She hurried downstairs, slipped past the kitchens and out into the garden. It was quite dark now, but still warm. A sliver of moon hung in the sky and, once her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, she could see the outline of the trees that lined the narrow path, although everything beneath them was in deep shadow. She felt very conspicuous in her white gown, which glimmered in the darkness.
‘Freddie?’ she called his name softly.
There was a movement in the shadows beside her and she turned.
‘Freddie, what on earth—?’
The words were cut off as a large hand clamped a wad of cloth over her nose and mouth. She was caught in an iron grip, a strong arm around her waist almost lifting her off her feet. She struggled, trying to breathe through the material over her face. Then everything went black.
Chapter Ten
The evening passed slowly for Tristan. There was no shortage of conversation, but he acknowledged to himself that the only reason he stayed was the chance of another word with Natalya. The Pridhams seemed intent on keeping him away from her, but he was determined to talk to her again before the end of the evening.
He escorted Mrs Ancrum to supper and they were soon joined by Tristan’s old friend, Major Moffatt, and his wife. No one could fault his attention to his companions, but although he listened with half an ear as Mrs Ancrum and the Moffatts discussed the imminent arrival of the Allied Sovereigns and the celebrations for the Peace arranged in London, he was all too aware that Natalya was nowhere to be seen. On the main table, Mrs Pridham was speaking earnestly to her husband and a few moments later she slipped out of the room.
‘You’re very distracted, Tris. Something wrong, my friend?’
Major Moffatt, sitting beside him, had leaned closer to refill his glass. Tristan met his eyes and decided against prevaricating.
‘I was looking for Miss Fairchild. Seems damned odd that she should disappear from her own party.’
The Major pushed the decanter away.
‘Not sure if it is of any relevance,’ he said slowly, ‘but I was one of the last to come in to supper. My dashed leg, you know. I like to wait, rather than hold up everyone else. I noticed Miss Fairchild reading a note.’ He continued in the same carefully indifferent voice, ‘Could have been a billet-doux.’
Tristan considered. It was most likely from Freddie, apologising for his absence on her special day. Why would he do that, though, when he had taken his leave of her in person? He frowned. Besides, it was not like Freddie, who found putting pen to paper a laborious chore. After a moment he excused himself from his companions and left the supper room.
In the hall, Mrs Pridham was talking to a maidservant. When the girl had hurried away, he approached his hostess.
‘Is anything amiss, ma’am? Can I be of assistance?’
She jumped. ‘What? Oh, no, no, my lord. I was...er...merely having a word with the staff. We have hired extra servants, you see. One needs constantly to keep an eye upon them.’
‘Forgive me, but surely that was Miss Fairchild’s maid I saw in the hall just now,’ he persisted. ‘I trust your niece is not ill?’
‘Natalya?’ Mrs Pridham gave a little trill of laughter. ‘No, she is not ill, my lord. Nothing of the sort. Natalya is never ill. Only...only it has been a long day and she is a trifle fatigued by all the excitement. She has gone to her room. That is all.’
She had retired from her own party! But perhaps it was not quite so strange. There was a notable absence of young people and no dancing. Tristan felt a stab of disappointment that she did not think his company worth staying for, but he shrugged it off. Most likely she was missing Freddie a great deal more than she would admit.
Mrs Pridham touched his arm. ‘Do, pray, go back to your supper, Lord Dalmorren. My niece would not wish to have any attention drawn to her absence.’
If Natalya was not coming back, then there really was no point in his staying any longer. Tristan gave his hostess a tight smile.
‘As a matter of fact, I had not intended to remain so long, ma’am. I shall take my leave of you now.’ She looked surprised, but he gave her no time to speak or persuade him to stay. ‘There is no need to send out for my carriage,’ he told her as he bowed over her hand. ‘I shall walk around to the mews and find it myself. Good night to you, Mrs Pridham.’
Outside the night was balmy. Tristan regretted now that he had brought his carriage. After all, it was not far to George Street, he might easily walk. Confound it, he would much prefer to walk. Beyond the flickering street lamps, a crescent moon was sailing in a cloudless sky. He recalled what James Moffatt had told him about Natalya receiving a note and he glanced up at the moon again. It was a perfect night for a midnight assignation.
Hell and damnation! Could it be that Freddie had duped him, that he had not yet left Bath? Perhaps Natalya had not retired. Perhaps they were even now in the garden together. Jamming his hat on his head, Tristan strode quickly to the far end of Sydney Place and made his way around the corner. As he had thought, the rear of the terrace was completely enclosed by a high wall. There would be neighbouring gardens on either side of the Pridhams’ residence and the mews buildings along the back. No easy way in or out, save through the house or the coach house.
‘Bah! You have let the woman get under your skin,’ Tristan muttered. ‘Get yourself home to bed, man.’
He found his carriage without difficulty. It was pulled up at the entrance to the mews, the driver and footman sitting together on
