“Any idea where they might be heading?” Kent asked.

“None,” I said. “Hester has been talking of leaving the country, but I do not see where that might lead them.”

“Holyhead,” Charlotte said, with a decisive nod. “It is a long way but maybe they are trying to get to Ireland. They would be able to find passage at Holyhead.”

Evan considered Charlotte’s theory. “I agree leaving the country will be their goal. And if they did not go in the other direction to Liverpool, then Holyhead is, indeed, the rational choice.”

“That is something we do know about Miss Grant,” Julia said. “She is a rational woman.”

“Finally,” Charlotte said, motioning to the fully harnessed phaeton. “Augusta, it is ready.”

Charlotte’s perch phaeton was a sleek four-wheeled, two-horse affair, with only one nod to propriety: a groom’s seat set behind the two-person high-slung cabin. Not that Charlotte and I ever brought one of the grooms along with us on our jaunts. Frankly, the carriage was too light and too fast, and one had to corner carefully if one did not wish to upend the entire equipage. An adventure every time we took it out.

“You are going to drive that?” Mr. Kent asked.

“Indeed, she is,” Charlotte said. “Augusta is as good with the reins as I am.” Quite some endorsement, since Charlotte was an acclaimed driver.

I drew Julia to one side by her arm. “I do not think you should come. I’ll take Weatherly.”

“What?” She frowned under the stiffened curve of her bonnet visor. “Do not be ridiculous. Of course I am coming. I am to blame as much as you are for their flight—perhaps even more so after that stupid Weymouth business. We took on the responsibility of their safety and we have patently failed. We need to find them and then find somewhere truly safe for them.”

“Blame? Really, Julia, neither of us is to blame,” I said, then waved away my irritation; it was no time to argue that point. “Frankly, you are not well enough for the pursuit, dearheart. Lord Evan says that those blue mass tablets you are taking are poisoning you.”

Julia eyed me, her mouth pursed. “Poisoning me? Why would Dr. Thorgood give me something that would poison me?”

“Because he does not know it is poison. No one does.”

“Then how does Lord Evan know?”

A good question. It was, after all, just a hypothesis. “He read about it in a medical paper.” Clearly not enough evidence for my sister, for her jaw had shifted into Colebrook mulishness. “Do not give me that look, Julia. Even if it has just the smallest possibility of being true, you must stop taking them.”

“You are always telling me what to do,” my sister snapped. She shook off my hand and walked to the carriage. “What I must do is get into this phaeton and find Lady Hester. Are you going to drive or not?”