As Lady Ann predicted, Evelyn had a sudden flood of new friends who came to call. Invitations poured in, all with a fervent desire for her friendship. Even those who snubbed her a day ago couldn't do without Lady Evelyn at their next gathering.

Of course, they were all wondering who was Lady Evelyn that she should be worthy of Lord Davenport? Before anyone tugged on that thread, Lady Ann came to the rescue.

"It was all arranged years ago when Lady Evelyn was a child. Why else would a man like Lord Davenport remain unattached all this time! They had to wait for her to reach a suitable age. I'm certain you've all known of this?" Lady Ann fibbed. "I thought everyone knew."

"Why yes!" Lady Warwick was quick to agree. "We thought it was common knowledge!"

Later, Ann explained it all to Evelyn: "They might wonder, but they wouldn't dare ask or they might reveal that they do not know everything. There's nothing our lot hates more than being the last to know what they deem is important."

Evelyn's new friends found every excuse to call on her. Soon, not a day passed without several gathered at the Warwicks' in anticipation of Lord Davenport's imminent arrival. Some hoped he might yet change his mind, while most were there out of sheer curiosity. They wondered how Lord Davenport might court his intended bride. What sort of gifts would he bring her? Would that dashing man recite poems and sonnets as well as he did everything else? So, for a few hours each day, the Warwick parlour was clustered with ladies, nibbling on cakes and sipping tea. They traded stories about him, and some were even true.

And they waited.

And waited.

Lord Davenport did not come.

Lady Warwick wavered between elation and absolute panic over her newfound popularity. She felt it was her due to take advantage of all the invitations Evelyn declined. The entire house needed to be refurbished to suit her new guests, with the expectation of that one in particular.

Still, Lord Davenport did not come.

Nor did he send any correspondence or token that might satisfy the constant inquiries of his whereabouts.

Again, Lady Ann came to the rescue. She informed those who queried that it was a busy time as the question of reform was being debated before Parliament. That stopped further inquiries. Most of the ladies accepted there might be more pressing matters in the world than romance. They had no interest in the particulars though. Nevertheless, they returned home each day to grumble about the lack of Lord Davenport's sighting yet again.

Lady Warwick was beside herself. She gnashed her teeth and wrung her hands. "He must come!" Lady Warwick wailed to Evelyn, yet again. "He must! Has he sent no word to you? No gifts? No token at all?"

On that day, all their visitors, tired of waiting, had left early. That left only the ladies of the household in the drawing-room. Mary and Regina darted glances between their older sister and Evelyn, sitting in a corner, her dark head bent over a bit of embroidery.

"He must come!" Lady Warwick declared to no one in particular. "He must come! Perhaps he called while we were out?

"Evelyn," Mary said. "Perhaps you ought to write to him? Invite him to dine?"

"Heavens!" exclaimed Regina, aghast. "Wouldn't be proper, would it? The first gesture ought to come from him."

"Maybe you ought to write to him?" Lady Warwick suggested to Evelyn. "A few lines. I could write it, and you might copy it, to say--"

Evelyn put away her embroidery and she rose to her feet. "I beg your pardon. I think I'll pay Lady Ann a visit. She's been unwell."

Evelyn made a hasty escape before the three sisters badgered her more. If nothing else, her marriage would remove her from this insufferable household, Evelyn thought with disgust.

These last few weeks were almost too much to bear. So often, she thought she saw him in the streets, at a theatre or across a ballroom. Each time, her heart leapt to her throat until the gentleman turned to reveal himself to be someone else. She soon discovered the city was chocked full of tall, handsome men with black hair and pale blue eyes. Though none quite measured up to Lord Davenport.

He, along with the rest of the City, must have learned of their betrothal by now. His absence must mean he found her unsuitable for him. And soon, everyone would know it. And when that happened, at least she could count on Ann's calm and level-headed support to fall back on. Ann. How glad she was to have this one true friend now.

That day, Evelyn found Ann tucked beneath heavy covers in her enormous bed, with her head and part of her face hidden beneath a sleeping cap. She beckoned for Evelyn to sit beside her and held the younger woman's hands with her usual warmth.

"It's so good of you to come," she said to Evelyn in a faint voice. "Your pretty face alone has revived me. Oh, but what is this? Why the tears, my dear?"

"You are so good to ask after me," Evelyn said, her cheeks dimpled as she attempted a smile.

"Oh my honey, I shan't have you accuse me of saintliness when all I've done is no more than what any friend might do. Now tell me, what's causing your distress?"

