There was no question of Dolmain’s love of his daughter; he would certainly do what he should regarding her welfare. “He ought to know, yet I dislike to tattle on her. Yes, I expect I must tell him.” Dolmain and Lady Helen soon arrived. Caro could only assume he was a marvelous actor. The way he gazed at her, with a soft smile of admiration, was almost enough to make her question whether Newt was mistaken about her follower reporting to Curzon Street. She turned her attention to Helen, whom she had not had much opportunity to assess thus far. The girl was well turned out in a pale blue gown of sarsenet with a shawl of Albany gauze over her shoulders and a simple strand of pearls at her throat. She was pretty, but her smile was lukewarm. “Good evening, Lady Winbourne,” she said, dropping a small curtsey. Mr. Newton received an even smaller smile and curtsey. “A great pleasure, Lady Helen,” he said, bowing low, as if she were Queen Charlotte. “I have been looking forward to tonight.
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