"Home, for I fear I shall have a megrim," Olivia said, with a broad smile.

"Oh, no. We are all going to Peckford's rout party first. The food is horrid at the Pantheon, and very dear. We shall leave from Peckford's."

"John said I should have a headache and go home."

"Have a headache, and I'll take you home," Angela suggested.

"Mrs. Harwood and Laura would insist on taking me home."

"Then don't tell them. Leave a message with some other friend."

Mr. Meadows, occupying the fifth seat in the box, cupped his ear, but could not hear over the others' chatter.

When Olivia noticed, she smiled to disarm his suspicions. Could she trust him not to go darting off to Laura with the news that she had left? "I'll manage it somehow," she promised Angela. "Don't leave Peckford's without me."

"Foolish girl! You are all John has talked about all night. I swear he can't open his mouth without singing your praises. Miss Hanson would be very jealous if she could hear him."

"Who is Miss Hanson?" Olivia demanded.

"Why, she is the neighbor of the fellow he was visiting all week. A regular Incomparable. But you need not fear. Her papa sent John packing for some reason or other. They are so poky in the country there is no standing it. I must dash."

Olivia was thrown into conniptions of jealousy. She must get away somehow tonight, or she would lose John forever. Yet it seemed an impossibility. Between Laura, Mrs. Harwood, and Mr. Meadows (for Aunt Hettie would go home immediately after the play), they would watch her like a hawk. Her eyes slid to John's box, where she could see she was missing out on a delightful evening. John was making paper balls from his program and shooting them down into the pit. There, he had hit that bald man right on the head. How they all laughed. She longed with every fiber of her being to be with youngsters who knew how to enjoy themselves, instead of stuck here with this dull lot.

She could hardly force a smile when Mr. Meadows drew a box of her favorite bonbons from his pocket and passed them to her. She didn't even thank him, but just accepted them and popped half a dozen into her mouth, one after the other, while she gazed at John through her glasses.

Chapter Eighteen

It seemed to the baroness that the play that evening lasted twenty hours. She couldn't think, with the racket of laughter all around her and the actors on stage ranting at each other. The audience clapped at every appearance of a certain stout female with feathers in her hair.

At long last there was a wild burst of applause and the curtain fell. After a series of curtain calls, with the fat actress who had played the main role taking a dozen bows, the audience began making those stirring motions involved with rescuing shawls and reticules. It was over, thank God!

And still Olivia had formed no plan of escape. But she meant to attend the Pantheon that night, if she had to walk over the dead bodies of her aunt, of Mrs. Harwood, cousin Laura, and Mr. Meadows to do it. She would go if she had to fight her way out of Peckford's with guns blazing.

Around her the audience was loud in its praise of the performance. Mr. Meadows came forward to place her shawl about her shoulders. "That was quite an experience, was it not?" he smiled. "It will be something to tell your children one day, Baroness."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, wondering if she had missed some excitement on stage while watching John. Had an actor expired, or been pelted off the stage?

"Why, I wager this will be the great Mrs. Jordan's last role. I would not have missed it for a wilderness of monkeys. She is getting on to be playing Lady Teazle, of course, but there is some magic in the woman. I think she must be part sorceress."

"Was that Mrs. Jordan?" Olivia demanded. She felt cheated. She had been hearing of this legend for years.

Now that she had "seen" her, she could not even say what the play had been. "She is awfully fat," she said crossly.

"Aye, but she is tall and carries the weight well." He smiled benignly and turned to assist the other ladies, and eventually they left their box.

There was an interminable delay as they waited for their carriage to fight its way through the melee outside the theater, and a further delay while Hettie was dropped off at Charles Street. With Mr. Meadows to protect the ladies, Mrs. Harwood decided to skip the rout, and went home with Hettie. After a prolonged series of farewells, the carriage was finally on its way to Peckford's.

Laura enjoyed the evening as much as a lady with a broken heart could. Mentally she appreciated that she was viewing Mrs. Jordan's final role, but emotionally she was miles away. Once she had ascertained that Lord Hyatt was not at the theater, her mind began darting about London in search of him. Her first act at any outing was always to examine the room for a sight of him. She did so again when they reached Peckford's. Whatever part of the room he occupied, she made a point of heading to the part farthest from him. A cursory look failed to spot his blond head in the ballroom.

Almost unconsciously she had adopted the habit of running through the various entertainments offered each night, trying to figure out where Hyatt might be. She had expected he would attend Mrs. Jordan's opening at Covent Garden. When he was not there, she pondered alternatives. Lady Montagu's ball was the other notable party that evening. Olivia had declined the invitation to that grand but dull affair. Laura had thought Hyatt would make an early appearance there, then go to Peckford's smaller but livelier do, where all the young ton would meet. Perhaps he would arrive any moment.

Meanwhile, she must look about for a partner, as Mr. Meadows would want to stand up first with the baroness. Lord Talman still had some hope of winning the baroness's fortune for one of his brothers, and came forward to ask Olivia for a dance. The baroness accepted, feeling that Talman would be easier to get away from than Mr. Meadows. Her attention was on the doorway, for John had not arrived yet. Meadows, disappointed, stood up with Laura.

Halfway through the set, Yarrow and his crew made a noisy appearance. Laura was unhappy to see them, but Olivia had not mentioned Yarrow since the affair at Castlefield. Unacquainted with Yarrow's itinerary, Laura assumed he had been in town all week, and as he had not been pestering the baroness, she thought he had found some new lady to harass. Mr. Meadows made but an indifferent partner. He feared the baroness had a tendre for Talman after all, as she had accepted his escort so eagerly.

