Lord and Master

by Rosemary Stevens

  Furthermore it was absurd to make the assumption that Miss Kendall’s caring nature for animals would extend to humans, most particularly himself. His chances of leading a peaceful, well-ordered existence were much greater if he chose a plain, obedient girl to wed, regardless of how lukewarm her nature was.

  Elfleta was returned by the marquess to her mama, who cheerfully handed her daughter over to the earl for the waltz.

  On the floor Anthony marveled at the fragile girl who performed the steps of the waltz flawlessly.

  “Miss Blenkinsop, I must congratulate you on your dancing.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Did you spend many hours with a dancing master?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I am not holding you too tightly, am I?”

  “No, my lord.”

  Anthony felt smug. She was exactly what he wanted in a wife. Then he raised a gloved hand to cover his yawn.

  In the act of doing so, he spied Miss Kendall being twirled about the room in the arms of Lord Guy. Her auburn hair shone in the candlelight.

  ’Twas a pity Lord Guy would not appreciate her beauty, being too concerned with his own. The coxcomb did know how to dance, he would give him that. He wondered how Miss Kendall’s plan to clear Miss Shelby’s name was progressing.

  Dancing with Lord Guy, Daphne was very much pleased with the way things were going. Even though the fop would never admit it was he who stole the ivory cat figurine from the duchess, he had been brought around to saying he did not think it all likely Miss Shelby had been the culprit.

  Daphne smiled at him. “Oh, Lord Guy, I am happy to hear you say that. Dear Leonie has been so troubled by the whole affair.”

  “Well,” Lord Guy said a bit uncomfortably, “my Aunt does have a way of taking an idea and running with it.”

  Daphne nodded knowingly. “I am certain the duchess would take your word if you were to express the opinion that Miss Shelby was innocent.”

  Lord Guy looked doubtful. “Best, perhaps, to let sleeping dogs lie, what?”

  Daphne looked shocked. “If only you could! But I know someone of your honor and integrity could not let an innocent woman stand accused of a crime she did not commit. No, indeed. Why, it would totally go against your nature.”

  Lord Guy puffed out his chest. “Alas, what we gentlemen suffer—gladly, mind you—in the name of honor. Yes, I shall speak to my Aunt, Miss Kendall, never fear.”

  Daphne felt a twinge of conscience as Lord Guy strolled away. She really had turned him up sweet for her own motives. But these motives were of the purest, she reminded herself, which was more than she could say for Lord Guy’s purposes.

  Her hand was claimed for every dance. She had no time to converse with Miss Shelby, who she thought appeared bored to death, sitting with the other chaperons. Daphne decided Leonie was missing Eugene’s company. The manservant must have decided to wait outside for the earl.

  At last Lord Ravenswood bowed over her hand. “Miss Shelby told me you saved the second waltz for me.”

  Daphne found herself trembling at the touch of his gloved hand and chided herself for behaving like a young miss in her first Season. “Yes, my lord.”

  The music began, and he swept her into his arms.

  If she felt shaky before, it was nothing compared to me rush of feelings coursing through her now. The pressure of the earl’s hand at her waist was light, yet her body responded as if he was using all his strength to pull her against him. She was shocked down to her soul to find herself wanting to close the distance between them.

  None of this inner struggle showed on her face, however. “You will want to know that Mihos awakened before I left home. He took a little water and fell asleep.”

  “I am relieved to hear it. He will not be too much of a burden for you, will he?’ Lord Ravenswood asked, straining to keep his gaze well above the green velvet band that framed the low cut of her dress.

  “Not at all,” Daphne assured him. It was difficult to keep her breathing steady with his face so close to hers. She noticed his eyelashes were black and heavy. “I am looking forward to seeing some of the artifacts you brought back from Egypt, my lord.”

  “I hope you will not be disappointed, Miss Kendall.” God, but her skin looked smooth. He longed to rip off his glove and touch her shoulder with his bare fingertip to see if it could possibly feel as soft as it looked.

  And the way she smelled reminded him of the flowers that grew in spring at Raven’s Hall. “I received a message from my friend, William Bullock, informing me the exhibits have been quite popular since the opening of his Egyptian Hall.”

