie frowned, then inscribed the front of the note with his cousin’s full title.

Summoning Mellow, Ferdie put the note into his hands and instructed him to ensure its immediate delivery to White’s. No answer was expected. Together with Lady Merion, he settled down to wait.

As Ferdie had predicted, both Lords Hazelmere and Fanshawe were at their accustomed positions in the gaming-room. Hazelmere was holding the bank, and the rest of the table was comprised of their friends, all making every effort to break the bank. They had been playing for a little over an hour and had just got pleasantly settled in.

Hazelmere, dealing the next hand, was surprised to find an attendant at his elbow with a letter on a salver. Completing the deal, he picked up the letter and, glancing at the direction, used the silver-bladed knife to break the seal. He laid the missive on the table and returned his attention to his cards.

He had immediately recognised Ferdie’s handwriting, but could not understand why his cousin should suddenly start to send letters to him under his full title. In fact, he could not understand why Ferdie would send him a letter at this time of night at all. Despite giving only half his mind to the game, he succeeded in concluding the first round and, while the other players were considering their next bids, he opened the letter.

The reason for Ferdie’s departure from normal behaviour was instantly apparent. Rapidly scanning the lines, he managed to control his expression so that those watching could tell nothing from it. The letter ran,

My dear Hazelmere,

Cecily has been abducted by Edward Buchanan. In a note he has demanded Dorothea’s attendance at some inn. After sending Ferdie to get me, Dorothea left for the inn. Ferdie suggests you may be able to help. We are at Merion House.

Yours, et cetera,

Hermione Merion.

Refolding the letter, Hazelmere stared pensively at the cards. Then, placing the letter in his coat pocket, he turned once more to the game. He rapidly brought this to a conclusion, refusing the opportunity to draw Markham further into the bidding. Pushing back his chair, he signalled to an attendant to remove the pile of rouleaus from in front of him. ‘I’m very much afraid, my friends, that you’ll have to continue without me,’ he said smoothly.

‘Trouble?’ asked Peterborough.

‘I trust not. Nevertheless, I’ll have to return to Cavendish Square. Will you take the bank, Gerry?’

While Hazelmere and Peterborough concluded their transaction for transfer of the bank, Fanshawe frowned at the table. He had also recognised Ferdie’s writing. Finally catching Hazelmere’s eye, he raised his brows questioningly. Receiving an almost imperceptible nod in return, he also withdrew from the game. Minutes later the two friends descended the steps of White’s. Once clear of the entrance, Fanshawe asked, ‘What is it? Not your mother?’

Hazelmere shook his head. ‘Wrong side of Cavendish Square.’ Without further comment he handed the letter over. They stopped under a street-lamp for Fanshawe to read it.

‘Good lord! Cecily!’

‘I’m afraid we protected Dorothea too well and so he changed his plans a trifle.’ Seeing Fanshawe still staring at the letter, Hazelmere removed this firmly from his grasp, saying, ‘I suspect we should hurry.’

They covered the distance to Cavendish Square in less than ten minutes. Admitted to Merion House by the thoroughly intrigued Mellow, Hazelmere did not wait to be announced but led the way into the drawing-room.

Lady Merion started up out of her chair. ‘Thank God you’re here!’ Despite her wish to appear calm, the unexpected worry was a taxing burden. She was no longer young.

Hazelmere smiled reassuringly and, after bowing over her hand, settled her once more. Hearing the increasing commotion from the other side of the room as Fanshawe tried to piece together what had happened, he intervened. ‘I think we should start at the beginning.’

His voice cut through the altercation with ease. Fanshawe and Ferdie looked at him, then his lordship abandoned his belligerent stance and Ferdie his defensive one. They seated themselves, Ferdie opposite Lady Merion and Fanshawe on a chair pulled over from the side of the room.