But that touch, that lingering, gentle caress … Had that been a farewell or a blessing? Both, perhaps. She stared, unseeing, into the darkness. It had always been Alistair, all her life. Now, she had lost him for ever.
She shuddered, but it was not the cold that made her shiver, it was the thought that there was nowhere in London to get away from Alistair, and the knowledge that she could not bear to see him find someone else to marry and to live his life with.
In the end she was too cold to think properly. She went inside to where her mother was deep in conversation with two friends. ‘I thought St George’s, Hanover Square, and the wedding breakfast at Grosvenor Street. They’ll be going down to the house in south Devon, I expect, and then—Ah, Dita dear, I was wondering where you had got to.’
‘Mama, I’m sorry, but I am not feeling very well. I think I might have caught cold. May I take the carriage and send it back?’
‘You do look very pale, dear. I will come with you.’
Her mother swept her out with punctilious farewells to their hosts. ‘I do hope you have not got anything more than a slight chill,’ she said, tucking rugs around Dita in the carriage. ‘At this stage in the Season it would be such a pity to miss anything.’
‘I would like to go home, Mama. At once. To Combe.’
‘Home now? But why?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it, Mama.’ Her mother opened her mouth, but Dita pressed on. If she was asked any more questions or talked at, she felt she could not bear it. ‘Now Evaline is betrothed there is no reason for me to stay in town, is there? There is no one I am going to marry, Mama. I am sorry, but I am certain of it. I need time to decide what I want to do and I cannot think in London.’
Nor can I bear to dance and flirt and smile and watch Alistair make his choice. Much better to hear about it at a distance. When he brings his new bride home I can come back to town or go to Brighton or something. Anything. Her hand crept to her cheek where his had touched. Goodbye.
Dita straightened her shoulders and made herself sit up. She was not going to run away and mope for the rest of her life. She had money, she had contacts, there was a new life out there if she only had the strength to find it. Widows managed it when they had lost the men they loved and so could she. She just needed some peace to plan, that was all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alistair left it until eleven before he called. He had to tell her how he felt. It was hopeless, of course, if she was in love and not just telling him that to stop him insisting on their marriage. That it might be a ruse was the only thing that supported his spirits—until he remembered the tears on her cheeks. They had been so very real.
It was still far too early for a morning call, which properly, if illogically, should take place in the afternoon, but there was a limit to how much suspense he could take. Pearson answered the door. ‘Good morning, my lord. I regret that none of the family is at home this morning.’
‘None of them? I will return this afternoon.’
‘I believe it unlikely that they will be receiving today at all, my lord.’
What the devil was going on? The only thing he could think of was that Dita had announced that she wanted to marry whoever it was, her father had objected and a major family upset was in progress. The fact that she must be holding out would indicate that she was serious, he thought, striding down St James’s and into his club. It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.
The second day produced almost exactly the same result. ‘His lordship is at the House and is expected back very late. Her ladyship and Lady Evaline are, I believe, shopping, my lord, and will be going on to afternoon appointments. Lady Perdita is not receiving.’
Frustrated, Alistair reviewed his options, other than breaking and entering. He did have, if not a spy in the camp, a source of intelligence, he realised.
The note he had written to James Morgan brought the young man himself around to White’s in the early evening. ‘How may I be of service?’ he asked as they settled into chairs in a quiet corner of the library.
‘I need to know what is going on in the Brookes’ house,’ Alistair said. No point in beating around the bush. ‘Is Lady Perdita betrothed to someone, or is there a problem over some man?’
‘I don’t think so.’ James frowned. ‘But then, I haven’t seen Lady Evaline today as she had various obligations. I can ask her tomorrow though—I am hiring a curricle and taking her driving in the park. Of course, if it is very delicate, she might not be able to say anything.’ He hesitated. ‘You could ask Lady Perdita, perhaps?’
‘I would if she was receiving,’ Alistair said, almost amused by the way James struggled to keep the speculation off his face. ‘Never mind, I will call again tomorrow.’ And this time, if he was still refused, he was going to go in through the tradesmen’s entrance and find out, one way or another. But he had betrayed more than enough to his new secretary. ‘Do you enjoy the play?’ he asked. ‘We could go to the Theatre Royal and then on to some supper.’
Pearson looked decidedly uncomfortable to find Alistair on the doorstep at ten the next morning. ‘I am sorry, my lord, Lady Perdita is indisposed.’
‘Seriously?’ Alistair’s blood ran cold. Had Langham hurt her and she had said nothing at the time?
‘I could not say, my lord.’
The man was hiding something. Alistair smiled. ‘Please tell her I called.’ As soon as the door closed he went along the pavement to the area gate, down the steps into the narrow paved space and tried the handle of the staff door. It was unlocked.
‘Here, you can’t come through here! Oh. My lord …’ One of the footmen stared in confusion as Alistair nodded pleasantly to him and took the back stairs, up past the ground floor, on up to the first where the ladies had their sitting room.
The door was ajar and he walked in to find Evaline trimming a bonnet at the table. ‘Alistair!’
‘I need to talk to Dita,’ he said without preamble.