repressively. â You shouldnât ask, either,â she added as Eliza opened her mouth again.
âSorry, Miss St. Lys.â
Celia shrugged. âWhere do you live, Miss Eliza?â she asked. âWeâll take you home.â
âOh, you can just set me down anywhere,â Eliza said cheerfully. âI got plenty of money now.â She jangled her coins in her hands happily.
âItâs nearly three in the morning, child,â Celia protested. âSet you down anywhere? I donât think so. Why, with all that money, you might end up in the Thames with your throat cut,â she added, only half in jest. âAnd then your friend would blame me for your untimely demise.â
Eliza stared at her. âMy what?â
âYour friend Lord Simon,â Celia said. âTall? Black hair? Green eyes?â
âOh, was that his name?â
Celia shook her head. âHe didnât even tell you his name ? How rude!â
âI didnât even know âe was a lord.â
âHeâs the younger son of a duke.â
Eliza was impressed. âBlimey!â
âHow is it you happened to meet him?â asked Celia. âIs it a regular thing, or what?â
âIf you donât mind her asking,â Fitzclarence said dryly.
âForgive me, my dear, but you are not exactly the sort of female I would have thought he preferred,â said Celia. âNot that you donât deserve him, of courseâI am sure that you doâbut Lord Simon is the sort of man who thinks very well of himself. Just to give you an idea, his last mistress was Miss Selina Rogers of Covent Garden. Youâve heard of her, I suppose? That last play of hers was utter trash, Iâm sorry to say, but she made her entrance by hot air balloon, so thatâs something, I suppose.â
Eliza stared at her wide-eyed. âMistress!â she said faintly. âBlimey! I ainât âis mistress.â
âNo, I didnât think you were.â
âI only just met âim tonightâhafter the ply.â
âThe ply?â Celia repeated, puzzled. âOh, the play . What play?â
âYour ply, Miss St. Lys.â
â My play?â Celia was astonished. âDo you mean to tell me that Lord Simon dragged you all the way from Drury Lane to St. Jamesâs Street? Why on earth would he do that?â
âAnd then he forgot to âpieâ her,â Fitzclarence put in.
Eliza looked at them in confusion. âWell, âe was looking for you, wasnât âe?â
âYou mean looking for him?â said Celia, meaning Fitzclarence.
âYou mean looking for her?â said Fitzclarence, meaning Celia.
âI mean looking for you, Miss St. Lys.â
âLooking for me?â said Celia, taken aback. âLord Simon was looking for me? Should I be flattered or terrified?â She forced out a shaky laugh.
âTerrif ied,â Fitzclarence said ominously. âMost definitely. People have been known to disappear when Lord Simon looks for them. A visit from Lord Simon is rather like a visit from the Angel of Death.â
Eliza gasped.
âOh, he doesnât kill people,â Fitzclarence assured her. âHe merely frightens them to death.â
âDonât exaggerate,â Celia said crossly. âDid he say why he was looking for me?â she asked Eliza.
âNo, Miss St. Lys. Youâre not angry with me, are you?â Eliza asked anxiously, as Celia sat chewing at her bottom lip. ââE said âeâd give me âalf a crown if I told âim where youâd gone. Thatâs a lot of money.â
Again she shook the coins in her hands. She seemed to like the sound they made.
âWhy should I be angry with you, child?â Celia said absently. âIâm sure itâs nothing.â Impulsively she opened her reticule and gave the girl her handkerchief. âHere; tie up your money