The Wooing of Miss Masters

by Susan Carroll

  Audra rubbed her eyes as if to dispel the image, appalled by her own thoughts. The shock of Aunt Saunders's arrival must have unsettled her more than she knew. Or perhaps she had been reading too many romantic novels this past year. She should get back to the more acerbic wit of a Swift or Pope.

  Trying to snap herself out of this peculiar dreamy mood, she was aided by her aunt's frigid tones. Mrs. Saunders said, "Audra!" What is that uproar coming from your front hall?"

  "Uproar?" Audra straightened, listening, for the first time becoming aware of doors slamming, the tread of heavy footsteps.

  "Surely, even in these barbaric regions you do not receive callers this close to the supper hour?" Mrs. Saunders asked.

  "No, aunt," Audra said. She did not even trouble turning around when she heard the parlor door swing open.

  "Tell whoever it is that I am not at home, Mrs. McGuiness," she called out.

  "Why don't you tell him yourself?" Raeburn’s gruff voice replied.

  Audra's pulse gave a violent leap. She whipped about so suddenly she bumped up against a Greek statuette upon the parlor table and barely grabbed it before it crashed to the ground. Pressing her hands to still her thudding heart, she could only stare at the tall, dark man who seemed to fill her doorway. But she didn't know why she should be so surprised. His Grace seemed possessed of an evil genius for springing up when she least expected him. It was small comfort to know that she was not the only one so startled. Cecily gave a tiny gasp, and even Aunt Saunders dropped her lorgnette.

  Swept in from the night, Raeburn presented a rather alarming picture, the black wind-tossed hair, the heavy drawn brows, the harsh complexion and the fierce eyes. Despite the immaculate cut of his Garrick, he had more the look of a wandering brigand than a member of the peerage.

  "Forgive me, ladies," he said "I didn't mean to startle you. Your housekeeper seemed rather distracted by a mishap in the kitchens, some small excitement over a mouse caught nibbling at the Rhenish tarts, so I told her I could show myself in."

  Aunt Saunders was the first to recover, seizing up her lorgnette. "Upon my word, Audra. Is it your habit to have strange men running tame in your parlor?"

  "Madam," Raeburn said. "I never run tame anywhere."

  At this juncture, Audra managed to find her voice and rush forward to intervene before her aunt had a seizure. She stammered out introductions, but Mrs. Saunders appeared only partly mollified at the mention of Raeburn's name. In her rigid social code, not even dukes burst into ladies' parlors unannounced.

  Lest her aunt believe this sort of thing occurred at Meadow Lane all the time, Audra added, "Of course, this is all such a surprise, His Grace never having honored us with a visit before."

  She might well have saved her breath for at that moment, Cecily's treacherous pug leaped forward, panting, rolling her eyes with adoration, and scrabbling at Raeburn's boots as if he were a familiar and frequent visitor. When Aunt Saunders stared at Audra, she could only smile weakly, before turning her embarrassed anger upon Frou-frou.

  "Get down! Down I say," she said, commands which, of course, the pug utterly ignored.

  "Sit!" Raeburn thundered.

  It was the outside of enough when that infernal dog obeyed him at once. Although Raeburn grimaced at the sight of the pug's bow, he bent down to scratch the dog behind its ear.

  Cecily recovered enough from her terror to suggest, "She likes it better beneath the chin, Your Grace." She scooted closer to show Raeburn the exact spot.

  "I doubt His Grace came here tonight to pet your dog, Cecily," Aunt Saunders said.

  "No more, I did, madam." As Raeburn slowly straightened, Audra wished her aunt had left the man alone, to fuss over the dog all evening if he pleased. For now his attention focused on her.

  Audra took a skittish step back, although all he did was look at her, one of his quick appraising stares. She had wondered if they ever met again if he would be angry or merely icily distant. But he looked so confounded affable, except for that wicked glint in his eye. Raeburn was never so dangerous as when he behaved with an excess of civility, and Audra had a strong urge to place a chair in between them.

  "In fact, Miss Masters, I felt obliged to call upon you, owing to your unseasonably quick departure last evening."

  "I can explain that—" Audra began.

  "No need for explanations, my dear Miss Masters. I only came to return something that I believe belongs to you."

