Using some instinct of self-preservation, Dorinda avoided the ballroom and slipped down a passageway that led to the front door.
She stood breathlessly on the steps looking for a conveyance.
“Carriage, madam?” a linkman asked.
“Yes – please,” Dorinda replied with difficulty.
A carriage appeared and she stepped into it.
“Where to, madam?”
“The quay.”
The coachman whipped up the tired horse and, as they started off, Dorinda looked back.
There was no sign of Maximus Kirby amongst a number of people leaving the house.
She put her hands up to her face. Now she knew that she could not meet him again.
He loathed and despised her, but she loved him to the point when she could not trust herself not to break down and tell him so.
He had undoubtedly been in a furious rage when he had spoke
