SUCH WAS HER EUPHORIA THAT CALLIE WAS ALL THE way up the stairs and hurrying into the crowd of guests before she brought to mind that she had no one to tell the news. She paused, pushing the dangling plume from its favored position covering the right eyehole of her mask. All day she had felt benumbed, until she had discovered Mrs. Fowler's note, and then her determination to act on it had kept all other feelings at bay. But now the full impact of his absence came over her. It was nearly midnight; she couldn't even go to the duchesse. She experienced such a rapid descent in her emotion that she nearly stood there in the midst of the masqueraders and burst into tears.
"My lady." A gentleman spoke low, very near her ear.
Callie turned. Her mask and the plume obscured her vision, but that voice sent a shock of recognition down her spine.
"I've come for you," he said. He laid his hand on her arm.
She turned and saw him: masked, dressed in loose shirtsleeves, his collar open and a bloodred sash about his waist. He carried a sword in a glittering sheath, a real one-she recognized the elegant weapon that hung above the mantelpiece at Dove House. With his black hair and dark skin and a pair of yellow breeches thrust down inside his tall boots in the billowing Cossack style, he looked a corsair indeed.
She could have blurted out her news. It was her first thought, but hard on that came the memory of his leaving and what he had said to her. She stiffened, resisting his touch.
Guests nearby gave them curious glances, as well they might, for of all the costumes, his was the most simple and yet the most dramatic. Scandalous, without a waistcoat or cover for his shirt, with the muscle in his shoulders obvious and his collar points dangling carelessly down so that his throat and chest were half revealed. Dolly, in a small coterie of her friends, was staring openly.
"I'm shocked to see you here," she said, with more dignity than she could have summoned without a mask to hide her face.
He did not reply. He looked down at her, his mouth grim below the black mask tied across his eyes. The first notes of a waltz drifted above the crowd of guests. He caught her about the waist and swept her into the dance.
"I thought you were going elsewhere," she said, blowing the plume from her face as they turned.
Still he did not speak. Resentment began to rise in her, that he would come back again. Again! How many times was she to be teased and mocked? If he said again that he loved her, and that he must go away, she would scream. Perversely, she suddenly wanted to keep her hard-gained victory on his behalf to herself.
"To the devil, in fact," she added, lifting her chin.
"Oh yes," he murmured. "And this time I'm taking you with me."
Callie glanced up at him, tripping a little. He held her up in balance, turning them both to the music. Through the mask, his eyes glinted. She was already f lushed from the dance, but these words caused her to lose her breath for an instant.
Her agitation increased as she noticed Major Sturgeon coming toward them across the f loor. Her fingers tightened on Trev's shoulder. He glanced over her head and then gave a smile that was most piratical under the mask.
"Oh dear," she whispered. "Don't make a scene."
The smile vanished. He gazed down at her steadily. "Is that what you want? No scenes?"
As they swung and whirled to the music, his arms held her firmly but lightly, like a question. Another turn, and Callie saw the major again. He had stopped to let another couple dance past. She was having trouble finding her breath. Dolly and Hermey and Sir Thomas were standing along the edge of the f loor, all looking toward her. Lord Sidmouth also watched, tall and grave, without a mask to hide his stern features and f lyaway hair. With each circle, she realized that the audience to her waltz was growing, speculative glances and whispers behind fans. Callie felt herself shrinking. She was what she had dreaded to be all her life: the center of attention.
The music began to sweep to a close. Major Sturgeon reached them just as the orchestra ceased to play and a gong started to toll midnight. It was the signal for everyone to unmask, but instead, when the bell fell silent there was a frozen stillness; everyone paused and turned to look at Callie and her partner.
"Unhand my betrothed," the major said, his voice low but carrying in the weird quietness of the ballroom.
Trev ignored him. Instead he stood looking down at Callie. She was aware of her costume all disordered, her mask askew from the dance and her feathers fallen down. She must appear a ridiculous figure. But Trev tilted his head a little, an inquiry. "Make your choice, my lady," he murmured.