"Time has stopped for me," Evelyn admitted. "I exist on a knife's edge. Every day I go through the motions. At night, I can't sleep. Food lost its taste. Every time a visitor is announced, my heart jumps, thinking it's him. When it isn't, I'm listless. But why? I ought to be pleased I'm spared his attention, at least for a little while. I ought to despise him. Yet, I'm consumed with worry. Why haven't I heard from him?"

Lady Ann pushed aside her annoyance at the younger woman's angst. "I have made inquiries as you have asked. It seems Lord Davenport has left the City."

"Left?" Evelyn exclaimed, as her eyes flooded with even more tears. " What does this mean--? Am I free of him?"

"I could not say. Perhaps it's a— a delicate matter."

Seeing Evelyn's blank look, Ann chose her words carefully. "I have no personal knowledge of Lord Davenport's habits, as I hardly know him at all. But I know men. Any man who lived a bachelor's life for as long as he has, he must have seen to his— needs, if you'll pardon my vulgarity. It wouldn't be so unusual if he has— how shall I put this?-- He must have private matters to settle before the marriage banns are read. I hope I haven't shocked you too much."

At Evelyn's confused look, Ann sighed. "Certain men have certain entanglements, you see. Every bride needs to be understanding of such things."

Evelyn had some vague notion of what Ann was alluding to. It was enough to horrify her. How much has she cried over this single man?

"I shouldn't say such things, but you remind me so much of my own daughter that I am quite protective of you. So I must warn you as if I am your mother." Swallowing back a smile, Ann pointed to a large leather-bound volume on a table beside her. "Will you read to me, my dear? I believe we left off at Deuteronomy twenty-two."

It was dark out when Lady Ann drifted off to sleep. As quiet as she could, Evelyn got up and left the room. As soon as the latch in the door shut and Evelyn's footfall faded away, Ann bounced out of bed. She ducked behind a window curtain to watch Evelyn leave the house for her waiting coach. Ann smiled to herself.

*************************

Alone in her transport, Evelyn was free to let her composure crumble. She dropped her face into the palms of her hands as the coach rolled away. So many thoughts and emotions swirled in her she did not notice at first when a loud sound came from outside.

Suddenly, the entire box came to a screeching stop. The impact threw her forward onto her hands and knees. Her forehead bounced off something hard. Horses' angry neighing loudly over the panicked shouts of the coachman. As she tried to crawl back up, the box shook again, knocking her down. More shouting. More booming sounds!

What has happened? She reached out to grab ahold of something, anything, to steady herself when the door was ripped open, bringing forth a gust of cold night air and rain!

Instinctively she cried out, "Help!'

A large, cold, wet hand clasped over her mouth and forced her back against a damp, foul-smelling, rough figure. His foul breath made her eyes water more than even his pungent body odour as his huge, hulking body forced her to the ground. He panted his foul breath into her ear, "Pretty, pretty!"

Evelyn let out a blood-curdling screech when she felt her skirts being lifted. No! Not that! She used every part of her she could use to push against the foul, immovable creature. She shrieked again when his cold slithering tongue first touched her face, then proceeded to lick her from her chin to her temple. There was no time for her to register fear. No time to gather her wits. Act! She bites down on the closest part of him she could reach. Her teeth sank into the clammy, leathery fingers around her face. Hard!

Her assailant howled in pain. He releases her, then backhanded her across her face. The impact knocked her head back, and she felt her head bounce off a panelled siding before landing on the floor.

"He means to kill me!" she thought wildly.

Just then, another gust of cold rain blew through the carriage door as it flew open once more. The cretin was tossed from her like a bag of wheat. All she saw was the worn soles of worn, dirty boots as they kicked about. One heel struck the side of her head. A burst of brightness blinded her. Her mouth flooded with a coppery taste, and wetness dribbled down her chin. There was no pain—just a numbness.

She had some sense of the absolute chaos outside. Men shouting. Horse neighing. A terrifying guttural cry was followed by a terrible crash that trembled and shook the whole world. But Evelyn was beyond carrying as she fought against sinking into a murkiness. She tried to climb to her feet, but her head felt strange and heavy. Her eyes refused to focus, so she could not see the large gentle hands that had her by the shoulders. Trembling, she bolted back with a frightened whimper.

"You're safe," a firm, familiar voice assured her. "Are you hurt?"

She tried to speak. She tried to focus on the face before her, only her head and body refused to obey her. Everything whirled and swayed around her. Then she felt herself being lifted and carried. She forced her eyes open to look at who had her. Was this the pale, worried visage of Lord Davenport before her? There was no time for her to feel bashful about her head against his broad shoulder, for everything faded to black.