  “I know I shall enjoy it,” Daphne assured him. She also knew they must be floating over Almack’s, as the feeling she was experiencing could not be of this earth.

  Anthony looked down at the pink curve of her lips. He had a sudden urge to know their taste. He stiffened his shoulders. This would not do. He had already determined Miss Kendall was not a candidate for his countess. “How goes your plot with Lord Guy?”

  The smile faded from Daphne’s lips. There was a definite note of censure in the earl’s voice. She raised her chin. “My lord, I get the impression I do not have your approval in my efforts to help my companion.”

  The earl affected an air of boredom. “On the contrary, Miss Kendall, I neither approve nor disapprove of your actions where Lord Guy is concerned, since they do not pertain to me.”

  Daphne felt her cheeks grow hot. “How true. I do not seek your approval anyway,” she lied. “But just so you know, Lord Guy is going to clear Miss Shelby’s name of a crime she did not commit.”

  Lord Ravenswood raised a brow. “A crime? Are you and Lord Guy taking on a task best left to the Bow Street Runners?”

  “You would have me allow Miss Shelby to be subjected to the questioning of those rough men?” Daphne asked, her voice tight.

  Ignoring the question, Anthony asked one of his own. “Just what is this misdeed Miss Shelby is accused of?”

  Daphne was rattled by his cool demeanor. “It would not be proper of me to discuss it with you. I assure you, though, I am intelligent enough to handle the situation without any help at all.”

  “Of that, Miss Kendall, I am more than confident,” the earl stated dryly.

  Daphne frowned. What did he mean by that cryptic remark? But she had no time to explore the meaning as the music died away and the earl bowed before her.

  “Ah, here is your next partner. Beyond a doubt, you have been in demand this evening, Miss Kendall. But then, with your beauty it could be no other way.”

  Daphne stared at him. One moment it seemed he had thrown her a veiled insult, and then he was complimenting her.

  His gaze held hers for an intense moment. Sir Tredair grew impatient. “I say, Miss Kendall, the reel is about to begin ...” He held out his arm to her expectantly.

  Daphne accepted the poet’s arm. “Good evening, Lord Ravenswood,” she said dismissively.

  “Until tomorrow. I shall call on you at three of the clock.”

  The earl returned to Miss Blenkinsop’s side and claimed her hand for a second dance. Fans raised, and whispering about the couple pervaded the room. Could it be that mouse-like Miss Blenkinsop had stolen a march on all the other hopefuls?

  Daphne mechanically performed the steps of the reel. Her spirits were low, and she was angry at herself for allowing the earl to affect her this way.

  His behavior was a mystery to her. But then, the gentlemen often puzzled her with their long, appraising looks and pretty speeches, which never amounted to anything more.

  What was no mystery, she reflected grimly, was that Lord Ravenswood was making his preference for Miss Blenkinsop clear to all.

  Chapter Five

  “Grraow!” Mihos growled angrily.

  “James,” Daphne said, a touch of exasperation in her voice, “Perhaps it might be best to move the dogs’ bed to the kitchen.”

  James chuckled and limped across th
e drawing room to obey his mistress. “Yes, miss. I never seen no cat what got along with dogs in my life. Don’t reckon that striped devil will be any different.”

  Daphne rested a restraining hand on Mihos, who lay on his side on the sofa. He had been awake and grumpy since early that morning. He was really too weak to try to stand on his own and took severe exception to the bulky bandage wrapped around his hind leg, reaching back to bite at it angrily every few minutes.

  Matters had worsened when Daphne moved the cat from her bedchamber, where he had slept the night before, to the drawing room. Mihos had raised his nose at once and smelled the sheet of flannel in the corner. He had not been pleased at the canine fragrance exuding from the cloth.

  Now James folded the material and took it out of the room while Daphne spoke soothingly to Mihos.

  The cat began to relax under the gentle massage of Daphne’s fingers, but then suddenly lifted his head and looked expectantly toward the drawing room door.

  “Miss,” Cramble said from the doorway, “Lord Ravenswood.”

  “Grraow,” Mihos cried joyfully.

