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Where the hell was Hyacinth?

Was she in danger? It was late, and even though they were in one of the most expensive and exclusive areas of London, thieves and cutthroats ht still be about, and—

No, she couldn’t have fallen prey to foul play Not here He would have heard so A scuffle A shout Hyacinth would never be taken without a fight

A very loud fight

Which could only mean…

Sheabout Mary Winthrop and run off Damn the woman She should have had more sense than that

Gareth let out an aggravated grunt as he planted his hands on his hips and scanned the area She could have dashed hoht different ways, probably more if one counted all the alleys and h to avoid

He decided to try the ht on Berkeley Street, which was a busy enough thoroughfare that therehory enough that her priet home as quickly as possible

Which was just fine with Gareth He would ossip on the main road than by a thief on a side street

Gareth took off at a run toward Berkeley Square, slowing down at each intersection to glance up and down the cross streets

Nothing

Where the hell had she gone? He knew she was uncoood God, how fast could she run?

He dashed past Charles Street, onto the square proper A carriage rolled by, but Gareth paid it no ossip would probably be filled with tales of his crazed h the streets of Mayfair, but it was nothing his reputation couldn’t withstand

He ran along the edge of the square, and then finally he was on Bruton Street passing by Number Sixteen, Twelve, Seven…

There she was, running like the wind, heading around the corner so that she could enter the house from the back