Dahlia took a deep breath. “I am not a wilting Maid Marion,” she whispered softly to herself, “I’m Robin Hood. I can defend my own honor. And use an outhouse, if that’s what it takes.” She blew out the breath and opened the little wooden door.
There was a candle along with flint and steel to light it just inside the door. After several tries, she was able to get a fat spark and coax the wick to light. It was an ordinary rushlight, made with tallow coated over a reed and it gave off a rather dim glow as well as a smoky odor. Dahlia closed and secured the door before setting about what she had come to do.
As she sat there, she heard the sound of horses’ hooves and a vehicle on the drive to the stable, followed by men’s voices.
“We’ve looked everywhere I can think of,” said a voice she knew very well.
Aaron! What is my brother doing here?
“Let’s change the horses, and get a bite before we go out again,” a slightly deeper voice replied. “She was walking, so she cannot have gone too far.”
Duke Shelthom!
“Perhaps, sirs,” remarked a third voice, one she did not recognize, “We would do better to go afoot. As you say, Lady Dahlia was walking. We might be able to make inquiries of those who could have seen her.”
Dahlia clapped her hand over her mouth. Oh, dear! Of all the houses where I might have found work, this is Duke Shelthom’s town residence! What am I going to do?
“Not too loudly,” Aaron’s voice again. “Someone is in the outhouse.”
The voices stilled, then there were sounds of boots walking away, then horses being taken into the stable. Dahlia listened for a few minutes before tidying herself and using ashes from the bucket so conveniently provided to pour down the hole. Finally, she dowsed the rushlight and stepped out into the garden.
What to do? All her things were in the attic. Nothing to do, really. They had not seen her. She started walking back toward the glow of the kitchen lights.
“Young woman,” the third man’s voice said softly, “Is it safe even for kitchen maids to venture out into the dusk of evening?”
Dahlia glanced up at the tall man who stood by the kitchen steps, eating a bit of the coarse bread that had been served at the lower servants’ table.
“Safe enough.” She laughed a little, then added, “I’m only a few steps from the back entrance, and the other servants know where I have gone.”
“That laugh,” the man said, looking at her closely. At that moment, Betsy opened the kitchen door and light from the kitchen fell on Dahlia’s face. “God’s Whiskers!” the man swore. “Lady Dahlia! His Grace, the Duke of Shelthom and your brother, Lord Bochil, and I have been combing London’s streets looking for you!”
Betsy ran down the steps. “Miss Daisy! Are you all right? You look affrighted.” She fetched up beside Dahlia. “Shall I call the footmen?”
Dahlia sighed. She might have known she wouldn’t be able to escape. “No, no. It is all right, Betsy.” Then to the man, “You have found me. Are you going to give me up to the Duke and Lord Bochil?”
“I fear I must,” said the man. “They are both grieved full sore by your absence. Will you come in, My Lady?”
“Will you walk with me, Betsy?” Dahlia asked. “I’m afraid I’ve not been completely truthful with you, but I could use a little moral support.”
“I ain’t supposed to come above stairs, Miss Daisy,” the little maid said.
“I think we can make an exception this once,” the man said. “I will vouch for you, young woman. And to show my goodwill, and so you both know that no foul play is intended, we will walk up through the kitchen, and you can call the footmen if you wish.”
By the time they had walked through the house, they had acquired the company of the under-butler, four footmen and Peter, the head butler who had come with Duke Shelthom from the country estate.
Peter stepped inside the dining room where the Duke and Aaron were taking a little quick refreshment, and Mrs. Garrity was attempting to be hospitable and reproving at the same time.
“Nephew, you cannot intend…” she was saying as the crowd approached the dining room door.
“Your pardon, m’lady,” Peter’s trained voice rolled over the confused murmurs behind him and Mrs. Garrity’s worried tones, “Your Grace, My Lord, I have a matter which deserves your attention.”
Dahlia found herself pushed forward into the dining room simply by the press of people crowding in behind her.
“Daisy!” Mrs. Garrity flung down her napkin.
“My Lady!” the Duke rushed toward her, only to run afoul of Aaron who was also on the same trajectory.
“Sister! Where have you been?” Aaron cried out.
Dahlia concluded that she might as well have it all out now. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Then bedlam broke out as everyone tried to talk at once. “Enough!” The Duke’s voice carried over the noise. Silence fell on the room. “Now, let’s all sit down. You, too,” he motioned the servants toward the foot of the table. “We will now give Lady Dahlia a chance to tell us what is going on and why she was walking in my garden.”
Dahlia swallowed hard as she found herself the center of attention. The Duke looked protective and deeply concerned, her brother was trying to decide whether to be angry or glad, Mrs. Garrity’s face wore an expression of outrage, and the servants had varying looks that ranged from bewilderment to awe. “Can Betsy sit beside me?” Dahlia asked in a small voice.
“Betsy?” Mrs. Garrity exclaimed.
“Of course,” the Duke. “If it will help us get to the bottom of this, you may have anyone you wish to support you.”
