“Oh, Miss Viola.” Withers wiped a tear from his eye, meeting her at the door. “It’s truly miraculous. It’s something about this house, I think. I haven’t seen him like this since the old days, in Paris, when the music flowed from him in waves. He’s so close now. Only a few more hours. He’s played some parts of it for me and I can imagine the rest. It’s going to be magnificent.”

“Has he been eating?”

“Voraciously.”

“He hasn’t been asking for me? I’ve been so preoccupied.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. He said something funny the other day, about how you were off courting the duke, or cavorting with the duke, or something like that. I’m sure I misunderstood him.” Withers glanced at her sharply. “Correct?”

“Of course. I’ve been preparing the young ladies for the musicale.”

And cavorting with the duke.

“History is being made here in this house, Miss Beaton. And I will be here to witness it.”

A knock sounded on the door and West appeared, looking just as disheveled and sleep deprived as she felt. “Viola, I must speak with you.”

“You honor us, Your Grace.” Withers bowed. “Should I order some refreshment?”

“What is it, Your Grace?” Viola remembered to use his title at the last moment.

His eyes were shadowed and his face grim. “It wasn’t Blanche we should have been worrying about,” he said urgently. “It was Belinda.”

“What do you mean?”

“Please, just come with me. I’ll explain everything on the way. You’ll want a warm cloak and gloves. We’re taking my curricle. I have a coach following behind.”

Viola collected her things and rushed out of the house. West helped her into the curricle and spurred his matched set of bay horses to motion.

“What’s all this about?” Viola asked. “Where are we going? West, you’re scaring me.”

He urged the horses onward, swerving to avoid a collision. “Damn these farm carts. We must go faster!”

“West.” Viola tugged at his sleeve. “The poor horses are going as fast as they can in this crush. Slow down a little and tell me what’s happened.”

“Laxton’s abducted Belinda. Only she thinks she’s eloped with him and they’re to be married.”

“No,” Viola gasped. “It can’t be true.”