During Laura's dance with Meadows, Lord Hyatt appeared at the doorway with a group of bachelors. He was never difficult to spot. A current of excitement always buzzed through the room at his entrance. Heads turned, necks craned, and eyes squinted for a glimpse of him.

"There is Hyatt, just come in," Meadows mentioned gloomily. "I daresay the baroness will give him the next dance. I shall try for the one after that."

"Try for the one after this, Mr. Meadows," she replied. "I doubt Hyatt will ask Olivia for a dance." Or Miss Harwood either, she added to herself.

At the end of the music, one of the other gentlemen from their set asked Laura for the next dance, and she accepted gladly. She did not want Hyatt to see her unpartnered. She gave scarcely a thought to Olivia. When Meadows was with them, he made himself responsible for her welfare, so Laura could take a break from this onerous chore.

Olivia's eyes narrowed when Hyatt entered. Her plan was beginning to take shape. John was standing at the side of the room, making various grimaces and head motions that told her he was impatient to be off. She must avoid Mr. Meadows and Laura, and that meant fooling them into thinking she was dancing with someone else.

As soon as the music stopped, she said to Lord Talman, "I see Lord Hyatt has just come in. I must have a word with him about my portrait. Thank you for a lovely dance, Lord Talman."

He bowed punctiliously. "The pleasure was mine, Baroness. I look forward to seeing you at your ball. You won't forget the card for Rufus and Rodney? So very kind of you-"

"Yes, yes," she said, and darted off toward Hyatt.

"Lord Hyatt, may I have a word with you?" she said. Placing her fingers on his elbow, she detached him from his group to lead him into the hall beyond.

Meadows saw them go and felt sure Hyatt would be the baroness's next partner. Laura watched in confusion, hoping that Olivia had not taken the shatterbrained notion of trying to arrange a reconciliation between her and Hyatt. Olivia frequently scolded her for having lost such a prime parti. What was the wretched girl up to? When the music resumed, Meadows danced with one of the other ladies from their set. It was a rollicking country dance. Between the exertions of the moves and the loud music, coherent thought was impossible.

Olivia peered from the hallway to see that her two jailers were occupied. Then to be rid of Hyatt, she said, "When will you bring my portrait to Charles Street? My aunt is eager to see it. Is it dry yet?"

"It is dry enough to move, though not completely set. I can have it sent over tomorrow, if you are eager to have it."

"Oh yes, I am dying to see it. So you will bring it along tomorrow?"

"I will have it sent, Baroness," he repeated.

Olivia paid no heed to this subtlety. "Wonderful. Thank you so much. I'll let you go now, Lord Hyatt. I am sure you are eager to find Lady Devereau. Actually, I have not seen her this evening."

She fluttered a wave at him and darted upstairs for her wrap. Hyatt was annoyed at the reference to Lady Devereau but relieved that he had not been coerced into partnering that wretched chit of a girl. As the dance had already begun, he would have to wait half an hour for the next set. His eyes skimmed around the floor until he spotted Laura. A scowl drew his eyebrows together as he strolled into the refreshment parlor, where he was soon surrounded by a flock of admirers.

Olivia snatched up her pelisse and went downstairs, where John and his crew awaited her. Other guests were arriving. Under cover of the confusion, Olivia slipped behind a potted palm and got out without her hostess recognizing her.

"By Jove, it took you long enough!" were John's first words, after not seeing his beloved for close to a week.

"You changed the plan," Olivia retorted sharply. "I had a deuced hard time escaping from Mr. Meadows and Laura."

"It'll get easier with practice," he said nonchalantly.

"Do you have my domino?"

"Where's the spare domino, Charlie?" he called to his friend, as they hastened to their carriage.

"I don't have it. You lent it to Miss Hanson last week."

This was a new outrage for Olivia to consider. "Then you will just have to lend me yours," she said to John. "I cannot let my gown be seen. Someone might recognize it."

"Dash it, all white gowns look alike."

Angela Carstairs came to the rescue. "The fact that it is white will alert any Nosey Parkers hanging about that Olivia is a deb. You must lend her yours, John."

"I don't see why everything must be left up to me." He held the door while Olivia climbed into his rig.

She had never been inside it before. To a lady accustomed to the baroque opulence of the Turtle, it seemed a shoddy thing. It was hardsprung and crowded. Empty wine bottles rolled around the floor. The crowding allowed John to slide his arm around her, however, and she was soon distracted from lesser consideration.

"Did you miss me, John?" she asked shyly.

"By the living jingo, I missed you every hour of the day. Did Angela tell you I beat the stuffing out of Hanson in a curricle race to Brighton? Sixteen miles an hour. I won a monkey off him."

"Would that be Miss Hanson's brother?" Olivia asked stiffly.

"Who else would it be? Did they cut up stiff at Castlefield when they got you home?"

"Yes, they were horrid," she said, hoping for support.


"I would have beaten the stuffing out of Talman if he hadn't been your host. I feared he'd take it out on you."

"Oh, no, he is a real gentleman."

"Did he offer for you?" Angela asked.

Sensing that a negative might lower her value, Olivia replied, "I didn't give him the chance. He keeps calling on me ten times a day. Tonight he asked me if his twin brothers could come to my ball."

"If you're planning to fill the house with such lumber as the Castlefield lot, you can keep my card," John said.

"They have already been invited," Olivia replied. This did not seem the moment to tell him he was not to receive a card. Even her biddable Aunt Hettie had drawn the line there.