Lord and Master

by Rosemary Stevens

  “Silence,” Lord Ravenswood commanded while he stepped down from the coach. He turned to the gaping footman. “Fetch a bedsheet, a blanket or something, and be quick about it.”

  Anthony bent over Mihos, who lay on the road stunned and breathing heavily. He saw the blood on the cat’s leg and silently prayed the limb was not broken. He reached out his hand and awkwardly, but gently, stroked the cat’s head. “That was a very silly thing to do, Mihos. You will not be flying about for a while, I daresay.”

  Mihos closed his eyes, and Anthony felt his heart lurch in sudden fear. “Eugene!”

  Although frightened by the cat’s condition, the manservant regained his calm air. “He is alive, master. Your touch merely soothed him, and he closed his eyes to rest. See how his sides are still rising and falling?”

  The footman came running with a large white bedsheet. Eugene took it from him and folded it. Together he and his lordship delicately moved the cat from the ground and laid him on the sheet.

  Eugene made as if to lift Mihos, but Lord Ravenswood was there before him. He gathered the cat, wrapped in the bedsheet, into his arms and turned to Eugene. “You do know how to take care of his wound?”

  Eugene’s mind raced. “In truth, master, I cannot say that I do.”

  “What?” Lord Ravenswood demanded.

  “But I am certain that Miss Shelby will know what to do. She was raised in a vicarage around many animals. Miss Kendall, I am told, also grew up in the country among cats and dogs. Between them, they are sure to be able to help Mihos.” Eugene held his breath, waiting for his master’s response.

  Anthony’s chief concern was to get the cat help immediately. There was no time to argue with Eugene or spend time wondering why the manservant had cried out the name “Bastet.”

  “Let us go to Clarges Street, then,” he said, and gave the driver the directions.

  He entered the coach once again, this time holding Mihos. As he gazed down at the cat, which appeared to be unconscious, he felt a strange tug at his heart.

  If only he could be certain Miss Kendall and Miss Shelby would know what to do. Then he remembered Miss Kendall’s advocacy of the cat at Astley’s. He remembered the way she had taken in three dogs, even if one of them was troublesome. He remembered her continued concern for Mihos after he had taken him home.

  Suddenly he felt himself relax in the knowledge that whatever the problem with Mihos, Miss Kendall would know how to handle it.

  Chapter Four

  Upstairs in Clarges Street, Daphne tried on one gown after another. Her lady’s maid, Biggs, wore an expression of strained patience.

  Daphne was determined to look her best this evening at Almack’s. She told herself this feeling sprang from a desire to charm Lord Guy into clearing Miss Shelby’s name. At the same time, a vision formed in her mind of the Earl of Ravenswood’s compelling brown eyes glancing appreciatively at her appearance.

  “What do you think, Biggs?” Daphne asked anxiously while holding an ivory satin gown with a green velvet trim in front of her. “Will this serve?”

  Although she knew very well her mistress appeared divine in the ivory dress. Biggs paused consideringly for a moment, then nodded her approval. “Yes, miss, I believe it is the very one. Only, the green velvet band around the sleeve is coming loose. Let me mend it for you quickly.”

  Daphne handed her the dress and threw on an old gray gown she used to wear on walks in the country. “Thank you, Biggs. How are your hands today? I wondered with the weather turning a bit warmer if the pain had lessened—

  She got no further because Miss Shelby burst into the room. The peach color in her cheeks was heightened, and her eyes were round with fear. “Daphne, you must come at once!”

  “What is wrong, Leonie?”

  Miss Shelby gasped for breath. “Cramble says Lord Ravenswood and Eugene are in the hall, and Mihos is bleeding to death!”

  Amid groans from Biggs, Daphne rushed past Miss Shelby and hurried down the stairs. In the hall she saw the elegant figure of Lord Ravenswood clutching what looked like a bundle of bedsheets. Eugene stood apprehensively at his side.

  “My lord, what happened? Cramble told Miss Shelby that Mihos is on the brink of death.”

  “I hope not,” Lord Ravenswood replied. He briefly outlined the particulars of the accident, ending with, “Miss Kendall, I apologize for calling like this, but Mihos is badly injured, and I need your help.”

