Hope didn’t respond. The waltz was coming to an end. She squeezed Tensford’s hand. “My lord, I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain, bringing you tonight. Now it is your turn. The dance is winding down. Can you make sure we end it near those potted plants?” She nodded toward the corner.
Surprise, and a mix of mischief and curiosity, chased his frown away. He nodded. “I am a man of my word, Lady Hope.”
The waltz ended. The musicians stood and stretched and set their instruments aside. Couples joined the guests moving toward the rooms set up for dining, but Hope pushed Tensford behind the palms, placed conveniently to hide a servant’s door.
“All of the servants are occupied with dinner,” she whispered. “The way should be clear.”
She slipped through the door and started down a narrow set of stairs.
He followed. “What are you up to? Have you an heiress hidden down in a coal larder?”
“No. Shhh!” The stairs let out onto a wide passage. Kitchen sounds and barked orders sounded at the far end. She peered out, watching for her moment. “Now!”
She dashed a short distance toward a wide door. He followed and then they were through, and out in the night air.
“Quickly,” she told him. “We have to get there and back before the late supper is finished.”
She pulled him past stacked crates, a privy and the kitchen gardens. A gate in the back led to a narrow street that stood between the house grounds and the mews.
“What are you doing, Lady Hope?” he whispered, balking at last. “You cannot wander in the mews and back lanes! It could be dangerous.”
She shook her head. “Bedford Square, my lord, if you will recall? It’s all locked up tight.” She gestured behind them, where the lane narrowed and eventually ended at a locked gate. “Perfectly safe.”
“Unless you don’t get back before you are missed!”
“Miss Nichols will cover for us. There are two separate dining areas. She’ll just tell her mama she saw us in the other one.”
He considered that. “But where in blazes are you taking us?”
“Just up here.” She dragged him along the row of houses. At the fourth one she stopped and traversed a path to the house that echoed the one they had already taken, where she knocked on the closed door.
It opened immediately. “Come in quickly, Miss.” The maid led them further into the house and to a staircase on the other side of the similarly wide passage. The house lay dark and mostly quiet around them, although the clink of dishes could be heard from the kitchen area ahead. “This one leads to the family wing. Stop at the third landing and you’ll know where you are.”
“Thank you, Mary. We won’t be long.” She started up the stairs.
Lord Tensford did not immediately follow.
“Hurry on, sir,” Mary urged. “It’s best for everyone if you are not seen.”
Hope breathed a sigh of relief as his footsteps started after her.
“Whose house is this?” he whispered. “What in hell’s bells are you up to, young lady?”
She didn’t answer, just exited the stairway and counted doors until she found the right one, opened it and entered.
He stopped on the threshold.
She beckoned him in.
“I think I will require an explanation before I enter a young lady’s bedroom,” he said sardonically.
She crossed her arms. “I took a gamble bringing you here, Tensford. I did it because I know you are not Lord Terror, no matter what the ton says. I trust you. Now it is for you to decide. Do you trust me?”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, he stepped in. “If we are caught . . .”
“We will not be caught.” She closed the door behind him and turned up the two small lamps in the room. “This is the home of my friend, Miss Emma Atherton.”
“If you wished me to meet her—”
“That’s not why I brought you here,” she interrupted. “Miss Atherton is a fine young lady, but she and her family are away from Town, attending the Hadleigh fair.” She turned to him and put her hands on her hips. “I said I would prove to you that worthy young ladies do exist in the peerage. Miss Atherton is one, and she allowed me to set this up, so I could tell you about another. I want you to judge this girl’s heart, without the bias of family, connections, or money to interfere.”
“Anonymously,” he said.
“Yes.” Eagerly she gestured toward a writing desk. It was cluttered with fashion magazines, sketches, notes and letters. “I wanted to show you these. They belong to a young lady who was brought to London with her family, all save for a younger sister left at home. The younger girl is lame, you see. A withered leg, I believe. The light, diaphanous fashions of the last years put her at a disadvantage, emphasizing her uneven gait and crooked stance. It has made the girl shy about meeting people or appearing in public.”
“A shame.” He frowned. “She would do better to let it show without comment. If she treats it as matter-of-fact, others will too, eventually. Though it may take some time.” He shrugged. “In any case, there’s no use hiding.”
Was that what he was attempting, with the state of his own misfortunes? She’d seen the gentlemen talking with him earlier. Perhaps he
