Because he always made it his business to know the details about anything and anyone in whom he was interested, this afternoon he had, when he left White’s, gone to a bookshop to find out if there were any publications about shops and their assistants.

He had an account with several bookshops, but the nearest to White’s was John Hatchards at 190 Piccadilly.

He was the bookseller to Queen Charlotte, while Nicoll at Pall Mall was patronised by the King.

As the Earl expected, the shop was filled with a number of men and women from the Social world and a number who were not, most of them talking to each other while they imbibed cups of coffee.

The Earl was immediately recognised by John Hatchard, who hurried to bow respectfully his pleasure at receiving his Lordship in person.

Although he regularly bought a number of books, they were usually ordered by his secretary and delivered to Hellington House.

The Earl told John Hatchard what he required.

“That is not a difficult request, my Lord,” Mr. Hatchard replied. “I have here William Abbott’s Reminiscences of an old Draper and there is quite a lot about shopkeepers who range from grocer to cheesemonger and to men-milliners in Cranford by Mrs. Gaskell.”

The Earl glanced at the books and decided that they would tell him a little of what he wished to know and ignored Mr. Hatchard’s expostulations when he said, instead of having them delivered, he would take them with him.

He had driven back home to peruse what he had bought and now, seeing the women leaving the shop staring at him with surprise and curiosity, he thought it was unlikely they had ever had what the servants called a ‘follower’ waiting for them at the back door.

They continued to turn their heads even when they had reached the end of the street, but the Earl waited, feeling it was unlikely that Thalia would leave by the front door.

In this he was correct, for ten minutes after Mrs. Burton’s other employees had left, she stepped out into the street.

She was wearing the concealing grey bonnet that she had worn in Genevieve’s bedroom and, because her head was bent as she closed the door behind her, she did not see who was waiting.

It was the horses that caught her eye first and then, as her head went up to stare at them, the Earl was in front of her blocking her view.

“Good evening, Miss Carver!”

For a moment it seemed as if, because she was so astonished to see him, she could not find the words to reply. Then she responded in the low musical voice that he remembered,

“Good evening, my Lord.”

She made an effort to proceed, but with the Earl blocking her way, it was not easy.