Her fingers rested on his open palm. The answer was hers to make: he would let her go in a moment.
Callie took a deep breath, in hopes of preventing herself from swooning on the spot. She turned to Major Sturgeon. He wasn't even looking at her; he was glaring through his mask at Trev, reaching for the weapon at his side. He appeared to have forgot that it was a scimitar of pasteboard.
"I beg your pardon," she said. Her voice seemed to catch, but she cleared her throat and pushed her mask up above her face as he glanced at her. "I beg your pardon, Major," she said, so much more strongly that her voice made an echo in the hushed room.
He turned to her, making a slight bow of acknowl edgment. "My lady. I must ask you to allow me the honor of escorting you to the refreshments."
"Thank you," she said, "but I wish-"
"Pray consider what you say, ma'am," he said in a warning tone.
"Major-"
"Do you not see where we are?"
"Major, I-"
His face was turning red. "Do not speak!" he hissed under his breath, so viciously that she drew back a little.
Trev's hand closed over hers. He stood beside her, regarding Callie with a faint quirk at the corner of his mouth. Then through the eyehole of his mask, he positively winked at her.
She gathered herself, giving one look around her at all the staring faces.
"Major Sturgeon," she said in a level, carrying voice, "I'm sorry to say that after all we should not suit. My affections are previously engaged."
In the silence that met her words, she bit her lip and brushed the feather back out of her eyes. Major Sturgeon stared at her, his mouth a hard, set line.
Trev pulled his mask down from his face. A ripple of sound went about the ballroom, faint murmurs of surprise and wonder.
With a slight, ugly laugh, the major said, "As you will, then, madam. I wish you joy of your bargain." He gave a short bow and turned his back on them, striding away with the crowd parting before him.
Someone began to clap enthusiastically. It was Hermey. Her fiancé joined her. Another took it up. Callie blinked around her, realizing with bewilder ment that everyone was applauding. Trev grinned and took her hand, bending deeply to kiss it. Then he pulled her close to him, as if to kiss her cheek, but instead he whispered fiercely in her ear, "We must go. No farewells, I'm sorry."
She let him lead her-if not quite drag her-past Hermey and Dolly and the other clapping guests, who seemed to be taking it all as part of the entertain ment. Even Dolly was applauding with a rather wild enthusiasm. She gave a frenzied wave toward the conductor, and the orchestra started up again, so that Callie and Trev made a grand exit to the rising strains of an Austrian galop.
He still had her by the hand when they reached the archway to the stable range. There he stopped and pulled her into his arms and kissed her until Callie was in danger of losing not only her feathers but her wits.
"We'll have to steal a horse, I fear," he said, letting go. "You've cast in your lot with me now; I hope you won't shy away from a felony here and there."
Callie lifted her foot to worry at a piece of gravel that had found its way into her slipper as they'd run pell-mell across the drive. "Steal a horse? Why?" She hopped on one leg, holding onto him for balance.
"We're in a great hurry, ma mie. You'll have to become accustomed to it, at least until we're out of England. Sit down." He pushed her onto the mounting block and reached down to pull her slipper free, shaking it out. But he paused in his great hurry long enough to slide his hand up her ankle. He lifted her stockinged foot and kissed the arch of it. "I adore your petticoats and bells, my love, but this is the last time you show them in public."
Callie retrieved her shoe from him. "Let's steal my horse," she suggested.
He gave a nod, rising. "A good notion," he said approvingly. "Strictly speaking, it won't be a crime, eh?"
She followed him into the shadow of the stable yard. "Where are we going?" she asked curiously.
"We're for Liverpool and the Boston packet," he answered, keeping his voice low. "I'm sorry you had no time to say your good-byes, but you can write from there."
"Very true," she agreed. "Hubert will want to know where I've gone."
