” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. She had found the location of his firm on the internet on a library computer, tracing him to this place in New York where he practiced criminal law. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. At this gate two paths meet.
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