  “And you shall have it, of course,” Daphne assured him. She stepped forward and lifted the white cotton that his lordship had used to cover the cat. Her gentle fingers felt around Mihos’s head, then examined the wound on his leg. “I do not believe he is in any serious danger.”

  Since she was mere inches from him, Lord Ravenswood was able to study the loveliness of her creamy-white complexion, marred only by the furrow of concern between her brows. He noticed her lashes were long and dark, a pretty frame for her light green eyes.

  Miss Shelby stood uncertainly, twisting her hands together in her concern. “How is he?” she asked, and peered over Daphne’s shoulder. “Oh! I have never been able to bear the sight of blood.”

  Fortunately Eugene was standing nearby and was able to catch her when she swooned.

  “Good heavens,” Daphne cried, faced with both an unconscious companion and an unconscious cat. “Eugene, would you be good enough to take Miss Shelby into the morning room? I shall ring for Biggs to assist you.”

  Eugene lifted Miss Shelby as if she weighed nothing and carried her away.

  Daphne turned back to a rueful Lord Ravenswood. He said, “I have well and truly disrupted your household. Miss Kendall.”

  “Nonsense. Now, I believe we might find a cozy spot for Mihos in the kitchen. Would you like me to take him?”

  Lord Ravenswood shook his head. “No, I shall carry him.”

  Daphne led the way to the kitchens. The smell of roast beef permeated the air, and the kitchen was alive with the preparations for dinner. A big, burly man with vibrant red hair, obviously the cook, held sway, shouting orders to the maids.

  A silence descended when Daphne and the earl entered the room.

  “Hamish,” Daphne began, “excuse the intrusion, but we have an injured cat here, and I wish for a place where I might tend his wounds.”

  Lord Ravenswood thought the brutish-looking cook would soon be shouting at them rather than the maids, but instead the man’s expression softened at the sight of Miss Kendall.

  “A kitty, is it? You just come right over here, miss, and I’ll bring the whiskey. Nothing like it for cleansing cuts... and the soul, if I do say so meself.” A boom of laughter emitted from the man’s chest after this pronouncement. He ambled over to a corner of the kitchen and spread a towel on a wooden table.

  Daphne and Lord Ravenswood moved across the room, and the earl carefully laid Mihos down.

  Daphne hurried away to the stillroom, leaving Hamish to look his lordship up and down in a measuring way. Lord Ravenswood felt like he was being judged by a considering father and could not like the feeling.

  No more than a moment or two passed, though, and Daphne reappeared with two small bottles. Hamish returned to his pots, and Daphne rolled up the sleeves of her gown and tied an apron around her waist. Ignoring the whiskey Hamish had placed on the table, she poured some of the contents of one of her bottles onto a clean cloth and gently began cleaning the wound on Mihos’s leg.

  Lord Ravenswood heard a small sigh escape her lips. “Is it severe? Will he lose the leg?”

  Daphne turned and smiled at him. Anthony experienced a rush of emotion at that smile, but told himself it was concern for Mihos that caused the sensation.

  “No, I believe the wound looks worse than it is because of the amount of blood on his fur. See, when it is cleared away, there is a nasty laceration indeed, but I am confident we can take care of that.”

  “Why has he not woken?”

  “Well, as to that, did you not say he bumped his head when he
threw himself at the coach?”

  “Yes.”

  ‘There is our answer. He may have a very slight concussion. I cannot feel any lump on his head, so I believe it not to be critical. He should regain consciousness at any time.” She chuckled. “One might say we are fortunate he has not yet awoken, so we may tend him without any protests.”

  Lord Ravenswood watched her every movement as she spread a vile-smelling liniment over the cleaned wound. “You are a capable lady, Miss Kendall. I am most grateful for your assistance, and am pleased Eugene suggested we bring Mihos to you.”

  Daphne felt a glow inside at the earl’s compliment, but it was followed by a little pang of disappointment that he had not thought of her himself.

  Still, she smiled her thanks at him. “You are aware, I think, of my fondness for animals. Mihos holds a special place in my heart.”

  “He is not a bad fellow,” his lordship allowed.

