The Wooing of Miss Masters

by Susan Carroll

  In the act of sipping her tea, Audra choked. Miss Georgianna's reaction was no less spectacular. Dropping her slice of bread buttered side down on her frock, she cried out, "The duke! Oh, dear, oh dear. What should I do, Miss Masters? If only Sophia was here. Should I receive His Grace myself?"

  It was all Audra could do to refrain from shouting out a resounding, "No." It would have been useless in any case for the flustered Georgianna did not wait for her answer. She bade the butler to show His Grace in.

  Wringing her hands, Miss Georgianna gave Audra a nervous smile. "Such an unlooked-for honor. His Grace has never called upon us before. He does have a way of appearing in the most unexpected fashion, does he not?"

  "Like the very devil," Audra murmured. "In another day and age, he would have been burned at the stake for sorcery."

  Georgianna looked considerably startled by this remark, but Audra was spared the trouble of trying to explain it by the arrival of Raeburn himself.

  He loomed in the doorway, like the brooding dark wizard that he was. Audra stiffened. If there was any place in the shire she should have been safe from such a chance encounter, it was here at Grayhawk Manor, the home of a man Raeburn held in contempt.

  Audra could not help entertaining the suspicion it was not the Entwhistles the duke had come to see. After all, Cecily had informed His Grace exactly where she would be that afternoon.

  Audra's suspicion only deepened when Raeburn strode into the room. He bent over Miss Georgianna's hand, terrifying her with his gruff, "How do you do, madam." But it was at Audra he stared, one brow arched in inquiry, his eyes dark with challenge.

  It was a challenge Audra felt unequal to meeting. Her heart thumping madly, she wished she had time to compose herself. How did a woman go about calmly greeting a rejected suitor? She was constantly finding herself pitchforked into these situations the deportment books never covered.

  In an agony of embarrassment, she managed to get out little more than a curt, "Good afternoon, Your Grace."

  When the other three women returned from touring the house, Audra took the first available opportunity to escape to the other end of the room, pretending to be deeply absorbed by the view out the window, although through the haze of her turbulent emotions, she saw nothing.

  Neither the Misses Entwhistle nor Cecily were forceful enough to keep Raeburn engaged in conversation, but Audra assumed that her aunt would be. She was wrong. On the pretext of bringing her another cup of tea, Raeburn joined her at the window.

  "Attempting to cut my acquaintance, Miss Masters?" he asked softly.

  "No," she faltered. "I was merely admiring the view. There is the most charming . . ." She paused, squinting past the curtains. Exactly what was out there?

  "Stables, Miss Masters. They are called stables. It is where the horses are kept." With a wry half smile, he offered her the cup and saucer, but she shook her head. Her hands were trembling so badly, she did not dare accept it.

  He set the china down while she played with the lace at the throat of her gown. She could not bring herself to look at him, but she was all too aware of his presence, how close he stood. It was an idiotic thing to be realizing at this particular moment, but how much she had missed the wretched man these past days, the gruff sound of his voice.

  "How astonishing to see you here this afternoon," she said to cover her own confusion. "I know Sir Ralph is not exactly a favorite of yours."

  "Nor yours either," he reminded her. "Myself, I felt the need of a little company. It is rather dull at the castle. My sister returned to Hampstead yesterday, you know."

  "No, I had not heard."

  "I fear Gus left rather disheartened. All that effort she put into arranging that ball to see me leg-shackled to some proper young lady, and now, not a prospective duchess to show for it."

  "Lady Augusta cannot blame you for that. I am sure you did your best to . . . to find a bride."

  "Did I? I am beginning to think I might have given up far too easily. You look very pale, Audra. Your sister tells me you have been ill."

  "Cecily is a goose!" she said with a fierce blush and admitted reluctantly, "Perhaps I have been feeling a little strange of late. But it is nothing fatal, I assure you. I will recover."

  "Likely you will, my dear. But why do you want to?"

  Glancing up, her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, Audra could not recollect the reason herself. The conversation seemed to have slipped into very dangerous channels. Wrenching her gaze away, she took a step back murmuring, "Perhaps we should both return to our seats, Your Grace. I fear my aunt is staring at us."