  Audra stared at him, but her incomprehension swift turned to horror when from beneath his Garrick, he produced her dancing slippers, a little the worse for having been tossed into the dirt last night. An outraged gasp escaped Aunt Saunders, as His Grace calmly set the shoes upon the parlor table.

  A moment of the most awful silence ensued. Audra moistened her lips, a wild denial almost springing to her lips, a declaration that they weren't hers. They were far too small.

  But Cecily was already piping up, "Why, Audra. Those are your dancing shoes."

  The next time anyone came to call, Audra thought she would lock both Cecily and her dog in a closet. She felt a hot tide of color wash over her cheeks.

  "Why, why, yes, so they are," Audra said, unable to meet her aunt's shocked and accusing stare. "You see I was obliged to take them off when I was at the Castle Raeburn last night. . . ."

  That sounded perfectly dreadful. Audra swallowed and tried again, "I am sure His Grace could tell you, Aunt. It was he who first suggested I should be rid of the shoes."

  No, that sounded infinitely worse. Audra cast an appealing glance at Raeburn, but the cursed man just stood there, his arms folded, a most interested look of inquiry upon his face.

  "Cecily and I attended a ball at Castle Raeburn last night," Audra floundered.

  "Alone?" her aunt asked icily.

  "No, I was there, too," the irrepressible Raeburn put in.

  Audra glowered at him. "My aunt doesn't mean that, you fool, er, ah, I mean, Your Grace. It was all perfectly proper, Aunt Saunders. We were escorted by my uncle, the Reverend Mr. Masters."

  Her aunt shuddered at mere mention of the name, and Audra could see she was making bad worse. At that welcome moment, the parlor door opened. Never did Audra expect to be so thankful for one of Mrs. McGuiness's interruptions. The housekeeper came to inform her that the dinner was ready to be served.

  "Is His Grace also expected to dine?" Mrs. McGuiness asked somewhat dubiously. "Shall I lay covers for four?"

  "No," Audra choked out, at the same time Raeburn drawled, "How kind."

  Audra's gaze locked with his for a moment. Twin demons seemed to dance into those tormenting dark eyes for all his expression of assumed meekness.

  "I have lingered from home so long, I fear my own sister will have dined without me. But I have no wish to intrude. I am sure my chef can always send me up a bit of cold beef from the larder." Raeburn heaved a deep wistful sigh. "I shall bid you ladies good evening. Of course, there is no need to thank me, Miss Masters, for riding so far out of my way to return your property."

  Thank him! In another second, Audra thought she was going to give him a mighty shove through the parlor doors, but with a soft cry, Cecily sprang to her feet.

  "Oh, no, Your Grace. You would not be intruding at all. We should all be delighted to have you dine with us, wouldn't we, Audra? Aunt Saunders?"

  Mrs. Saunders maintained a rigid silence. As for Audra, she muttered an oath under her breath.

  "With so many charming entreaties, how could a man refuse?" Raeburn said, sweeping a mocking bow.

  Audra half feared that her aunt might take umbrage, but years of proper breeding came to Mrs. Saunders's rescue. Although she clearly showed her disapproval of Raeburn in every rigid line of her frame, when the time came for him to lead her into supper, she permitted him to take her arm.

  As the duke and her aunt disappeared through the parlor doors, Audra held Cecily back, hissing in her ear. "Muffin, whatever possessed you to invite that man to dine?"

  "Why,
Audra, he looked so very sad at the thought of having cold beef."

  "The man is a duke, you little widgeon. His staff would serve him a seventeen-course meal at two in the morning if he desired it."

  Cecily's rosebud lips set into a mulish line. "Well, I don't care, Audra. It was still the proper thing to do. Miss Hudson always said that a lady should behave graciously to all her guests, even the unexpected ones."

  "Miss Hudson never had to deal with the Duke of Raeburn."

  "He is a little terrifying, even when he is being polite,” Cecily concede. “I fear it is going to be rather uncomfortable sitting down to dine with both him and Aunt Saunders."