  Daphne thought the cat had worked his way into the earl’s unwilling heart, but kept her opinion to herself. She called to an eager maid of about fourteen years and gave instructions on watching the cat and what to do if he woke. Another maid entered the kitchen and reported that Miss Shelby had recovered and had asked for tea.

  Hearing Hamish grumbling about his roast having to be kept warm, Daphne gathered her medicines and impulsively turned to the earl. “My lord, would you care to dine with us this evening?”

  Lord Ravenswood put a hand to his head. “Good God, the Blenkinsops. I was to dine with them before Almack’s. I have been horribly rude, as they expected me almost an hour ago.”

  “Almack’s,” Hamish blustered. “Glad I ain’t a member of the Quality and forced to drink that weak punch I hear they serve.”

  Daphne ignored the cook and pinned a bright expression on her face. “You must go, then, my lord, and perhaps I shall see you later at Almack’s.”

  Lord Ravenswood bowed. “Thank you for your invaluable assistance, Miss Kendall, and for your kind invitation to dine. As you are to attend Almack’s as well, may I ask that you save a waltz for me?”

  Daphne’s breath caught in her throat. He was standing so close. His eyes held hers and mentally took her to that place where they were alone. “Yes, I shall save you a waltz,” she whispered.

  Lord Ravenswood kept his gaze on hers for a moment while he gave a last stroke to Mihos’s head. Then he left the room.

  Daphne stood imagining how it would feel to be held in the earl’s arms for their promised dance. She remembered hoping at the Huntingdon’s musicale that she might share a dance with him tonight at Almack’s, and now her wish would be granted.

  She absently washed her hands, then reached behind her to untie the apron about her waist, and her hands froze. Heavens! After all the trouble she had put herself and Biggs through earlier deciding on a gown to wear, here his lordship had seen her in her oldest, plainest gown!

  Tarnation! Embarrassment brought color to her cheeks, and she determined she would captivate him at Almack’s.

  Then a stray thought flitted across her mind. Was she capable of affecting the aloof earl in matters of the heart? Or was he destined to become yet another gentleman put off by her Fatal Flaw?

  If only she knew what it was.

  * * * *

  Lord Chesterfield’s observation, about how gentlemen would flock to Daphne’s side now that Miss Oakswine was dead, proved accurate. Daphne herself had no idea Miss Oakswine had ever put about such a nonsensical story about living with her once she was wed. Therefore the attentions she received when she arrived at Almack’s bewildered her, pleasing as they were.

  Miss Shelby remained at her side before the first dance, making predictions about each gentlemen who rushed to present himself.

  Of Sir Tredair, she said he fancied himself a poet and would bore her to death with his prose.

  Puritan-looking Lord Edgecombe was undoubtedly a monk in a former life.

  Mr. Smythe-Benton’s thoughts were impure in the extreme, Miss Shelby said while fanning her cheeks vigorously.

  Daphne giggled through all of Miss Shelby’s declarations. In truth, she found none of the gentlemen interested her, save one who had yet to make his appearance.

  Her dance card was filling rapidly so she hastily scribbled Lord Ravenswood’s name for the second waltz of the evening.

  At present Lord Guy bowed before her. “Miss Kendall, I congratulate you on a wise choice of gowns for one with your hair color.”

  Daphne could not miss the implication that red hair was not the fashion. While she knew it to be the truth, it was rude of Lord Guy to remind her. She gritted her teeth. “Thank you, my lord.”

  His coat this evening was vibrant purple. The intricately embroidered waistcoat he wore contained threads of every shade of purple Daphne had ever seen. His quizzing glass was encrusted in amethysts.

  “May I hope, Miss Kendall, that you have a dance for me?”

  “The first waltz is not yet claimed,” Daphne replied. She had reserved it for him, thinking it would give her an opportunity to talk with him and thereby further Miss Shelby’s case.

  Lord Guy was content. He had noted the number of gentlemen bestowing their attentions on pretty Miss Kendall. She was in demand. Therefore Lord Guy wished for her presence at his side to increase his own consequence.

  He raised her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the air above it. “Every minute that passes until our dance will seem an hour.”

  And every minute spent with him will seem an hour, Daphne mused. She dropped a polite curtsy to Lord Guy before he moved away.

