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.
Hazelmere nodded his approval and perched on the arm of the chaise. ‘You start, Ferdie.’
‘Took Dorothea and Cecily to Lady Rothwell’s, as I’d said. We all thought it was to be a quiet little party. Turned out to be a visit to Vauxhall.’
‘Couldn’t you have stopped it?’ interposed Fanshawe.
Ferdie looked at Hazelmere and replied, ‘Knew you wouldn’t like it, but nothing to be done. Dorothea and Cecily wouldn’t have understood. Couldn’t simply refuse and come away.’
Hazelmere nodded. ‘Yes, I see. What then?’
‘At first all seemed fine. Nothing untoward. Young people only and no flash characters. Took Dorothea for a stroll.’ Nodding to Hazelmere, he explained, ‘Your message. When we got back to the booth Lady Rothwell told us Cecily had gone. A servant had come with a letter for her.’ Fishing in his coat pockets for the letter, Ferdie continued, ‘Fellow told Lady Rothwell he was your man, Tony. Here it is.’
He handed the crumpled note to Fanshawe. As he read it his lordship’s face grew unusually grim. Handing it on to Hazelmere, he looked at Ferdie. ‘And she went with him?’