  Daphne immediately tightened her grip on the cat, fearful he would try to run to the earl and end up on the floor with a reopened wound.

  Attired in a beautifully cut burgundy-colored coat and dove-gray pantaloons, Lord Ravenswood crossed the threshold of the room and stopped at the picture presented by Miss Kendall seated on the sofa next to Mihos.

  Her gown of pale blue muslin with deeper blue dots fell about her gracefully. A pretty long-sleeved spencer in the same shade of blue as the gown’s dots flattered her figure. Her eyes sparkled a welcome, and her dark auburn hair gleamed under a fashionable bonnet of dark blue.

  He bowed to her. “Miss Kendall, you enchant me. Few are the ladies of my acquaintance who do me the honor of being ready to leave upon the designated hour.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Daphne responded, pleased. “But how tiresome for you that you only know females so sadly lacking in manners.”

  Lord Ravenswood’s dark eyes twinkled in appreciation of this sally. “I daresay you are correct. I hope you may care for roses,” he said, referring to the dewy-blossomed bouquet he held. Often gentlemen gifted their dancing partners from the evening before with floral tributes. For some reason he had taken special pleasure in selecting this offering for Mihos’s lovely caretaker.

  “I do indeed, and yellow roses are my favorite.” Daphne smiled at him, then felt the cat under her hand strain toward his lordship. “No, Mihos, you must stay where you are.”

  To the earl she said, “Mihos spent a restful night and is refreshed enough to have become a difficult patient.”

  Lord Ravenswood removed his gaze from Miss Kendall with a seeming effort. He saw that the cat looked ready to spring from his place, and at that moment the animal stretched a paw out to him.

  The earl placed the flowers on a side table. He closed the few steps between himself and the sofa, and bent to stroke the cat, who purred contentedly. “I am grateful for your efforts on Mihos’s behalf, Miss Kendall. But I must say, we are in a coil now.”

  Daphne raised a questioning eyebrow at him. She felt her pulse quicken at his nearness, and when he turned to look at her, she felt more drawn to him than ever. “What is that, my lord?” she inquired softly.

  Anthony experienced an urge to transfer his hand from the feline to trace a line along Miss Kendall’s jaw. He did no such thing, however, but said in a low voice, “Now that I am here, I wonder how I can leave.”

  As she looked into his dark eyes, Daphne told herself Lord Ravenswood surely meant it was because Mihos would likely cause a commotion at his departure. But perhaps he was implying something else—

  A cough sounded from the direction of the doorway.

  “Yes, James,” Daphne said, feeling an unexplainable wave of frustration at the footman’s presence.

  Lord Ravenswood straightened and moved away.

  “Excuse me, miss,” James said, coloring up at what Daphne knew must appear to be an intimate scene. “I wanted to tell you Hamish wouldn’t hold with having the dogs’ bed in the kitchen. I took it upon myself to move it to the library.”

  Daphne felt her cheeks grow hot. Here was James looking uncomfortable at having interrupted her and the earl. And most embarrassing, for a moment, she had believed Lord Ravenswood was forming a tendre for her. She must have taken leave of her senses.

  She pulled herself out of these ruminations, realizing the footman was waiting for her response. “An excellent scheme, James. Thank you.”

  But her troubles were not over. Miss Shelby could be heard fretting to herself in the hallway. “Oh, dear, and I did think perhaps with the full moon coming tomorrow night, something romantic might happen, and the two of them indeed smelled of April and May.”

  The older woman swept into the room as James departed, though, and acted as if nothing had happened, totally ignoring the mortified expression on Daphne’s face.

  Thankfully Miss Shelby’s unfortunate musings must not have reached Lord Ravenswood’s ears. He exchanged greetings with Miss Shelby without discomfort, answering that yes, Eugene had accompanied him and was waiting outside.

  All the while he was busy mentally reading himself a lecture on the senselessness of dwelling on Miss Kendall’s charms and where such stupidity might lead.

  “My lord,” Miss Shelby prattled, “I am so anxious to visit the museum. And to have you along to explain how you acquired the items will be so educational. I am not one of those females, you know, who believes all a lady should know is how to paint watercolors and sew a neat seam. Deplorable!”

