Mihos lifted his head and raised a paw to Lord Ravenswood’s chin.
Daphne tried hard not to let a chuckle escape her lips. Here was the impeccably dressed, reserved earl with Mihos cradled in his arms only a minute after declaring that she was softhearted.
She watched his gloved hand stroke and caress the purring animal, who gazed at him with adoration. Every time she saw Lord Ravenswood treat the cat tenderly, it touched her heart.
All at once, Daphne’s skin seemed to ache for his lordship’s touch. She imagined what it would feel like if he were to run his fingers across her face, down her neck, along her shoulder.
As if sensing her thoughts, Lord Ravenswood transferred his gaze to her, and they stood, framed in the doorway, looking into one another’s eyes. He stood so close to her, Daphne could feel the heat from his body in the cool of the evening. The light from a full moon gleamed on his dark hair. She felt a sudden yearning to run her fingers through the shiny locks. To do to him what she had been envisioning him doing to her a few seconds before. Touch his face, his lips ...
“I say! Is that Ravenswood fawning over a damned cat?” The voice, barely discernable, came from a passing coach but was loud enough to reach Anthony’s ears. Loud enough to break the spell.
Daphne was glad of the darkness, which hid the flush she knew stained her cheeks.
“Oh, here you are, dears,” Miss Shelby called from his lordship’s coach, where she and Eugene had been deep in conversation.
Eugene had been telling Miss Shelby how he had convinced Lord Ravenswood to offer his escort to Miss Kendall this evening. He had simply contrived a rumor about a gang of footpads planning to prey on the Pelhams’ guests this evening.
Miss Shelby clapped her hands in delight at this imaginative ploy. Eugene thought her the sweetest woman he had ever known, and in the best of looks tonight in a pretty coral-colored dress.
At the top of the stone steps, Lord Ravenswood struggled to convince Mihos to remain at Daphne’s house. The cat obviously wished to come with his owner, prompting Daphne to say, “My lord, Mihos misses you. You must take him home soon.”
“I should not wish to do so before he is completely recovered, Miss Kendall, unless it is an inconvenience to you.”
“No, indeed. I am happy to have him with me. Here, let me unhook that claw from your coat.”
Lord Ravenswood watched her gloved fingers gently detach the cat from his coat. Together they managed to get Mihos inside and close the door, ignoring his outraged roar at such Turkish treatment.
As they walked down the steps to the coach, Anthony decided he would secure a waltz again tonight with Miss Kendall. How enchanting she looked in that gown.
He grimaced as he remembered that she had reduced him to spouting off that drivel about the peridot stone in his cravat. He had had no intention of telling her what prompted his choice in pins. But the words seemed to come out of his mouth of their own volition when he saw how beautiful she appeared coming down the stairs to the hall.
Thank God he had stopped short of telling her how the peridot had caught his attention in the window of Rundell and Bridge’s jewelry shop earlier in the day. Upon seeing the stone, he had impulsively decided to purchase it and wear it this evening. Mentally he shook his head at his foolishness.
Waving aside a footman, Anthony held out his hand to Miss Kendall and helped her into the coach. Her hand was so small and delicate in his, the mere touch of it caused an almost unbearable desire in him.
He could smell her light flower perfume and the effect on his senses, combined with his earlier reactions to the sight of her, was enough to make him wonder if he was mad as a March hare.
The ensuing drive to the Pelhams’ was short, but the press of carriages in the street necessitated almost three quarters of an hour’s wait outside the town house.
Daphne fought hard to push aside the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her regarding his lordship. She was successful enough in this endeavor that conversation inside the comfortable coach was lively. A wide range of topics was covered, including Mihos’s recovery and the exhibits at the Egyptian Hall.
While they were discussing a stuffed cobra they had seen on display at the museum, Eugene saw an opportunity to further his plans.
“With all due respect to Mr. Bullock,” Miss Shelby remarked, “I cannot see why anyone would admire a cobra, even stuffed as it was.”
