ir Anthony Danvers, calling next morning in Grosvenor Square to enquire after the ladies, was informed by an uncommunicative Maria that milady was still unwell and not receiving guests. Upon his asking for Miss Kilpatrick, the abigail informed him woodenly that she had taken her young charge down to the squire’s estates for a visit.
Upon his expressing surprise that Miss Kilpatrick had not apprised him of her intention, Maria managed to convey the impression that she could not think where he had come by such a notion, and flushing slightly, he retired in disorder.
Maria watched him go, a smile of grim satisfaction on her thin face. Whatever her thoughts were, she kept them to herself, and took in the flowers he had left for milady, arranging them carefully in a vase as she told her mistress with studied nonchalance that Patience and Timothy had left for Kent.
Milady, still feeling extremely weak and sorr y for herself, accepted this somewhat peevishly, but evinced no real interest in anything other than in Maria’s ability to relieve the ache in her head.
Sir Anthony drove back towards his lodgings in a thoughtful frame of mind, but before he reached them, turned his horses around, deciding for some reason unknown to himself to pay the viscount a visit.
However, even this intention was frustrated when he was met on the threshold by the viscount’s man, who greeted him rather gloomily.
‘You may certainly come in, Sir Anthony,’ he said rather doubtfully, throwing the door wide open. ‘However, I regret to inform you that my master is from home.’
‘Good God, Jacob, at this hour? ’ cried Sir Anthony in some amazement. ‘What the devil got him out of bed before noon?’
‘Lord Beauclerc, sir, did not sleep at home,’ replied the valet