Regency Masquerade by Vera Loy Page A

Will had taken him a bottle of burgundy which he’d ordered and
left him to it.  The villain had then apparently crept upstairs and somehow
attacked Mr Hopgood.  The door to Frances’ room had been ajar and the
unconscious servant lying inside so that one could only assume that the villain
had broken in and been lying in wait for either Mr Francis or Mr Hopgood. 
After the brutal attack, the stranger had returned to the parlour, then come
out as bold as brass to announce that he could not wait any longer.
    Mrs
Cobb marvelled here at the cold callousness of a man who could act so calmly
after such villainy.  As for describing him, he was dark, large of stature and
had evil looking eyes.  The landlady was so carried away with the excitement
and horror of the event that Frances did not think her identification could be
relied on.  She herself had no doubts that it had been the Comte Duverne,
waiting to revenge himself on Louis Caron.  Somehow John must have taken the
blow meant for her.  Eventually she persuaded Mrs Cobb to return to the kitchen
and went back to her room to try and think what to do.  Her first thought, to
call on the Bow Street Runners, was dismissed immediately.  She was in no
position to invite investigation, nor was there any proof that the attacker had
indeed been the Comte Duverne.
    One
thing was certain, John would have to stay put at least for the next week.  She
was sure that she had been the intended victim and had no real fear that he
would attack her servant again.  Her next thought was to ask Carleton’s
advice.  She wondered a little at this for she was certainly well accustomed to
dealing with her own problems especially since her father had died, but the
idea persisted.  Perhaps he would know someone who could check on the Comte’s
movements without directly involving her.
    Lord
Carleton meanwhile had been having his own problems.
    He
had finally managed to invite Rosamond Lyle out for a drive in his phaeton, and
had been looking forward to it.  However once she was actually seated beside
him, he found she had little to say apart from commonplaces about the weather. 
She had no opinions about anything serious and when he did manage to engage her
in conversation it was about the ball she had last attended.  Eventually they
drew up outside her house and his groom hopped down to hold the horses’ heads
while he helped Rosamond to alight.  At the same time Jack Lambert strolled
around the corner on his way to call on Amanda and her cousin. 
    “Hullo
there Richard, and Rosamond, how charming you look this afternoon, your eyes
put the sky to shame!”  Carleton started to laugh at his friend’s exuberance
but then he caught sight of Rosamond’s blushing face.  She was smiling down at
Jack, a different person entirely than the one he had been driving around for
the past hour.  He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.  So, sits the
wind in that quarter he thought wryly, he’d had no inkling.  Thank heavens he
had not gone so far as to make her an offer, what if she had felt compelled to
accept it?   He plastered a polite smile on his face, declined an offer to come
into the house to pay his respects to Aunt Louisa and said instead that he must
see his horses settled. 
    When
Carleton heard his butler answer the door that evening, his first thought was
to deny his presence, he felt disinclined for company.  But when he heard it
was Peter Francis, curiosity changed his mind and asked the butler to show him
into the study.
    “Good
evening Peter, what can I do for you? I assume this is not a social call?”
    Frances
smiled briefly and admitted she had come for his advice.  “You said yesterday
that I could call on you, I hope you don’t mind.  When I returned to the inn
this evening I found my servant had been attacked, I think by the Comte
Duverne, though I have no proof.”
    “Your
servant?” he queried sharply.
    “Yes,
in mistake for myself I fancy.  The