Eugene addressed her smoothly. “Leonie, I understand your aversion to snakes. However, I am certain that you would perceive their value if you could but see them from a different perspective.”
Miss Shelby caught the conspiratorial look Eugene gave her, and she inserted a challenging note. “I do not see any way that would be possible.”
Daphne agreed with a shudder. “In my view, the creatures have no redeeming qualities.”
Lord Ravenswood’s mouth stretched in a half smile. “You surprise me, Miss Kendall. I would think someone with your loving nature toward animals would rind good in all.”
“I do not consider vipers to be animals. They are reptiles,” Daphne said, and squirmed in her seat. “Oh, by the way you are smiling, my lord, I see you must be funning.”
“Have you ever seen a live snake, Miss Kendall?” Eugene inquired.
“Well, no,” Daphne confessed. “Only that horrid stuffed cobra. I have read about them in books, though. Nasty creatures!”
“I know of a place where one might see serpents dancing on silk ropes to the sound of music,” Eugene entered casually.
Miss Shelby gasped. “How intriguing.”
All eyes were on Eugene.
“I saw an announcement of a fair to be held in a village called High Jones, just outside of Richmond. In addition to the dancing serpents, it said there will be men who can run knives through their hands without producing blood, tumbling performances, and many other diversions.”
Daphne smiled wistfully. “I have not been to a fair since, well, the last time Mama and Papa took me.”
“Gracious, I cannot remember when I have enjoyed the simple pleasures of a village fair,” Miss Shelby mourned.
“Is Richmond far from Town, master?” Eugene asked innocently.
“No. It is only about seven or eight miles from Mayfair,” his lordship estimated. “I have passed through High Jones many times on my way to Raven’s Hall. It is just beyond Richmond.”
Now all eyes were on Lord Ravenswood.
Even in the dim light of the carriage, Anthony could see the look of anticipation on Miss Kendall’s face. He knew at that moment he would not, nay, could not do anything to displease this auburn-haired beauty. He sighed. “When is the fair, Eugene?”
Eugene allowed himself a slight smile. “Monday, master.”
“Would you and Miss Shelby honor me by being my guests, Miss Kendall?” Lord Ravenswood asked, knowing the answer, yet wondering how on earth he would live through a tedious day at a country fair.
Daphne’s eyes shone. The look of excitement in her eyes made Anthony glad of his offer. “I should like it above all things, my lord.”
“Lord Ravenswood, you are the most amiable of gentlemen,” Miss Shelby said, and then beamed.
For a brief second Anthony thought he saw her wink at Eugene. But that could not be.
Amiable, Miss Shelby had said? No, his lordship reflected. He was mad. Quite mad.
Chapter Seven
Inside the Pelhams’ town house, there was indeed a crush of people. Lady Pelham had two marriageable daughters, Lady Rachel and Lady Stephanie. She was determined that the ball be a triumph to impress the eligible gentlemen in attendance and had, therefore, ordered the best of everything.
Lord and Lady Pelham had already joined their guests by the time Lord Ravenswood’s party arrived, so they made their way directly into the ballroom.
Daphne entered the massive room and blinked. In her two Seasons she had never seen quite the level of opulence created here.
Crystal chandeliers
filled with candles sparkled a rainbow of colors overhead. Hundreds of hothouse flowers perfumed the air from pots placed around the room. Liveried footmen carried gleaming silver trays containing glasses of champagne for the guests’ pleasure. In the musician’s gallery, an orchestra began the strains of a Scotch reel.
It seemed all of the beau monde was in attendance. They themselves heightened the lavishness of the spectacle with their flashing jewels and rich satins and silks. Feathered heads nodded, and painted mouths whispered the latest on dits behind opened fans.
Upon her arrival in the ballroom with the earl, several gentlemen approached Daphne and secured dances with her. One of these admirers, a young baron named Lord Clifton, wished her to join him in the Scotch reel just beginning.
