She felt much colder when he sat away from her. "Did he?"
"Aye, he was pleased to inform me that your trust was made ironclad to protect you from fortune hunting scoundrels." In the moonlight she could see a derisive smile curl his lips. "Taking myself as the pattern and type."
"He didn't yet know Major Sturgeon, I suppose."
"And we'll be living abroad," he said doggedly. "I can't bring you back to see your sister or Shelford or England. And I don't keep respectable company. I've money enough, but-"
"Are you trying to make me jilt you too?" she demanded.
"No, damn it all, but you ought to."
"Yes," she mused, "I should return to the masquerade and announce that I've changed my mind and prefer after all not to be forcibly seized. Doubtless that would make heads spin even on the editors of The Lady's Spectator."
"I daresay they'd thank you for the increase in their circulation numbers, at any rate."
She clucked the mare to a trot. "I feel they've been given adequate stimulation. As for me, I should like to break it off with you, of course, after having discov ered these dismaying facts, but it was such great fun to jilt Major Sturgeon that I daren't encourage that sort of fickle behavior in myself."
He fell silent. The mare splashed through a puddle, and Callie allowed her to slow again on the muddy track. "This is Dove Lane," he said, as if he had just noticed it.
"Yes, and I hope it will dry a little by morning," she said. "Lord Sidmouth intends to pay a call on your mother tomorrow, if he isn't kept up too late at the masquerade."
Trev sat bolt upright. "Sidmouth?"
"The Home Secretary, you know."
"He intends to call…? Good God, has that Runner been to see him? Why the devil is Sidmouth to call here?" Then he stopped and said in an appalled voice: "Did Emma Fowler tell him I was here?"
"No, nothing of that sort," Callie said soothingly. "I mentioned to him that your mother has been feeling ill and very low about you, and he thought that perhaps a visit from him might raise her spirits."
"Are you mad?" They had halted at the garden gate in front of Dove House. Moonlight shone dimly on the whitewashed fence and the silvery rose canes. "Callie, don't stop here," he hissed. "She's asleep. She knows I can't come back. For the love of God, let us go and be done with it. "
"I have something to say to her."
He closed his eyes and took a breath. "I won't prevent you," he muttered in a constricted voice, "but we'd best be damned quick about it, if Sidmouth's in the way of things."
She had been enjoying to the full her oppor tunity to serve him back some of his own sauce, but seeing his anguish, Callie relented. "Perhaps I should tell you too," she said. "Before we go all the way to America."
"Well?" he asked gruff ly. "What is it? You prefer somewhere closer. Italy? I warn you that it won't make much difference, except that perhaps you might be able to make a visit on your own now and again."
"I really don't think we need leave England at all, unless you very much wish to do so."
He shook his head. "I knew you didn't truly under stand what it would mean to go with me."
"I know you suppose I'm a f lat-"
"A pea-goose, damn it," he corrected. "Flat is a vulgar canting word."
She cocked an eye at him. "Perhaps you should teach me some cant, as we're not planning to keep respectable company," she suggested.
"No," he said in smothered outrage.
"A pea-goose, then," she said mildly, "but as I was saying-since Lord Sidmouth comes tomorrow to tell your mother that you're going to receive a full and unconditional pardon, and I understand that the climate in Shanghai is not entirely salubrious, I was thinking perhaps we could take a look at property in the neighborhood of Hereford instead."
He took her hands. "Ma chérie," he said gently, "you must know it's not possible-what did you say?"
"I said that Lord Sidmouth is going to give you a full and unconditional pardon."
He let go of her. There was a long and charged silence, with only the sound of the mare's soft snorting breath and the creak of a wheel on the gig.
"He gave his word on it," she added, feeling a little uneasy now that she had pushed her amusement to the limits of what any reasonable man might be expected to bear. "Because the evidence of your innocence is now overwhelming."
"Now overwhelming?" he repeated blankly. "When did he discover this?"
"Only an hour ago, perhaps."
"Don't jest with me. It's not a topic I find amusing. And don't suppose you can hoax me, either."
"It's not a hoax. I merely asked Mrs. Fowler several questions, and she wrote a sample of her handwriting on a card, and-well, perhaps she wasn't aware that Sir Thomas and the Home Secretary were witnessing what she said." She wriggled uncomfortably. "It might have been a bit dark in the corners of the dry laundry, and so she didn't see them. And you're right, Trev, I may be a pea-goose, but she's a… a veritable saphead. If you could have read the letter she wrote to you! That folded-up one you wouldn't touch, and I can't blame you for it. She's forged a second note of hand, and she wrote all about it to you, saying that you had taken the blame for her before and in hopes you would help her to escape England this time, and so you see, when the invitation ticket she wrote matched the handwriting in the note-and Lord Sidmouth heard what she said-" Her voice trailed off.
He was sitting beside her, his body very, very still.
"I hope you're not angry," she said. "She was allowed to f lee."
"Who arranged this?" he asked in a strange voice.
"Well, I suppose-one could say-that I arranged it," she admitted rather nervously. He did not seem to be as glad as she had hoped he would be.
"When?"
"Just today. This evening."
"After I left you."
She nodded, though it was dark.
"A full pardon?" he asked again. "Unconditional?"
"Yes. Lord Sidmouth gave me his word."
"A full pardon?" he repeated and shook his head as if he found the very idea alarming.
"I think he has the power to arrange such matters."
"Oh, he does," Trev said harshly. "They sit at that table in council and decide life and death at their whim after every session. I don't doubt he has the power to arrange it. It's only that-" He stopped and scowled at her in the dim moonlight. "This puts a new complexion on matters."
She regarded him doubtfully. The night seemed to have grown colder. A faint shiver ran through her. She couldn't quite discern from the tone of his voice exactly what the new complexion on matters might be. He might wish to reconsider his position. He might even wish to reconsider marrying her at all. Now that he was a free man, he might want to find some other heiress, one who wouldn't have so readily agreed to accompany him to Shanghai. She bent her head, preparing herself to appear perfectly unconcerned if he should suddenly become unworthy to abduct her.
"For one thing," he said, "it means we don't have to drive fourteen miles to Leominster and arrive looking as if we took a wrong turn at the Barbary Coast."
"I rather like you as a pirate," she said shyly.
"I assure you, Mademoiselle, my feelings about you as a harem girl are beyond description," he informed her. "But I don't arrange a very good abduction, I'm afraid. In my haste to seize you and carry you off to the ends of the earth, I seem to have forgotten a few of the important articles. Such as baggage."
"It was a perfect abduction," she declared. "Pray do not carp about the details."
"No doubt the press will add such embellishments as are required to satisfy the public taste. And since I had already determined that my life is a vast wasteland without you, in spite of my best and repeated efforts to abscond like a worthless cad-"