I curtsied to her diffidently but did not speak. I should only answer when asked a direct question.

“I have not tasted such splendid food in an age,” she continued. “A fine treat.”

I nodded my thanks, attempting to keep my eyes averted as a proper servant ought, but I shot her a glance of curiosity. I had no idea who she was, but from the way she hung on Cynthia’s arm, the two were close friends.

The lady studied me with openness, but in a far more courteous manner than the lorgnette woman. Another difference between this lovely lady and the others in the room was that she spoke directly to me and used my name.

Mrs. Bywater seemed to think I’d had enough praise for one night. “Thank you, Mrs. Holloway,” she said in a tone that meant I was dismissed.

I curtsied to the company, darted a last look at Cynthia’s friend, and walked sedately from the room. No scurrying back to my hole. I departed with my head high, dignity in place, accepting the praise for my hard work without false modesty.

I could have wished for a coin or two, however. Compliments are all very well, but shillings and pence are far more welcome.

*   *   *

Not until after midnight did I have the chance to hang up my apron, scrub my hands and face in the scullery sink, don coat and hat, and depart to meet Daniel.

February rain poured outside, rendering the night cold and dank. I pulled on gloves and ducked my head against the spattering drops as I hurried into the street.

Little traffic, foot or carriage, roamed on this wet night, the residents of Mount Street wisely remaining indoors. I too ought to have stayed at home to snatch a few hours of sleep, giving Daniel my apologies when I saw him again.

It was a testimony to my curiosity and my fondness for Daniel that I scurried, head bowed, along South Audley Street toward Grosvenor Chapel. James had told me his father would await me there.

I doubted James meant in the chapel itself, which was shut. I made my way along a passage that edged the graceful church and ended at a gate to a green.

I hoped Daniel did not wish to have a conversation on the grass. It was dreadfully wet, and I felt a sneeze coming on.

“Kat.”

He was behind me. I swung around, dismayed by how lighthearted Daniel’s voice rendered me. I told myself this was because I had not seen him in many weeks, and I naturally was glad to see him.

He stood in an open doorway, outlined by light, which proved the chapel was not shut entirely.

“My dear Kat, come in out of the rain,” Daniel said, reaching for me. “Next time, tell James you wish me to the devil and stay home.”