  The picture sprang into Daphne’s mind of Lord Ravenswood dancing with Elfleta Blenkinsop. “Go carefully, dear Leonie, for I fear that is exactly the sort of female his lordship admires.”

  Miss Shelby started at this singularly tart remark from Daphne. She then looked to the earl, whose countenance reflected only composure. She stared hard at him for a moment and then shook her head, saying, “I do not see that about his lordship. When is your birthday, my lord?”

  “The tenth day of September.” Lord Ravenswood responded indulgently, deciding to be amused.

  “Just as I thought,” Miss Shelby declared, seemingly self-satisfied with his answer.

  Daphne felt baffled by the turn of the conversation. She glanced down at the cat beside her, and saw that the earl’s ministrations had relaxed Mihos into a sleep. Rising from the sofa, she let her eyes meet Lord Ravenswood’s. “There seems to be no impediment to our departure now. Shall we go?”

  Having already observed the feline in repose, Lord Ravenswood returned Daphne’s scrutiny. He knew full well she was thinking of his earlier remark and its implications. Some imp prompted him to reply, “Yes, while we can. For next time, who knows what fate may hold in store for us?”

  He disregarded the startled look on Miss Kendall’s face and allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation with Miss Shelby regarding the stars and how they revealed a person’s fate. As this was one of Miss Shelby’s favorite topics, it lasted quite the entire journey to the Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, enlivened by supporting remarks from Eugene.

  This left the earl free to stare out the window of his coach in bemused silence at his behavior, which he judged no better than that of the veriest moonling.

  * * * *

  Inside the Egyptian Hall, Mr. Bullock had strived to create a mysterious atmosphere he felt would add to the appeal of the ancient artifacts.

  The lighting was low, with a minimal use of candles. An aroma of foreign spices infused the museum. Tables where items were displayed were draped in heavy black velvet and roped off from inquisitive hands. Other pieces were enclosed in glass cases.

  Perhaps because of the Haute Ton’s recent affinity for decorating their rooms in the Egyptian mode, interest in the museum was high. It had become quite the fashion to visit the Egyptian Hall.

  Lord Ravenswood proved an excellent guide and teacher.
Both Daphne and Miss Shelby listened intently as he spoke of the rare objects he had acquired, as well as ones his friend, William Bullock, had collected. The earl’s knowledge was impressive, and Daphne could not help but admire it.

  Eugene followed the party with a distracted air. The museum brought about a longing for Egypt in him. While he did not find England in any way distasteful, it was not his home, and he wished to return to his distant land. After he had done what was necessary to gain his freedom, of course.

  To add to his discontent, Miss Shelby was not being as attentive to him as he suddenly realized he had come to expect. She and Miss Kendall were engrossed in the displays.

  Daphne was particularly entranced by the masks and was conversing with Lord Ravenswood regarding a ceremonial mask, when the Duchess of Welbourne and her nephew appeared.

  Miss Shelby uttered a soft cry when she saw the duchess.

  “Do not worry, Leonie,” Daphne whispered discreetly. She raised her chin, and faced Lord Guy and the duchess.

  Lord Guy bowed to Daphne and introductions were made all around.

  The Duchess of Welbourne eyed Lord Ravenswood. “Knew your father. Made a fool of himself over some frivolous young gel. Heard you went off to make a fortune to rebuild the estates.”

  Anthony bit back an angry retort at the insult, however well-deserved, to his father. Instead he said stiffly, “The repairs to Raven’s Hall are nearing completion.”

  “Hmpf,” the duchess sniffed. She turned and gave Daphne two fingers to shake.

  Daphne saw at once the lady was awful. She had a forbidding air about her massive person and peered out at the world with two of the smallest eyes Daphne had ever seen.

  Her Grace noticed Miss Shelby and directed a scowl at Daphne.

  “Miss Kendall, are you aware that Miss Shelby was formerly in my employ?” The duchess spoke as if Miss Shelby were not standing a mere few feet away.

  “Why, yes, your grace. Miss Shelby told me all about her circumstances before coming to me,” Daphne answered with a confident air. She looked at Lord Guy, who was nervously fingering his quizzing glass, and gave him a blinding smile.