Aaron gave her a look that said “just wait until we are alone,” but nodded.
Quickly the seat next to Dahlia was vacated, and a wide-eyed Betsy was seated beside her. “Betsy has very sweetly assisted me today, even though she only knew me as the new maid. I would like to commend her to you, Your Grace,” Dahlia smiled at the Duke and then at the little maid.
“And just who are you, Miss Daisy Smith of Dorchester?” Mrs. Garrity demanded.
“Aunt Garrity,” the Duke said gently, “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Dahlia, oldest daughter of The Duke of Cottleroy.”
“Well, I must say…”
“No,” the Duke of Shelthom reproved. “You must not say. We need for Lady Dahlia to tell us in her own words what has frightened her so much that she ran away from her home, and about her adventures today. My Lady?”
Dahlia looked around at the now expectant faces, opened her mouth and began in her best story-telling style, “It all began with the bootblack.”
For nearly two hours she spoke, sipping at the tea, which she discovered was the same mint served below stairs. By the time she had finished, two of the serving maids were white faced, the senior footman had his jaw clenched, Peter had on his best butler face, and Mrs. Garrity covered the lower half of her face with her lace-edged handkerchief.
“You see,” she concluded, “I just could not remain there. Father would insist that I marry Lord Goldstone. That note shows that he has gotten himself into some kind of trouble, and I wouldn’t be the first Duke’s daughter to be auctioned off to the highest bidder to save the family fortunes.”
“I know that if I were truly a dutiful daughter, I would have stayed there. I would have said yes to Goldstone. Then, years from now, I would be like Lady Amory. I’d be telling everyone how glad I am that my deceased husband choked on a fishbone. If I outlive him, that is. I can’t Aaron, I just can’t.”
Aaron had gone red, then white when she got to the part about Scarlett, then chuckled when she described sorting the linen. Now he seemed speechless, and deeply troubled.
The Duke had a calm expression on his face but one hand was fisted around a spoon that was slowly bending.
“My Lady,” his voice was incredibly gentle, even tender, “you could have been killed.”
“Or worse,” her brother put in.
“There isn�
��t much worse than death,” the Duke drawled. “After death, there is no going back and no fixing anything. Now, we have a situation and no mistake. It will not do for you to be found here. It would be devastating to your reputation, Lady Dahlia, even with my good Aunt Garrity’s chaperonage.”
“You cannot ask me to go back, Your Grace,” Dahlia cried. “Have you not been listening?”
“I have been listening,” the Duke gently explained, “And had I that dastardly earl in my hands, I would cheerfully end him. As it is, I might call him out for maligning my friend’s hound and refusing reparation.” The Duke’s eyes glittered dangerously.
“But,” Aaron started. “Oh. Reputation. Won’t do my sister any good to be the cause of duel.”
“Precisely. Nor would the fate of a bootblack, however worthy, be considered just cause. But my friend’s hound, and the insult to his offer of making amends, now that is completely a different matter.” The Duke of Shelthom smiled affably at everyone.
“Oh, Your Grace,” Dahlia cried out, “I pray you do not engage in something so rash as to challenge the Earl of Goldstone to a duel. He is notable for his skill with both sword and pistol and has killed three men just this year. I should be greatly distressed to read of your demise in the Times or the Herald.” I would be devastated. And I don’t care a fig for your financial state, you are a far finer man than Goldstone will ever be.
“You read newspapers?” the Duke asked incredulously, seemingly gobsmacked by the concept.
“Of course,” Dahlia replied, “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I will own I do not,” the Duke said. “Not since...I came home. The news makes me angry and then despondent. I find myself doing foolish things like beating the punching bags at the Club until they are shreds or running my horse at fences, I know he cannot safely take.” The Duke drew a deep breath; something had happened that he regretted deeply.
“I am so sorry, Your Grace,” Dahlia said. “I did not mean to cause you pain.”
“You did not,” the Duke said gently. “I do not think you could ever cause me pain, My Lady. You have shown me how careless men can be of our Ladies’ feelings, and heedless of their intelligence and observations. I deeply regret the position in which you find yourself.”
“Oh, it happens all the time,” Dahlia said sadly. “Most of the ladies with whom I came out either married a fortune or a title. I could count on the fingers of one hand, nay on one finger, the marriages made for love. I just never thought my father would require that I marry such a man as Lord Goldstone.”
The Duke seemed to think for a moment. “I should not have thought that Goldstone would require marriage to a fortune.”
“Oh, no need to believe it. Lord Goldstone is not marrying me for my fortune but for my father’s connections. Or perhaps he is marrying me for my inheritance. I will come into a little land upon my twenty-first birthday in October, and he seems very interested in my little island.”
Dahlia swallowed another sip of mint tea. “Father has let me know that if I do not marry the Earl, he will cut me off without a penny. That is why I decided to run away to starve in a garret or find employment. Anything would be better than being caged in a marriage to Lord Goldstone. Indeed, I figure so little in this marriage that it would be better if he and my father were to grace the altar together.”