  Her first partner, Lord Christopher, was an amiable gentleman who danced well and set himself to please. But Daphne’s attention was soon caught by the party just entering the room. Lord Ravenswood escorted Mrs. Blenkinsop and her daughter, Elfleta.

  The earl had changed his clothes since his visit to her house earlier. He now wore a very dark blue evening coat over pearl-colored breeches.

  Daphne felt a rush of excitement upon seeing him. He was the most handsome gentleman in the room, she decided in that instant.

  Well, she thought, tilting her head and attempting to study him objectively, perhaps if she viewed all the gentlemen in the room impartially, the earl’s features to some would not be the most pleasing. It did not matter. What was significant was the effect Lord Ravenswood’s company had upon her.

  Seeing the direction of her gaze, Lord Christopher said, “Ravenswood is back in England after a long absence. Do you know him?”

  Daphne flushed at her discourteous behavior in ignoring her partner. “Yes, I have made his acquaintance.”

  “I do not expect he will be in Town long.”

  Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Happy to have her attention at last, Lord Christopher warmed to his subject. “Everyone knows the earl is only in London while his country estate is made livable again. He cares for Raven’s Hall much more than his father ever did. You know the old earl married a beautiful, younger woman who led him to his ruin.”

  “No, I did not know,” Daphne replied slowly. Her gaze traveled back to where Lord Ravenswood stood in conversation with Mrs. Blenkinsop and Elfleta. They had come from their dinner together, she surmised, and the earl was continuing to award his attentions to Elfleta.

  Lord Christopher nodded his head toward the couple. “Miss Blenkinsop would never follow in those types of footsteps. Quiet little thing. Would not give Ravenswood a minute’s trouble. And I imagine he would value a compliant wife.”

  Daphne pursed her lips. Was that what Lord Ravenswood was looking for here in Town during the Season? A compliant wife? How disappointing. How dull. It was certainly a good thing she learned this bleak truth before she became overly fond of him!

  Her dance with Lord Christopher ended, and her next partner came to claim her. For an hour Daphne danced and flirted with several gentlemen, all the while a part of her mind dwelled on Lord Ravenswood and his search for a submissive wife. One fact
was clear in her brain: she could never be thought of as docile and manageable.

  It was only when Lord Guy minced over to her with a glass of lemonade that she was able to turn her thoughts to other matters.

  “You must be thirsty, Miss Kendall, after being dragged about the dance floor by those clodpoles,” Lord Guy asserted in his superior way.

  In truth, something to drink was welcome, but Daphne feared Lord Guy’s presence alone was enough to put a sour taste in her mouth, without the addition of the tart lemonade. She reminded herself of Miss Shelby’s reputation, though, and thanked him warmly.

  Across the room Anthony watched them with a jaundiced eye. He stood beside Mrs. Blenkinsop, who was holding a conversation with another woman. Miss Blenkinsop had been led away for the dance.

  Anthony could hear Mrs. Blenkinsop boasting at the fact that her daughter’s hand had been immediately solicited for a dance by no less a personage than a marquess upon their entering the ballroom. He believed the calculating woman had probably arranged it herself. He was no green one and recognized blatant attempts at matchmaking when he saw them.

  The Blenkinsops had been all affability when he had tried to apologize for his tardiness earlier at dinner. But of course, they gushed sympathetically, they understood about the accident. And how was the poor dear kitty? Why, their Elf would be positively downhearted at the thought of an animal being hurt.

  This assertion had not proven correct, however, in Anthony’s estimation. Upon hearing the story of Mihos’s accident, Elfleta had asked quietly if the cat was dead. When assured it was not, no great relief could be detected on her pale face.

  Anthony found himself puzzled at his own reaction to Miss Blenkinsop’s uncaring attitude toward Mihos. What did it matter if she disliked animals? He was surely not allowing the striped cat to hold a place in his affections, he thought, forgetting how his heart had stood still when he saw the cat lying on the road unconscious.

  Still, he could not help but compare Elfleta’s disregard for the cat’s well-being to Miss Kendall’s compassionate nursing of the animal.

  He gave himself a mental shake. There were enough servants at Raven’s Hall to handle any injuries to the creatures in their care. It would not matter if his wife ignored the needs of animals.