that she would feel as he did. That she could feel so.
That he was not alone.
A sound behind the line of ladies shook his concentration just long enough to wrench his attention from his wife to some motion behind her. There was nothing he could see that should have disturbed the dance at all, and yet his eyes shifted along the line of guests to discover Leclerc meandering his way through the group. Not unusual, Leclerc was a bit of a social puppy.
But then, as he moved to again turn with the lady on Hal’s right, he saw Fontaine heading in the same direction. As well as Savatier, their host Voclain, and two other gentlemen, none of them acknowledging the other or seeming to have any coordination to the exodus at all.
Yet why would a host ever leave the ballroom?
John frowned as he approached Hal for the dance. “Something’s happening,” he murmured.
“I know,” she replied, her attention behind the men. Then she looked up at him. “We have to follow.”
As much as he hated to admit it, that had been his conclusion, as well. The dance had to end so their mission could continue.
He nodded, fighting back a resigned sigh. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Hal exhaled shortly, a crease appearing in her brow, then she stumbled just a little, swaying into him. “Oh…”
John swept her out of the dance at once, both of their feet moving quickly. “Come along, dear, let’s find you some air.”
“Air,” she wheezed, a fairly passable impression of weakness taking over her. “Please…”
Madame Voclain was to them in a moment. “My dear, what is it?”
“Just a bit overcome,” John assured her with a smile. “The excitement and splendor along with such lively dancing, it’s quite done her in. Might there be a small parlor or some such where I might take her to recover herself?”
“Oui, just out of the doors and to the right.” She looked at Hal pityingly. “Oh, my dear. Let me come with you, let me help you.”
Hal shook her head, lolling it against John. “No, madame, please. Your guests… I’ll be well presently…”
“I will tend to her, madame,” John assured her. “Please, see to your guests. We insist.”
The woman did not look convinced but nodded all the same and gestured toward the ballroom door.
John inclined his head in thanks and moved Hal as quickly as a husband might have moved a swooning wife out of the public eye. “Nicely done, Ange,” he told her, fighting a smile.
“I’ve been preparing my entire life for this act,” she retorted as one of her hands clutched at his coat. They exited the ballroom and turned to the right, as directed, at which time Hal was recovered and giving John a firm look. “Let’s find ourselves a meeting, shall we?”
Chapter Eleven
“They wouldn’t be that obvious, would they?”
“Sometimes the obvious is the least expected.”
“But the card room?” Hal shook her head, exhaling in a strange sort of disappointment. “They cannot control all of the men in there.”
John gave her an exasperated look. “They’ll be controlling us in a moment if you don’t lower your voice.”
Hal made a face and stuck her tongue out. Then she began eyeing the corridor carefully. “How to hear without being seen? How to…?” She suddenly grinned and nodded to herself before glancing up at John. “Sometimes I adore large houses with lots of servants.”
His brow creased in confusion. “Why?”
For a brilliant man, he could be rather thick at times.
“Honestly, John,” she groaned in a whisper. “Didn’t you ever sneak about in the servants’ corridors? Their nooks and crannies that aren’t visible to the naked eye?”
“No,” he replied with the clearest, most innocent expression known to man. “Jeremy did, though.”
That was not surprising in the least. Hal sighed and extended a hand to him.
“Then you are long overdue.”
He took her hand with a quizzical smile, the pressure of his firm grip making her smile almost dreamily as she had in the dance they’d shared.
Well, started to share.
She scowled mentally at the recollection, and turned, tugging her husband behind her as she pushed open a servant’s door and headed down the dark, narrow corridor.
The only light available at present came from the faint outline of another doorway, and Hal moved there leaning against the wall alongside, John joining her.
Conversations in rapid French could be heard, the voices were low but not inaudible.
“It’s unrealistic to expect more from that quarter,” a voice said, his French not quite native sounding. “Until we get more pieces in place,