In her hurry she was over the threshold before she realized her mistake. She gave a gasp and stared round her. She was standing in a narrow hall-way, not in her own house, nor any like it, and the lackey, even now in the act of shutting the door, was no servant of Rule’s.
She turned quickly. “There is a m-mistake,” she said. “Open the d-door, please!”
A step sounded behind her; she looked over her shoulder and saw Lord Lethbridge.
“A thousand welcomes, my lady!” Lethbridge said, and flung open the door of the saloon. “Pray enter!”
She stood perfectly still, dawning anger struggling with the bewilderment in her face. “I don’t understand!” she said. “What does this m-mean, sir?”
“Why, I will tell you, ma’am, but pray come in!” Lethbridge said.
She was aware of the silent lackey behind her; one could not make a scene before servants. After a moment’s hesitation, she walked forward, and into the saloon.
It was lit by a great many candles, and at one end of the room a table was laid with a cold supper. Horatia frowned. “If you are giving a p-party, sir, I assure you I was not invited, and d-don’t mean to stay,” she announced.
“It is not a party,” he replied, shutting the door. “It’s for you and me, my dear.”
“You must be mad!” said Horatia, gazing at him in perplexity. “Of c-course I would never c-come to supper with you alone! If you asked me, I vow I never knew of it, and I c-can’t imagine why my coachman set me down here.”