Flushed from all the unexpected attention, Daphne placed her hand on his arm and turned to Miss Shelby. “Enjoy yourself, Leonie.”
“Heavens, Daphne, all the world and his wife is here. I shall sit with the chaperons,” Miss Shelby said, indicating the rows of gilt chairs set up on one side of the ballroom.
“I shall stand at your side,” Eugene said. They walked off together, leaving Daphne with an eager Lord Clifton and a glaring Lord Ravenswood.
Lord Ravenswood did not know why he thought Miss Kendall would remain at his side once they arrived. It was a crackbrained notion and would hardly be proper. Had he lost his common sense? “A moment, please, before you whisk the lady away, Clifton. Miss Kendall, may I have the honor of the first waltz?”
“I am sorry, my lord, but it has already been claimed,” Daphne said, trying to keep the tone of her voice from revealing the extent of the regret she was feeling.
“The second, then?”
Daphne smiled up at him. “I should be pleased.”
Lord Ravenswood bowed and went to greet his hostess.
For the next hour, Daphne danced and conversed with various partners, none of whom interested her more than casually.
Breathless after a vigorous country-dance, she left the floor and stood fanning herself. She could hardly credit her ears when a low voice said, “I see nothing has changed in my absence from London, Miss Kendall. You are still a Toast.”
Daphne whirled about to face Lord Quinton. This exquisite, languid sophisticate had been one of her most ardent suitors last year during the Season.
He had claimed her for two dances at every ball and party they attended. He had invariably followed this marked attention with a call the following day, always bringing her the loveliest of flowers or the most extravagant boxes of sweetmeats.
She had not been indifferent to him and had hoped their feelings for one another might deepen and result in a proposal of marriage. Alas his attentions had abruptly cooled. She had been overwrought with anxiety when he proved to be yet another gentleman put off by what she had by then, in her own mind, dubbed her Fatal Flaw.
Staring into his familiar blue eyes, Daphne felt a sting of the pain she had endured when his attentions had ceased and his engagement and subsequent marriage to Lady Cecily had been announced. “My lord,” she said, and dropped a brief curtsy. “I never had an opportunity to congratulate you on your marriage.”
Lord Quinton gave a slight nod of his golden head. “Thank you, Miss Kendall. Lady Cecily has proven to be a satisfactory wife. My heir should make his arrival into the world this autumn.”
A sense of inadequacy swept over Daphne. She could be awaiting the birth of her first child if not for ... if not for... If not for what? she wondered. She must know.
She raised her chin and looked directly at Lord Quinton. “My lord, I know it is not at all the thing, but I must beg a favor. Would you tell me if there was something I did during the time we, ah, knew each other that gave you an inalterable disgust of me?”
Lord Quinton appeared discomfited for a moment at this forthright request, but gazing into Daphne’s earnest countenance, he yielded to the plea in her eyes. His voice was tender. “You do yourself a disservice, Miss Kendall. It was, er, your companion that caused me to have second thoughts about a more permanent relationship with you.”
Daphne was all at sea. “Do you mean Miss Oakswine?” At his answering nod she asked, “What did she say about me?”
“Only that you were extremely fond of one another and could not be parted. Any man that offered for you would be getting the old horror in the bargain. The woman made sure this fact was quite clear and well-known among the gentlemen of the ton.”
Daphne could only gape at him, her eyes nearly starting from her head.
Lord Quinton reached out a gloved hand to chuck her under the chin. “Goose. What could you have done to put off any gentleman? The very idea is ludicrous.”
Shock was giving way to indignation. Daphne’s eyes flashed. “I never once discussed with Miss Oakswine her remaining with me should I marry. Indeed, I cannot think that under any circumstances I led her to believe such a farrago of nonsense.”
