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A footman opened the carriage door, offering his hand to assist their descent.

As Honoria stepped down, her heart was ready to jump out of her chest, her hands shaking in trepidation, fear, and excitement.

As they entered the grand ballroom, Honoria’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know what she expected of the masquerade ball, but it was grander than she’d ever imagined. The place was filled with flowers, candles, statues and even fountains. People, bathed in the golden light, moved in time with the music. Along the walls, others watched the proceedings while sipping on their drinks. Some were so emboldened by their hidden identities, they were involved in scandalous activities, right there in front of everyone.

They moved deeper into the throng, scanning the crowd. The viscount—Lydia’s former beloved and the target of tonight’s mission—was supposed to be waiting near the entrance, but there was no sign of him.

Honoria’s gaze swept the room, taking in the elaborate decorations, the musicians on the dais, the servants weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne, the Earl of Caldwell standing flanked by three gentlemen—

What?

She stopped cold, her gaze fixed on her employer.

It was unmistakably him! Unlike the other men, he wore his spectacles instead of a mask, and his jaw was darkened with several days’ growth of beard. He looked tired, almost haggard, and entirely out of place amid the revelry.

“Oh, no!” Honoria gasped, her hand shooting out to grasp Lydia’s arm.

What was he doing here?

Her heart hammered against her ribs with such violence she feared it might be visible through her bodice. He detested balls, the loud music, and the crowds. He had avoided scenes like this like the plague. Yes, he had rejoined society at his aunt’s insistence, but this masquerade was nothing like the respectable events the marchioness had him attend.

Yet there he was. Did he have to go out on the very night Honoria made her escape?

What if Rosie had a nightmare again and came looking for him? She would then go looking for Honoria and find her room empty as well.

Oh, no, would she see the letters? Would she bring them to Elise to read in the middle of the night when Caldwell would not be there to reassure and comfort them? When the nanny and governess slept blissfully?

Blast!

“What’s wrong? Do you see Art?” Lydia asked, her gaze following Honoria’s fixed stare.

“No!” Honoria exclaimed, horror tightening her throat. “The earl! My employer is here.”

Lydia frowned, clearly puzzled by Honoria’s reaction. “So what?”

“You don’t understand! He can’t be here. He doesn’t know I am here.” The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper.

“Yes, and he still won’t know because he won’t recognize you,” Lydia reassured her. “Nobody will.”

Honoria squeezed Lydia’s arm and dragged her toward the edge of the hall, away from the crush of bodies. “You don’t understand,” she hissed, anxiety making her voice sharp. “I didn’t know he would be here. I never leave the house at night if I think he might be away. Little Rosie has nightmares.”

“What are you on about?” Lydia’s brows knit.

Honoria let out a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself enough to explain. “One of the earl’s wards, the youngest one—she has nightmares and always looks for him at night. If she can’t find him, she comes to me.”

“And she will tell him in the morning that you were gone?” Lydia spread her arms, clearly confused. “Why does it matter? We shall be gone from London by then.”

“Because!” Honoria cried, then lowered her voice as a passing couple glanced their way. She turned her face to her friend. “Lydia, I care about those people. I care about little Rosie. I don’t want her to suffer. She will be so scared.”

Lydia studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “Well, you can’t go back now. It’s too risky. Besides, we are leaving in less than an hour.”

Honoria nodded distractedly, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, her gaze never leaving the earl’s tall figure across the room. “Then I’ll persuade him to leave.”

“No.” Lydia shook her head emphatically, then repeated with more force, “No! How are you going to do that?”

Honoria nervously smoothed her skirts. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should leave it alone then,” Lydia suggested, her voice softening. “It’s not your responsibility anymore.”