  "Uncomfortable!" Audra snorted. "A banquet in hell would be as nothing to it." Ignoring Cecily's shocked cry, she propelled her sister along, down to the dining chamber where her aunt and the devil were waiting.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The tension in the dining room was by far thicker than the herring soup. Audra had never been troubled by indigestion before, but every bite she took seemed to settle into her stomach like a lump of cold lead. Perched on the edge of her chair, she kept stealing glances past the gleaming crockery and silverplate to where Raeburn sat at the head of the table. With each spoonful he took, she experienced a brief moment of relief. At least with his mouth full he couldn't talk, and she lived in dread of what he might say next.

  To either side of her, Cecily and Mrs. Saunders sipped at their own soup in complete silence. Cecily's usual bright chatter had been stilled by nervousness. As for Aunt Saunders, she was too caught up in grimacing as she stirred her soup, inspecting it.

  She pursed her lips. "This soup is too watery, Audra. If you persist in setting up your own household, an arrangement of which I have never approved, at least you could engage proper servants. You should dismiss your cook at once."

  Audra didn't trouble to explain that usually she was so absorbed in her reading, she never noticed what she ate. Her cook's shortcomings had never troubled her before, but she flinched when her aunt continued to criticize.

  "This stuff is perfectly dreadful. Really, Audra, to be setting out such food for your guests! I cannot imagine what His Grace must be thinking, or what you should say to him."

  Raeburn's lips twitched. "Knowing Miss Masters, she will tell me that since I invited myself to dine here, if I don't like the soup, I may go be hanged."

  He read her thoughts so well, Audra nearly choked. But when Aunt Saunders stiffened with indignation, Audra hastened to disclaim. "Of course, I would not say anything so rude, Your Grace."

  "Wouldn't you? Then you are obviously not yourself this evening, my dear."

  Audra's legs were long, but not long enough to afford her the pleasure of kicking Raeburn under the table. She had to content herself with looking daggers at him, an expression he serenely ignored.

  Although he screwed up his face with every mouthful he took, he said, "For my part, I find the soup delicious. The best I ever ate."

  "Do you think so?" Audra asked. "I shall be certain to have my cook send yours the recipe so Your Grace may have it every day."

  "How considerate of you, Miss Masters. Just be sure the recipe is exact with nothing extra added. Like hemlock."

  Audra bit back a retort. She could have enjoyed this exchange but for her aunt's outraged expression. Mrs. Saunders never made jests nor understood them. Although it took a great deal of effort, Audra fixed her attention upon her plate, pretending she had not heard Raeburn's last comment.

  To her mortification, the rest of the meal was not much of an improvement upon the first course. Mrs. Saunders was quick to point this out, Raeburn just as swift to disagree with her. She found the mutton too tough. The duke said it melted in his mouth. Mrs. Saunders found Audra's choice of china a little garish. Raeburn declared the bright border so charming it even made the ragout of artichoke bottoms taste better. Her aunt insisted the roast of beef was overdone. Raeburn liked his meat a little burned.

  By the dessert course, even her aunt had lost some of her rigid composure. Audra feared to see Mrs. Saunders fling down her napkin at any moment and declare she was going to pack up her things. Audra did not wait for the dishes to be cleared away before rising and suggesting that the ladies retire to the parlor.

  She took great pains to assure Raeburn there was no need for him to rush on their account. "Enjoy your port, sir," she insisted. "Take as long as you like."

  "Until hell ices over, in fact," he murmured, quizzing her with those tormenting dark eyes.

  Audra could have told him that it was in a fair way to being frozen already. One look at her aunt's frosty expression was enough to assure anyone of that. But she contented herself with a stiff curtsy, following the other two women out of the room.

  No sooner had Audra entered the parlor, than Mrs. Saunders informed Cecily that the girl should retire. "I am sure His Grace will excuse you, child. You need your rest, and I need a few moments alone with your sister."

  Audra grimaced at the ominous sound of that, but she made no protest, for Cecily appeared quite glad to escape. After bidding a cheery good night, she forgot all of her ladylike graces and scampered out of the room, much after the fashion she had done as a little girl. Except that Muffin had never retired to bed before with such eagerness, Audra recalled with a rueful smile.

  Watching the girl depart, Audra keenly envied her, being in no humor to listen to one of Mrs. Saunders's tirades. The door had scarce closed on Cecily, when her aunt commenced at once to tear the Duke of Raeburn's character to shreds.