He pulled her close to him again, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry. We'll find someplace for your cattle-some land. There's a great deal of land in America."
"So I understand," she said in an equitable voice. "Let me have the groom harness my mare to the gig. I'll drive out and pick you up at the archway.
He gave her a squeeze. "Intrepid girl."
"Certainly," she said. "I collect we're eloping?"
"We are," he said. "Unless you'd prefer it to be a forcible seizure. I don't know when we'll find a proper parson."
"Kidnapped from a masquerade!" she said with relish. "After I jilted my betrothed in front of a great crowd of people. On behalf of the editors of The Lady's Spectator, I thank you."
He laughed and straightened her feather. "Bring out our escape vehicle, you notorious female"-he kissed her on both of her eyelids-"before the Home Secretary remembers where he saw me last."
A few minutes later, still feeling satisfactorily rosy from the slight delay due to the need for further kisses in spite of the Home Secretary hot on their heels, she trotted her mare out of the stable yard, leaving a startled groom behind her. Trev swung up from the darkness and settled onto the seat beside her. He leaned over and kissed her again. He would have taken the reins, but Callie retained them, feeling that he might not drive quite straight while aff licted with this continued compulsion to kiss her. She f licked the whip and asked her horse to break into a brisk canter, sending up a spray of gravel as they f lew down the drive.
While Trev lounged back on the seat, his arm about her shoulders in a most warming manner, she allowed the mare to maintain this great pace as far as the gate lodge. There she reined in, for the trees shadowed the road and the moonlight was not as bright. The horse came to a halt before the closed gates. The lodge keeper stared up. "My lady, is it you? But-begging your pardon-where are you driving out at this hour?"
Callie looked over at Trev. "America, did you say?"
He leaned across her. "Or Shanghai, if you prefer it," he countered.
"You needn't leave the gates unlocked in that case," she informed the bemused gatekeeper as the gig rolled through. Outside, she turned the mare toward Shelford village.
"We'd best take the north road from here," Trev said. Their mingled breath frosted in the pale dark. "No need to go this direction."
"This is a short cut," Callie told him.
"Is it? Good. Damn, I'm a fool-I ought at least to have lifted a cloak for you on our way out. I don't think it would be wise to stop in Bromyard, except to leave your mare. But if you can endure it as far as Leominster, we'll take a chamber there. That's four teen miles or so."
"I'm not in the least cold," she said truthfully. Not while he was holding her close in this gratifying manner.
"You're a heroine," he said, kissing her neck. "Je t'adore."
She accepted this compliment calmly. "But pray, will you enlighten me… when last we spoke, you wished you had never seen me again."
"I was out of my mind," he explained. "I entirely blame your stockings."
She cast him a sideways glance.
He withdrew his arm and put his hand across her wrists, causing the mare to come to a walk. "Callie," he said, turning her face to him. His voice dropped harshly. "Do you understand-you won't even have your own money? Your father made certain of that long ago."
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-"
"Usually through a window," she interposed.
"-and you appear to have agreed that you would accompany me to Shanghai if you must-"
"With the greatest happiness," she concurred.
"-I wonder if I might prevail upon you to forgo some of the minor particulars of this plan, such as driving all night to Leominster and sailing to Boston in the dead of winter, in favor of the simpler expedient of sleeping in a warm bed here at Dove House tonight?"
Callie tilted her head, considering. "Well, I'd been hoping for a Chinese adventure, but if you're so poor spirited as to want to forgo storm and shipwreck…"
"Shabby of me, I must admit, but there's the added advantage that I'll be able to debauch you thoroughly before sunrise," he pointed out.
She gave a contented sigh. "I daresay your mother will be shocked."
"I daresay she'll be purring like a hat in a cream pitcher," he said. "And I must warn you that if you continue to giggle in that provocative manner, I shall be forced to accost you right here on a carriage seat, in my customary French scoundrel style. Drive on to the stable, my sweet life, before The Lady's Spectator catches us in the open."