  This was perfectly true. Mrs. Saunders had trained her lorgnette upon their tete-a-tete with a disapproving frown. Skirting past Raeburn, Audra resumed her place among the other ladies.

  Simon made no immediate effort to follow suit. Silently cursing himself for a fool, he thought that he should never have come to Grayhawk Manor. He had only decided to do so earlier that day after he had spoken with Cecily in the lane. The girl's innocent prattle had let slip the interesting fact that Audra had been behaving in ways most unlike herself of late.

  Indeed she must be to ever consider crossing Sir Ralph's threshold, a man she quite detested. Since Audra's rejection of his suit, stubborn pride had kept Simon from pursuing her any further. But Cecily's report of her sister's listless manner had intrigued him, given him cause for hope. Enough so that he felt he must see Audra again.

  One look into her eyes had told him she'd been as miserable as he these past days. But at his gentle probing, he had watched the familiar alarm chase across her features, making her once more ready to bolt.

  Perhaps he had turned out to be a very poor dragon after all, so easily turned aside by her wall of thorns. Yet he knew he could be as fierce and demanding as he pleased, but to no avail. There were some fears the lady could only conquer herself.

  He had accomplished nothing by coming here except perhaps to stir the embers of his own frustration and disappointment. Consequently he prepared to take his leave when the parlor door opened to admit Sir Ralph.

  The baronet's portly features were flushed red with excitement. "B'gawd, it has arrived. You must all come out at once."

  Simon did not have the damnedest notion what it was, nor much interest in finding out. But Sir Ralph clearly meant to give none of them any peace until they had all trooped outside to view his latest acquisition.

  While the ladies gathered up their shawls, Simon retrieved his own Garrick and high-crowned hat from the butler. Sir Ralph led them out to the front of the house. Simon perceived nothing remarkable, only a horse and cart pulled to on the gravel drive. Sir Ralph's huntsman was unloading what appeared to be a small cage from the back of the cart.

  Upon closer inspection, Simon realized that cowering behind the wire mesh was a small silver-gray fox, the cub's large liquid eyes wide with terror.

  "Oh, how sweet," cooed Cecily.

  "Vermin!" Mrs. Saunders shuddered.

  "No, a vixen," Sir Ralph said. "Confiscated it from one of my tenants. The fool had found an entire litter of foxes abandoned and never told me. This is the only one that survived and he was letting his daughter keep it as a pet. Of all the nonsense."

  The baronet chuckled, giving Simon a nudge. "After this beauty is raised to be a mite bigger, the little vixen should provide my hounds with some good sport, eh, Your Grace?"

  Raeburn vouchsafed no answer, glowering in disgust at Entwhistle's notion of sport. But disgust was too mild a word to apply to Audra's reaction. She turned quite pale, the stricken look in her eyes not much different from the vixen trapped within the cage.

  Shivering in the chill November air, the other ladies soon lost interest and returned to the drawing room. Sir Ralph had stepped round to the front of the cart to deliver some instructions regarding the disposition of the fox to his huntsman.

  Audra bit down upon her lip, seeming unable to tear herself away. As her head came slowly up, never had she appeared so vu
lnerable, her gaze meeting Simon's in mute appeal.

  He swore under his breath, knowing he was about to make a great cake of himself. He would be lucky if that fool Entwhistle did not have a fit of apoplexy, but he hunkered down anyway and began to undo the latch of the cage.

  The fox crouched away from him in fear. Simon proceeded with caution. Even if the vixen had been raised as a pet, it was still a thing of the wilds.

  "Oh, be careful. She might bite you," Audra said, bending down beside him. "Here, take my shawl."

  Whipping it from her shoulders, she handed him the soft length of wool. Simon managed to catch the vixen up in the bright folds. Although the animal trembled and shivered, it offered no resistance.

  As he placed the bundled cub into Audra's eager outstretched hands, Simon had his reward. For the first time since she had rejected his proposal, she smiled at him.

  Raeburn was not given long to bask in the moment for Sir Ralph had become aware that some mischief was afoot.

