Read Online When the Devil Drives by Caro Peacock - Free Book Online

as if I’ll be away for three weeks, at least. Rosa’s family are insisting I stay at the castle. There’s talk of fancy dress balls and hunting and shooting, God help me.’
    I talked to him about Dora Tilbury. I sensed that he was still uneasy about my way of earning a living, although it had led to our meeting. He might have preferred it if I were still a music teacher or had no need to earn a living at all.
    We came close to Hyde Park corner and turned further into the park.
    â€˜Liberty . . .’
    (It was still sweet to me to hear him saying my name. On the very rare occasions when we were in company, even the company of Amos, I was still Miss Lane.)
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜On this Ireland business . . .’
    â€˜You’re wondering what fancy dress to pack? What about Hamlet?’
    He stopped, taken aback. ‘Why Hamlet? Am I being so very gloomy?’
    â€˜Not gloomy at all. A poor joke. Sorry.’
    But it had come into my mind because I sensed that Robert had spent a long time trying to come to a decision. He started walking again, then suddenly made up his mind to speak.
    â€˜I was wondering if you’d care to come with me.’
    This time I was the one who stopped suddenly. ‘How could I? You can’t simply produce a young woman the bride’s family have never met and tell them to add her to the guest list.’
    â€˜Unless you came as my fiancée.’
    I daresay my mouth dropped open. I stared at him.
    â€˜Is the prospect so very awful?’ he said.
    â€˜You’re suggesting that I should pose as your fiancée, simply to—’
    He looked angry. ‘I’m sorry if you think me capable of suggesting any such thing. There’s no question of posing.’
    â€˜But . . . you’re . . . proposing marriage.’
    â€˜You’re surprised?’
    Not entirely, but I hadn’t expected it to come so suddenly. We started walking again. Part of my mind was glowing with happiness that he should have suggested it, but an older, calmer part held back. Robert wasn’t ready for it. It was too early for him to know what he wanted. I’d be no true friend of his if I took him at his word and tied him to it forever.
    â€˜So the answer’s no,’ he said.
    â€˜Oh my dear, it’s too early. You know that in your heart.’
    He didn’t argue. ‘Only too early? Not no?’
    â€˜No. I mean yes, at least not no.’
    Then, amazingly, we were both laughing. The glow of happiness grew, that he could understand me and take it without anger or bitterness.
    â€˜So I’m condemned to an Irish castle on my own?’
    We walked back together and he took my hand and said goodbye to me as usual, at the gateway to Abel Yard.
    Tabby was waiting at the foot of my staircase, eager as a terrier. ‘Are we going to start looking for her then?’
    At least her mind was still on Dora Tilbury, even if mine wasn’t.
    â€˜Later. There’s a letter I want you to deliver first.’
    I went upstairs and gave her the note for Disraeli.
    â€˜It’s for Number One, Grosvenor Gate, the house with the little round balcony. Tell them it’s to be sent on to Mr Disraeli.’
    When she’d gone, I walked along Adam’s Mews, up Charles Street and round the corner into Grosvenor Street. Number Four was an elegant straight-fronted house with iron railings round the basement, sash windows and window boxes on the first floor with miniature box hedges, severely clipped. Mr Clyde had given me no key, nothing but the address. As I stood on the pavement looking up, something white bobbed up and down inside the window above the box plants. A maid’s cap. I walked up three stone steps to the black painted front door and pulled at the bell beside it. The door was opened so promptly that the maid must have practically flung herself downstairs.
    â€˜Mrs Lane? Good morning,