  "I declare that man must be quite mad. So disagreeable and such odd manners. He seems to possess no notion of his own consequence."

  Audra thought that was one of Raeburn's greatest charms, but it would hardly serve to point that out to Mrs. Saunders. As vexed as she was herself with His Grace, Audra had to curb a fierce desire to defend him against this attack.

  Her aunt continued, "And your own manner toward him, Audra! Far too free and easy. Most unbecoming. Do not think me a fool. I quite see what you are about with him."

  "You do?" Audra didn't think she was "about" anything with Raeburn, but astonishingly, she felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks.

  "I don't entirely blame you."

  "You don't?" Audra echoed, wishing she knew what the deuce they were talking about.

  "The duke is, after all, possessed of an ancient title, extensive estates and a handsome fortune. He must seem an ideal match for Cecily."

  "For Muffin?" Audra nearly laughed in her aunt's face. "She is quite terrified of the man. Raeburn would make a meal of her. He needs the sort of wife who will box his ears occasionally."

  "No lady ever strikes a gentleman. She finds some more genteel way of expressing her displeasure."

  "I suppose a swift kick to the shins would also serve the purpose."

  "You always did possess a most unseemly sense of humor, Audra," her aunt said severely. "However I am relieved to see that you at least realize the absurdity of your matchmaking efforts."

  "But I wasn't . . . I haven't—"

  "Besides being quite mad," Mrs. Saunders said, "I have never heard that His Grace has shown any inclination to be married."

  "That is where you are quite out, Aunt," Audra said, smiling at the memory of poor Raeburn besieged at the ball by eager ladies. "He has been searching most strenuously for a bride."

  "Has he?" Mrs. Saunders appeared skeptical, then thoughtful. "I suppose he is thinking of the succession. He is getting on in years."

  "Oh, quite in his dotage."

  Though her aunt froze her with a look, she ignored Audra's interruption. "That changes things entirely. If he is indeed marriage-minded, perhaps you did right to court his interest."

  "I see. A mad duke dangling for a wife is more acceptable than an insane one who wishes to remain unwed."

  "Don't be pert, miss. Small wonder that the duke treats you with such shocking familiarity. Your own improper attitude has encouraged him. I am sure yo
u don't want him thinking that you are like your mother."

  No, Audra didn't want that. But why did it sting so to hear Aunt Saunders say it?

  "At least one thing can be said for my mama," Audra snapped back, without thinking. "She never wanted for offers."

  Audra immediately regretted the remark. She had long ago sensed that Aunt Saunders, for all her criticism of Lady Arabella with her multiplicity of husbands, had envied her sister as well. Her aunt, who longed to be elevated to the peerage, had to content herself with being plain Mrs. Saunders, the only proposal she had ever received.

  As Audra saw a hint of red creep into her aunt's pale cheeks, her heart sank. Now she'd done it, whistled Cecily's London Season down the wind.

  The hand holding the lorgnette quivered, but her aunt replied in a controlled voice. "To be sure, Arabella did have many offers, but not all of them were respectable. I am sure we both want far different for Cecily."

  "Yes, Aunt. I am sorry."

  "Then we must strive to correct His Grace's impression that he may make so free in this house. You shall send Mrs. McGuiness to him, with our regrets. Inform him that we have all retired, but he may return tomorrow and call in more proper fashion. He will understand this subtle reproof that we found his conduct tonight unacceptable."

  Audra rolled her eyes. "I fear Raeburn is not given to accepting subtle reproofs, Aunt. If you have anything to say to him, you'd best do it more roundly."

  "I trust I know better than you, Audra. See that my instructions are carried out. Being still wearied from my journey, I am going up to bed. You would not want me to feel obliged to return to London so soon."

  Their eyes met, and Audra understood the implied threat. She must do as she was told or her aunt would depart at once. Audra didn't enjoy subtle reproofs any more than Raeburn would. But for Cecily's sake, she managed to swallow her pride and bid her aunt good night.

  After Mrs. Saunders had gone, Audra had no other vent for her anger than thrusting the poker savagely at the logs on the fire. She raised a flurry of crackles and sparks that disturbed Frou-frou, still dozing nearby in her basket. The dog regarded Audra through one sleepy eye, then went back to sleep.