  "What the deuce!" he shouted, coming round the side of the cart. Simon prepared to head him off, but he saw Audra straighten, the spark of fire coming into her eyes and knew that Entwhistle was about to receive the trimming of his life.

  "What the blazes are you planning to do with my fox, Miss Masters?" Sir Ralph demanded with a scowl.

  "Run," she gasped out.

  This strange answer was not the furious response that Raeburn had expected, any more than the look of panic that overtook her. But he fast saw the reason for this sudden change in expression. It was not inspired by fear of Entwhistle but of three large hounds that came loping up from the stableyard.

  On such a cold, cloudy day, the scent of fox carried quite clearly. The dogs would have no difficulty locating their prey, even if the terrified vixen had not been peeking out from the folds of the shawl.

  With a loud baying, the hounds charged in Audra's direction. She turned to flee, attempting to hold the cub high out of reach. Raeburn managed to collar one of the dogs, but Sir Ralph's cursing and kicking out with his thick boots only made the situation worse.

  Audra thought the wisest course might have been to return the fox to the safety of its cage, but it was too late for that now. One of the dogs was already leaping at her skirts. Her only escape seemed to lie in the direction of the house.

  Stumbling up the steps, beneath the portico of the gray stone Georgian manor, she heard Raeburn's shouts behind her above the din of the dogs and Sir Ralph's bellows. But the undisciplined hounds heeded neither of the two men.

  With a mighty jump, the largest dog caught the end of the shawl in its powerful jaws. Audra shoved frantically at the manor's heavy oak door, stumbling inside. As she sought to bar the dogs entry, the terrified vixen sank its teeth into Audra's hand.

  She cried out at the sharp pain, dropping both shawl and fox, letting the door swing wide. The animal streaked across the hall in a blur of gray, the dogs hard after it. It was unfortunate that Mrs. Saunders chose that particular moment to fling open the drawing room door, demanding, "What is this unseemly—"

  Her sentence trailed off in a gasp as the fox shot past her skirts. She had no time to recover before the two dogs rushed forward, knocking her over in their frantic haste.

  The pandemonium that followed would remain forever a merciful blur in Audra's mind. She would recollect nothing but a scene of confusion, shrieking women, shattering china and barking dogs.

  How long the chaos might have continued she did not know, except that Raeburn had the presence of mind to fling open a window, offering the fox an avenue of escape. With the aid of Sir Ralph's huntsman, he got the dogs under control and removed from the parlor.

  Only then did Audra fully realize what a fright she had had. She sank down into an armchair, clutching her injured hand. Grimacing, she surveyed the disaster that was the drawing room. Bits of broken saucers were strewn everywhere, tables overturned and tea soaking a stain into the carpet. The elder Miss Entwhistle lay moaning upon the settee while Cecily and Georgianna strove to revive her with smelling salts. Aunt Saunders pursed her lips, staring at the muddied paw prints on her gown.

  The only one who appeared calm was Raeburn. He produced his handkerchief and stanched the trickle of blood escaping from Audra's wound.

  "Fetch me some brandy, Entwhistle," he snapped.

  But Sir Ralph was too preoccupied lamenting the loss of his fox. "B'gawd, sir," he bawled. "You've cost me one of the likeliest little vixens I ever saw. I should call you out for this. So I should."

  But one black look from Raeburn put a stop to the baronet's bluster. Unfortunately Mrs. Saunders was not so easily silenced. As soon as she had recovered from her shock, she rounded upon Audra in an icy fury.

  "You! You are to blame for this vulgar incident."

  "The fault lies more with me, madam," Raeburn began, but Mrs. Saunders took no heed of him, continuing to lash out at Audra.

  "This was all a malicious jest, another example of your coarse sense of humor. You set those dogs in here on purpose."

  "Of course, I did not, Aunt," Audra said wearily.

  "I thought you had finally changed, abandoned your odd ways and acquired some notion of proper conduct. But you still have no more notion how to behave like a lady than the veriest trollop, any more so than your mama ever had. I completely wash my hands of you this time. I never intend to set foot beneath any roof that harbors you again."

