Miss Grantham, who had been looking pensive for some minutes, now took a decision of her own, and said with strong suggestion of a laugh in her voice: “Well, that is settled! You will come home with me, my dear, and we will make up our minds presently what is to be done for the best Adrian, can we slip out of the gardens unobserved?”
He threw her a warm look of gratitude. “There is no on like you, Deb! I knew you would not fail! Trust me, I will take you out by the gate at this end of the place!”
It was plain that his confident air greatly impressed Miss Laxton. To her, he appeared as the god in the machine, and she seemed content to leave her fate in his hands. It was left however, to Miss Grantham to arrange the more practical detail of the escape, and this she did by directing his lordship return to their box for her cloak, and to inform Mr Kennet and Mrs Patch that she had the migraine, and was returning home immediately.
While he was performing this errand, the two ladies remained in the summer-house, Miss Laxton quite dazed by her unexpected rescue, and Miss Grantham weaving plans in her head which might have surprised, though possibly not displeased, her companion, had she been aware of them.
Adrian returned presently with Miss Grantham’s cloak, and his own roquelaure. Miss Grantham wrapped Miss Laxton up in the cloak, which was by far too big for her, and drew the hood up over her pale curls. She herself accepted the roquelaure, informing his lordship that knight-errantry entailed sacrifice. They then made their way out of the gardens, without encountering any acquaintances, took sculls across to Westminster, and there picked up a hackney, which carried them safely to St James’s Square. Here his lordship took leave of them, promising, however, to call early on the following morning. He kissed both their hands on the doorstep, and Miss Laxton said shyly that she did not know how to thank him for all his kindness. Miss. Grantham, who thought privately that if matters had been left to his lordship, Miss Laxton would have been allowed to sob her heart out in the summer-house while he beat a strategic and alarmed retreat, waited indulgently for this touching leave-taking to come to an end, and did not knock on the door until his lordship had said his last farewell.
Silas Wantage, opening the door to admit his mistress, looked with surprise at the muffled figure of her companion, and directed an inquiring glance at Deborah. “Now, what’s to do?” he asked.
“I have brought a friend home with me, Silas. Are there many here tonight?”
“There’s a few. Don’t tell me you’re not up to your tricks again, Miss Deb, for I wouldn’t believe you!”
“Never mind that!” said Miss Grantham, with the quiver of a smile. “You need not tell anyone that I am in the house. I don’t mean to go into the saloons tonight. Tell Betty I want her in my bedchamber immediately! Come, my dear. We will slip up the backstairs, and no one will see you. Oh, Silas, remember! There was no one with me when I came home!”
“No one with you,” repeated Mr Wantage obediently. “You’ll be happy when you end in gaol, I dare say, but I won’t, and that’s the truth! Oh well! Be off with you, missie, and trust old Silas!”