Free Lucasta by Melinda Hammond

escorted back to her seat in the curricle the following morning the viscount observed drily that a chance observer was more likely to suspect a kidnap than an elopement.
    When they arrived in Sophia Street, Lucasta realized belatedly that she had no idea which of the houses had been hired by her mama, but here the duchess’s redoubtable dresser proved her worth: a few knocks, a few discreet enquiries and Mrs Symonds’ direction was discovered.
    ‘Would you like me to come in with you?’ asked the viscount, as Lucasta climbed down from the curricle.
    ‘Thank you, my lord, but that will not be necessary,’ put in Calder briskly. ‘Miss Symonds is safe enough in my care. Besides there’s no one to look after your horses.’
    She stepped up to the door and banged the knocker loudly. Lucasta looked back at the viscount.
    ‘I really am very grateful to you, my lord.’
    ‘Think no more of it. I shall call upon you in a few days to see how you go on.’ He touched his hat. ‘Good day to you, Miss Symonds.’
    With a flourish of his whip he set off along the street. Lucasta watched him drive away and pulled her cloak more firmly around her, feeling suddenly bereft.
    Moments later she was standing in an elegant morning-room while a lofty butler sent a note to Lady Symonds. She looked across at Calder, standing impassively in one corner, and gave her a nervous smile.
    ‘I am sure we will be able to find you a room for the night – it is too late now for you to set off for Coombe Chase.’
    ‘Thank you miss,’ came the civil reply. ‘I believe the mail coach leaves early each morning so a little supper and a comfortable bed would be most welcome. Also, I should like to know that you are settled before I take my leave of you. So that I may report back to my mistress,’ she added quickly, lest Lucasta should think her capable of any sort of kindness.
    ‘Lucasta – it is you! When I was told you had arrived I thought there must be some mistake!’ Mrs Symonds hurried into the room, Camilla close behind her. ‘Has there been some sort of accident? Is it your Papa?’
    ‘Papa was quite well when last I saw him,’ replied Lucasta. ‘It is quite complicated, however. Before I explain, will you give orders for rooms to be prepared? This is Calder, by the way, the Duchess of Filwood’s personal maid. She willonly be staying for one night, but I shall require a room for a much longer stay, if you will permit me.’
    ‘Yes, yes of course,’ Mrs Symonds nodded, looking very bewildered and Lucasta took it upon herself to instruct the butler, who was standing at the door with a look of the liveliest curiosity on his face. Once he and Calder had withdrawn, Lucasta tutted. ‘Oh dear – should I have told him to set another place for dinner? But he will know to do that, surely?’ She turned towards her mother and sister, who were still standing in the middle of the floor, staring at her. She quelled a sudden desire to laugh and said instead, ‘Shall we all sit down?’
    As she sank into a chair her cloak fell open to display her raiment.
    ‘Lucasta,’ said her mother in a voice of precarious calm, ‘What are you doing in Town, dressed as a boy and, and accompanied by a – a duchess’s personal maid?’
    ‘Have you received no word from Papa? No? Well, that is very odd, for I left him a note explaining what I was going to do, but perhaps he did not think he could explain himself properly in a letter.’
    ‘Lucasta,’ burst in Camilla, ‘if you do not tell us exactly what is happening I shall fall into hysterics!’
    ‘I have run away,’ she said simply.
    ‘Oh good heavens!’ Mrs Symonds sank back into her chair and began to ply her fan vigorously.
    ‘I mean,’ continued Lucasta, considering her words, ‘I have run away from Papa, who was going to force me to marry Squire Woodcote.’
    ‘What?’ Mrs Symonds dropped her fan and sat bolt upright, her colour fluctuating alarmingly.
    Lucasta nodded.
    ‘Squire