  Audra heard Raeburn draw in an angry breath, but before he could say anything, she placed her hand firmly on his, giving a warning squeeze.

  "I quite understand, Aunt Saunders," she said. "But you will not hold this against Cecily? You will still take her to London?"

  "Of course. If for no other reason than to remove the child from your deplorable sphere of influence."

  "Well, I won't go!" Cecily's passionate declaration startled them all, rendering even Mrs. Saunders momentarily speechless. The girl straightened from bending over Miss Entwhistle. Cecily's delicate features were flushed.

  "Muffin . . ." Audra tried to caution her, but she had never seen her younger sister tremble with such anger.

  Tears stinging her blue eyes, Cecily stomped her small foot. "You have done nothing but insult my sister ever since you came to Meadow Lane, Aunt Saunders, and I am wearied of it. If you are going to be this mean to Audra, I wish that you had never come to visit us, never invited me to your house."

  Mrs. Saunders's lips thinned, her eyes turning to slivers of ice. "Your wish is easily granted, child."

  In a state of high dudgeon, she stalked from the room. Raeburn whistled softly under his breath, eying Cecily with admiration. Audra had to swallow past a lump in her throat. Although she was deeply moved by her sister's unexpected championship, she could not help exclaiming, "Oh, Muffin! What have you done?"

  Cecily gave a shrug that was a shade too careless. "It is of no consequence, Audra. Who wanted to go to dull old London anyway?"

  After which heroic declaration, she burst into tears and sank down, burying her face in Audra's lap.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Upon her return to Meadow Lane Lodge, Mrs. Saunders wasted no time in gathering up her maid and her belongings. She would not spend so much as another night in the company of such ungrateful hoydens as both her nieces had shown themselves to be. Drained herself by the day's events, Audra made no effort to dissuade her.

  She was far too preoccupied with soothing Cecily. Suffering from a state of overexcitement and keen disappointment, the girl had wept herself into a megrim. After administering some hartshorn to her sister, Audra felt relieved when Cecily drifted off to sleep.

  She was not on hand to witness Mrs. Saunders's departure. The sky had just darkened to a shade of deep purple when that outraged lady flounced out to her carriage. Audra very civilly accompanied her, waiting until she saw her aunt safely bestowed inside the coach, although Mrs. Saunders refused to even bid her farewell.

  Audra stepped back as the coachman whipped up the
team. The carriage had not even reached the bend in the lane when the Duke of Raeburn's mount galloped into sight. Raeburn cheerfully tipped his hat to the passing coach, a gesture that, Audra was certain, went quite unacknowledged.

  She lingered on her doorstep, watching the duke's approach, for once not surprised to see him. Somehow she had known he would come to her this evening.

  He drew rein in front of the cottage, the wind whipping at the ends of his riding cape. As he stared down at her, his half smile glinted in the gathering dusk.

  "I take it you are at home this time, Miss Masters?"

  "I believe so, Your Grace," she said demurely.

  Dismounting, he consigned his horse to the care of one of her grooms, and followed Audra inside. Mrs. McGuiness sniffed with disapproval to discover that Audra had usurped her prerogative of admitting visitors, but she bustled away to fetch refreshments to the parlor.

  Still chilled from being out of doors without her shawl, Audra stepped near the fire, holding out her hands to the blaze to warm them. Although very conscious of Raeburn's nearness, she felt strangely calm.

  "I saw your aunt leaving posthaste," the duke remarked. "Such dire consequences of our little adventure this afternoon. Do you know that Sir Ralph has vowed never to invite either of us to tea again?"

  A wry smile escaped Audra. "I think we shall manage to survive."

  "How is your hand?" he asked, stepping closer. "You must take care not to let it become infected. Does it still hurt?"

  Audra shook her head. Her calm threatened to desert her at the prospect of his touch. But she made no movement to pull away when he took her hand, examining the bandage wrapped about her wrist.

  Raeburn swore softly. "I am sorry, Audra. The entire disaster was all my doing. If I had not removed that blasted fox from its cage—"

  "You only did so to please me. I doubt one man in a hundred would understand my foolish tender¬heartedness toward animals. And you are the only one I know who would have acted upon it."