Aaron cleared his throat. “Sister, that was more than a little indelicate.”
Dahlia turned on him, eyes blazing. “And so is my situation, Brother. The man makes my skin crawl. The merest thought of spending any time alone with him is repulsive. Nay, it is terrifying. You saw how he was with little Tommy and with me when he thought I was a serving maid.”
Aaron tugged at his lower lip thoughtfully. “I think there might be a way that we could all be of service to each other.”
Dahlia and the Duke were hanging on the next few words.
Aaron went on, “In as much as the Earl has not yet proposed, what if a proposal preceded his question? Would not such an engagement then put off whatever Father and Lord Goldstone have in mind?”
Dahlia gaped at him, then looked at the Duke and dropped her eyes in confusion.
“Come now, Dahlia, I do not think that the Duke of Shelthom repulses you.”
Dahlia kept her eyes fixed on her hands, but cheek and forehead reddened. “He does not,” she said in a small voice. Then she lifted her blushing face, “Not in the least. But we have only just met a day ago.”
“We might not know him well, but I do know of him,” Aaron said. “I know that not all of his fortunes were squandered on…” He cleared his throat. “The ordinary pursuits of young men of good fortune.”
“I have no idea of what you speak.” Roger said, carefully straightening the much-abused spoon. He stood, turned from the brother and sister to look over the assembled household. “Do not all of you have other things to do? We must now speak of matters in confidence. What has been discussed this night must not go beyond these walls. Lady Dahlia’s future depends upon your silence.”
“No, Your Grace, of course, Your Grace,” the several voices murmured in various versions of consent.
“About your business now,” Peter boomed. “Deeds are afoot, and the house must be in order.”
The servants scattered. “Peter,” the Duke said, “Please stay. And you, too, Herbert and Aunt Garrity.”
Aaron lifted his eyebrows at the general exodus. “I will say no more. But your reputation as a gentleman, sir, is excellent. Although,” he added gently, “your reputation as a player of cards is that you are easily fleeced, and you are well known as a soft touch at the race tracks. Moreover, if a service man brings you a sad story, you will immediately set about helping him to repair his fortunes.”
The Duke sat back down in his chair, with an easy smile. “I am found out, and I cannot deny it.”
Dahlia spoke gently. “Would you truly miss the cards and the racetrack?”
“No, My Lady, in truth I would not. In fact, these last few days, I have scarcely thought of them. I will be glad to help you in any way I can. You have become my lamp in the darkness. I simply do not know how I might serve if I cannot call the bl…uh… miscreant out.”
Dahlia blushed deeply. “No more have I, Your Grace. But I pray that you will not.”
“Well, I do have an idea,” Aaron said. “It is a bit hare-brained, but I think it might suffice to protect my sister. Were you to offer for her hand, I might be able to persuade my father that you are a better catch than Harry Warwick.”
“Aaron! What must His Grace think of us for even suggesting such a scheme.” Dahlia’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“No, no, Sister, hear me out.” Aaron took her hands. “If Duke Shelthom were to ask for your hand, you could request a long engagement. If at the end of it, you truly dislike the idea of marriage, you could call off the engagement and come live in my household. I shall graduate in May, and will take up my business pursuits in earnest. I quite like the idea of a dragon lady of an aunt living in my domain.”
The Duke just stared at the young man. “You realize that such a plan would ruin her other chances at marriage?”
“That is of no moment,” Dahlia said. “At this time, I do not much like the idea of marriage anyway. I have always had it in mind to impose on Aaron. Let my sisters do the marrying. Rose is all a-twitter at the idea, and she comes out in the spring.”
“And you, Duke,” Aaron went on laying out his plan, ignoring Dahlia’s and the Duke’s comments, “Your problems would be allayed as well. Your creditors could be fobbed off with the prospect of payment when the marriage should come to pass.”
The Duke turned to look at Dahlia. May I speak frankly?” he asked.
“Please do,” Dahlia replied, schooling her face to polite attention
“My Lady, I have never seen a lady lovelier, nor heard one speak with whom I am more enchanted. I will not speak lightly of love, but if you could believe in love at first sight, I will tell you that I
fell in love the day I rode into London and saw you playing at ball with your brother and sisters.”
“I do not believe in love at first sight,” Dahlia said firmly. But I might be falling in love with him, foolish as it might be. “Although I might own to a certain attraction or aversion upon meeting someone. But love is developed over time and based on mutual respect.”
The Duke nodded. “Indeed, My Lady, you might have the right of it. But I have found nothing in your subsequent actions to make me believe that you are less than a Lady of character, albeit with a fiery spirit and a tendency toward independent action.”
Aaron muffled a snicker. “I hear an objection coming on the heels of this declaration.”
“Not from lack of regard for Lady Dahlia. I want to be clear about the problems I foresee with this idea of yours, Lord Bochil. First, becoming engaged in such a ramshackle way will play the d…deuce with your sister’s reputation.”
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