“Yes, Deele visited your brother after Mulholland met with him. I can only imagine Mulholland told him about seeing Miss Grant in your drawing room. There was no use sending a note to you because they left almost immediately, and so I followed.”

“What about Mulholland?” I asked.

Kent shook his head. “I don’t know, but I could not leave you and Lady Julia to face Deele alone. Well, I thought you were alone.” He eyed Evan. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for the doctor from the duel.”

I frowned, trying to rapidly piece together the reasons behind these unlikely alliances. “I think we must assume Mulholland is here too. Why else would he send Deele here to flush out Hester? She is bait for you.”

“But he doesn’t know I am here,” Evan said. “For all he knows, I am still in London.”

“My darling,” I said, “wherever Hester is, you are, too, or soon will be. Mulholland knows that.”

He considered the logic. “That gives a lot of credit to him. Do you really think he is that strategic?”

“I do. Or if not Mulholland, then whoever is pulling his strings.”

“I did not see him or any of his men following,” Mr. Kent said. “But I think you are right.”

Evan waved away the problem of Mulholland. “Whether he is here or not, I do not care. Hester and Miss Grant must be our priority. If Deele gets hold of Hester he will not let her go, and as her legal guardian, he has the law upon his side.”

“Deele is pursuing Lady Hester in his coach. Lady Julia sent me to find you to bring you back as quickly as possible.”

Evan shook his head. “Too much time will be wasted if we return to Davenport Hall. I must go after my brother now.”

“Your horses are spent,” Mr. Kent said. “You’ll have to change them before we start our search.”

Evan glared at Kent, the fear for his sister warring with practicality. Finally, he nodded. “We’ll change horses.”

“We will do better than that,” I said with some anticipation. “We’ll take Charlotte’s racing phaeton.”

33

The stables were lit up with lamps and torches when we finally clattered tiredly across the cobbles. I did not wait for a groom but dismounted upon the mounting block, my back aching and my legs a little wobbly. I had not ridden for such an extended time in a long while. I stroked Callista’s warm muzzle, murmuring my thanks, then handed her reins to the groom who had emerged from the stables.

I stretched into a burning backward arch—both unladylike and mortifyingly stiff—finding brief relief for my muscles, then turned to see Evan and Mr. Kent also on the ground. Evan had handed over his horse for the stable, but Kent had given one of the grooms Caesar’s reins to walk him around the yard to keep warm.

“Augusta!”