The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory

trying not to fan the tiny spark of hope that refused to be extinguished. Whatever was decided, surely it would be better than this half-life she was living at present? Beside her, Lydia gave a little tut of exasperation.

      ‘It does not look as if the Tsar is going to appear. How tiresome! But we shall discover the truth tonight.’ Lydia sighed. ‘Such a lot of new faces, and James will expect me to know them all, for he will be inviting them to our ball! Well, Fee, my dependence is upon you to remember them, so that you can prompt me if I forget their names!’

      

      ‘So, James, what happened? Where was the Tsar?’ Lydia drew her husband into her private sitting room. ‘It is no good telling me you have been ordered to dine at Carlton House; you are not leaving until you tell us everything. Is that not so, Felicity?’

      ‘If you could spare us five minutes, Sir James, we would be grateful.’

      Her calm tone belied her impatience to know why Nathan had not been in the procession. Sir James allowed himself to be pulled down on to a sofa beside his wife.

      ‘Oh, very well. So you and Miss Brown watched the proceedings, did you?’

      Lydia shook his arm. ‘You know very well we did, sir, for you saw us there when you rode past. But what happened to the Tsar?’

      ‘Aye, well…’ Sir James shook his head. ‘We made good progress coming up from Dover. There were people lining the streets and hanging out of upstairs windows, all cheering, but the crowds were so thick as we came into London that the royals grew nervous.’ He tried and failed to hide his grin. ‘They ain’t used to the mob, you see. All the people wanted to do was to cheer their heroes, unbuckle the horses and draw the carriages through the streets themselves, but the sovereigns didn’t want it. Then someone took a pot-shot at the Tsar.’

      ‘No!’

      ‘Yes, my love. Only the shot went wide and hit Rosthorne instead.’

      ‘Was—was he badly hurt?’ Felicity asked, her hands straying to her cheeks.

      Sir James laughed. ‘Not at all, but the bullet took his hat clean off! I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, for he was obliged to set off after the Emperor, who was determined to join his sister.’

      ‘At the Pulteney.’ Lydia nodded sagely. ‘You said he might do that.’

      ‘Did I, by heaven?’ exclaimed Sir James. He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘What a clever little puss you are to remember that! Well, I hope he’s comfortable there. The Lord Chamberlain, two bands and I don’t know how many others had been waiting since dawn to receive him, then Rosthorne sends a message to say Tsar Alexander came into town by way of the turnpike at Hyde Park Corner and would be staying at the Pulteney. Prinny is as mad as fire, of course, but forced to put on a brave face. That is why I must go now, my love. His Highness is not in the best of moods, so it will not do for me to be late!’

      ‘Poor James,’ said Lydia, kissing his cheek. ‘I think these celebrations are going to be anything but peaceful! But I must confess a desire to see this Emperor of Russia. Will he be at Lady Stinchcombe’s ball tomorrow night, do you think?’

      ‘He has certainly been invited; we must see if Rosthorne can bring him up to scratch!’

      Felicity looked up to find Lydia giving her a rueful glance.

      ‘Then I regret I must ask you to come out with me again tomorrow, Fee—I cannot wait for James to finish his interminable meetings before going to the ball.’

      Felicity nodded. Inside, she was aching to see for herself that Nathan was unhurt. Tomorrow night could not come soon enough.

      

      The carriage turned into a cobbled street off Piccadilly and pulled up outside a pretty red-brick house set back in its own grounds. Lady Stinchcombe greeted them warmly.

      ‘There is no ceremony here tonight,’ she said gaily. ‘The Emperor sent Lord Rosthorne to make his apologies, but we shall do our best to enjoy ourselves without him. Wander where you will, although the garden illuminations will not be at their best until it is properly dark.’

      ‘I suppose we should wait until the last of the daylight has gone before we look at the gardens,’ said Lydia. She led the way towards the card room. ‘Have a care, Fee,’ she murmured, pausing in the doorway. ‘Rosthorne is here.’

      Grateful for the warning, Felicity stayed in Lydia’s shadow as she followed her into the room. She spotted the earl almost immediately. He was playing picquet with another gentleman while a crowd of admiring ladies stood at his shoulder, vying for his attention.

      ‘Poor man, how very distracting for him.’

      Hearing Felicity’s comment, a gentleman standing near them gave a laugh.

      ‘There’s no distracting Rosthorne! Even being shot at don’t make him turn a hair. Some dashed fool nearly blew his head off yesterday.’

      ‘Aye, I heard about that.’A bewigged man in a faded frockcoat nodded. ‘Pretty wild shot if it missed the Tsar and hit Rosthorne. Who did it, some drunken lunatic?’

      ‘They didn’t catch him,’ replied the first man. ‘He got away in the crowd. Made no odds to Rosthorne, he merely followed on after the Tsar.’

      ‘He is very brave,’ murmured Lydia.

      The bewigged man shrugged. ‘Rosthorne’s a soldier. He thought nothing of it. Ruined a perfectly good hat, though.’

      Pride flickered through Felicity. Of course Nathan would think nothing of the danger. He did not know the meaning of fear. Lydia took her arm.

      ‘Even so, we shall not add to the distraction,’ she murmured. ‘Let us move on to the music room.’ She patted Felicity’s hand. ‘My dear, what is this? You are shaking.’

      ‘I am a little shocked to hear of such violence,’ whispered Felicity. ‘Pray do not mind me, Lydia; let us go on.’

      She was being irrational, she told herself. Nathan had been in danger any number of times when he was a soldier, so why should the news of this incident affect her so? She chewed her lip. Because it was here, in London, where one did not expect such things. She glanced back at Nathan, sitting at the card table.

      And because she still cared for him.

      

      They wandered into the next room where Miss Stinchcombe was performing upon the harp. As the final notes died away and they applauded her performance, Felicity saw Gerald Appleby approaching them.

      ‘Lady Souden, how do you do! And Miss Brown. A delightful evening, is it not? Mama is sitting over there by the window, may I take you over? I know she will want to talk to you…’

      He led them across the room, chatting all the time until they came up to Lady Charlotte, who greeted Lydia with a regal smile. Felicity she acknowledged with no more than a flicker of her cold eyes before engaging Lady Souden in conversation. Felicity gave an inward shrug and would have moved away, but Mr Appleby stopped her.

      ‘How are you enjoying the music, Miss Brown?’

      ‘Very well, sir, thank you.’

      ‘I think the harp very over-rated and much prefer the pianoforte,’ he continued, smiling at her. ‘Do you play at all, Miss Brown?’

      ‘The pianoforte, a little.’

      ‘Ah, all young ladies say they only play a little and then they perform the most complicated pieces for us. Shall we have the pleasure of hearing you this evening, ma’am?’

      ‘No, Mr Appleby, I do not play in public.’

      ‘What, never? But why? This must be remedied immediately,’ he cried gaily.

      Felicity tried to step away but found the wall at her back. ‘No, I assure you, sir—’

      He took