Finally, Maura dressed carefully in a dark traveling gown and warm woolen cloak. When one o’clock arrived, she descended the stairs with her valise and saddlebags.
Hannah and Lucy were waiting for her at the front door with embraces and kisses, although, thankfully, there was no sign of th
eir mother. Maura promised faithfully that she would write to the girls, and then went outside.
Her one-horse gig had been delivered by the livery stables as requested, and was harnessed to Fripon, a stocky, rather ugly chestnut gelding who happened to be Emperor’s favorite equine companion. Maura had driven Frip to London two weeks ago for this very purpose in the event her cause became desperate.
She greeted the horse fondly, then put her valise and saddlebags on the gig’s floorboard rather than handing them over to John, since she didn’t want him opening the vehicle’s boot and finding all the odd items stored there.
A leather trunk had also been strapped to the boot, Maura saw with satisfaction. She dismissed John and the livery groom and was just about to climb into the gig’s seat when she heard the sound of carriage wheels.
To Maura’s dismay, Katharine drove up in her dashing phaeton and pair, her young tiger perched behind.
Maura pasted a smile on her face, even though she was cursing at her ill luck. Two minutes more and she would have made her escape. Even though she had wanted witnesses to see her leave for home in Suffolk, she knew that Katharine would be much too hard to fool.
With an inward sigh, Maura waited as her friend halted the phaeton expertly. Leaving the young lad in charge of her pair of grays, Katharine climbed down and made her way over to the gig.
“I heard about what happened in the park, Maura,” she said in explanation, “and I was worried for you. You do mean to let my brother help you, do you not? You cannot handle the viscount all on your own.”
“I know,” Maura replied evenly.
“So what do you mean to do now?”
“I will think of something. For now, however, I am going home.”
Katharine’s raised eyebrows expressed astonishment and skepticism both. “Surely you cannot be serious. You cannot give in to that odious bully.”
“I am not giving in. I am merely retreating to fight another day.”
Kate’s green eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Maura tried to keep her expression neutral, but evidently her pretense didn’t work.
“Maura Collyer,” Katharine said in a warning tone. “You are plotting something, aren’t you?”
“Whyever would you think that?”
“Because I know you too well.” Just then Katharine’s penetrating gaze swept Maura’s traveling attire. “What is this? You were sneaking out of town without even saying good-bye?”
“I said good-bye in a note to you—and I arranged to have your ball gown returned to you also.”
“I don’t give a fig about the dratted gown! I care about what happens to you.” When Maura remained silent, Kate frowned. “I never thought you would keep secrets from me, of all people,” she added in an attempt to shame Maura into confessing. “I won’t tell anyone, not even Ash. You know I am utterly loyal to you.”
“Of course you are.”
Kate gave a huff of exasperation. “You could at least let me in on the excitement.”
In spite of herself, Maura smiled. Leave it to Katharine to make an adventure out of a dire predicament.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said firmly, “but you need to let me deal with this problem in my own way.”
Oddly enough, Katharine didn’t press her further. “Oh very well. You handle Deering however you wish. But you cannot leave town just now. You will ruin all my plans.”
It was Maura’s turn to look suspicious. “What plans?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but you leave me no choice. Do you recall that my Uncle Cornelius is a scholar of classic literature? Well, I have developed a theory based on his expert knowledge.…”
A confusing minute of explanation ensued regarding Lord Cornelius Wilde’s understanding of famous lovers in history. Impatient to get away, Maura heeded with only half an ear, not really caring how similar her family circumstances were to Charles Perrault’s French fairy tale of Cinderella written more than a century ago … at least not until Katharine concluded with, “So you see, Ashton could be your prince.”