Damsel in Distress by Joan Smith

they could be.”
    “That is as much as I could discover.”
    “You have done well. How on earth did Lady Helen escape her chaperon? You may be sure Dolmain has no idea she is here. Let us follow them when they leave and make sure she gets home safely.”
    “She ain’t wearing any diamonds, if that is what concerns you.”
    Caroline blinked. “Are you hinting that this Bernard fellow is the thief? What an interesting idea!”
    “Except he wasn’t at Castlereagh’s last night. Never saw him before. Pity they was all rattling off the bongjaw. I could not make heads or tails of what they was saying.”
    “Helen’s mama was French,” Caroline said, wondering if this was of any importance. How could it be? The lady had been dead for over five years. And as she had left England in 1802, when Helen was only seven years old, the girl would have very little recollection of her mama. No, this was all irrelevant. The necklace had disappeared in Lady Castlereagh’s parlor last night.
    “Let us have your carriage called and wait outside to follow Lady Helen when she comes out,” Caro suggested.
    “Sure you have had your fill of low life? Mean to say, you have not had a jig yet.”
    “Another time. This is more important.”
    “Just as you wish,” Newt said. He took an uninterested look around and said, “A dandy place.” Then he finished off one glass of wine, looked unhappily at the nearly full bottle, and rose.
    He had his carriage called and ordered his groom to wait half a block down Oxford Street, ready to follow when he gave the signal. It was not long before a blue domino came out, accompanied by Bernard but no chaperon.
    “That’s them right enough,” Newt said, and gave the drawstring a jerk to signal his groom to follow the carriage.
    “Imagine the chaperon letting that child go unaccompanied in a carriage with a strange man,” Caro scolded. Despite her disgust with Dolmain, she could not let his innocent young daughter fall into the hands of some roué. After her experience with Dolmain, her sentiments were all on the side of innocent ladies.
    “We don’t know he’s strange,” Newt pointed out. “Mean to say, he might be a cousin for all we know.”
    “That is true, but we shall keep close behind them. If he tries to spirit her off — ”
    Newt reached into the side pocket and drew out a pistol. “I always come prepared,” he said.
    “An excellent idea. Julian told me I should always keep a pistol in the carriage.”
    It was almost a letdown when the carriage proceeded at a stately pace directly toward Lord Dolmain’s mansion on Curzon Street. It stopped half a block away, however. Newt’s groom pulled to a stop at the corner. They waited for five minutes, the tension mounting higher by the moment. Caro was struck with awful images of the poor girl struggling with an amorous man .
    “I am going to see what is happening, ” she declared, and opened the door.
    Just as she alit, the other carriage door opened and the man assisted Helen from the rig. Caro was overcome with curiosity. She wanted to learn what was passing between the two. She scanned the dark street, and thought she might approach Dolmain’s house without being seen in her dark domino. She would not walk on the street, but stay close to the two intervening houses. By running, she reached the house next door to Dolmain’s before Helen and her companion. A stand of tall yews grew in front of the house. She darted behind it, just at the outer edge of the house, and listened.
    The conversation between Lady Helen and her friend was by no means amorous. “You are sure she is all right?” Helen asked in a worried voice. She spoke French, but Caro caught the gist of it. “She can come to London, now that she has the money?”
    “She will be here soon.”
    “How soon? When can I expect her?”
    “Very soon. We shall be in touch. You must go now. Be brave, ma petite. ” He squeezed her fingers and left. Caroline waited, wondering