Lord Quinton looked grave. “Lud, you have been the victim of duplicity, my dear. Heard the old frump had been laid in the dust recently, but one cannot too much deplore such a loss. We all thought the Odious Oakswine—that is what fellows called her—probably had another ten years left on her plate to bedevil us all. More than any man could take, don’t you know? Gentlemen will be beating a path to your door now that Odious Oakswine is gone.”
It was true. Never had her popularity been greater. Daphne stiffened her spine. She felt some of her long-dead confidence in herself return. “Well, I did not know, but I am more grateful than I can say for this enlightening conversation, my lord.”
“Obliged enough to favor an old acquaintance with a dance?”
They smiled at each other, much in charity. Daphne nodded her agreement and placed her hand on his arm. Lord Quinton flirted outrageously while gracefully leading her through the steps of the dance.
Daphne felt lighthearted. The world seemed a friendlier place. Naturally any gentleman would have been daunted by the prospect of living with Miss Oakswine, she reflected, while holding up her end of the conversation and chuckling over Lord Quinton’s witty remarks about some of the assembled guests.
Although if a gentleman truly loved her, she mused, would he allow such an obstacle to come between them? Daphne eyed her fair-haired partner and deliberated whether Lord Quinton had loved her, or was, in fact, capable of strong emotions.
She recalled his comment about his wife. Lady Cecily has proven to be a satisfactory wife. No, this was not the sort of marriage her parents had enjoyed and not what she envisioned for herself. She found it in her heart to be a tiny bit sorry for Lord Quinton.
Perhaps it had worked out for the best that Miss Oakswine’s trumped-up story had driven him away along with the others.
Perhaps, as Leonie would say, fate had played a hand in the matter, and the stars had another plan for her.
Her gaze sought Lord Ravenswood. He was standing alone, watching the dancing. At precisely that moment, his lordship happened to glance her way, and their eyes met. Daphne felt heat flood her cheeks, and she quickly turned back to Lord Quinton. “Will you be in Town long?”
Lord Quinton observed the exchange between Miss Kendall and Lord Ravenswood with a knowing eye, but kept his comments to pleasantries.
At the other side of the room, Lord Ravenswood just managed to restrain the scowl that threatened to darken his face. Devil take it! The minx was flirting with Quinton. George always was a bit of a rattle. Their friendship went back to Eton days. He had heard marriage to Lady Cecily had settled him, but from the way George was ogling the bodice of Miss Kendall’s dress, Anthony could only surmise the leopard had not changed its spots.
The dance ended, and Anthony was toying with the idea of taking himself off to the card room until his promised dance with Miss Kendall, no other lady having caught his interest, when Mrs. Blenkinsop and Elfleta wormed their way into his path.
“My lord,” Mrs. Blenkinsopp cried with the air of one relieved to see a sa
vior. “This ball is a positive crush. My Elf is dying for some lemonade. Champagne is not for one of her delicate constitution.”
Eyes cast down, Elfleta dropped a curtsy and murmured a greeting. She wore a shiny satin gown that’s very brightness seemed to drain what little color Elfleta had.
Anthony bowed to the ladies. “I should consider it an honor to procure a glass of lemonade for Miss Blenkinsopp.”
Mrs. Blenkinsop’s lips spread in a wide grin. “I knew I could rely upon you, my lord,” she gushed, and instantly disappeared into the crowd.
Anthony held out his arm to Elfleta and led her away into the adjoining refreshment room. Here a long table had been set up with an assortment of fruits, cheeses, and nuts along with punches and lemonade. A full supper would be served around midnight, but many of the guests were partaking of a little food now to lessen the effects of all the champagne they consumed.
Anthony handed Elfleta a glass of lemonade. “Are you enjoying the ball, Miss Blenkinsop?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Do you prefer the gaiety of Town life with its parties and soirees to the country?”
Elfleta knew all about his lordship’s love for his country estate. Mrs. Blenkinsop had made it her business to find out everything she could about Lord Ravenswood and had then drilled the information into her daughter’s head. Even though Elfleta thought she would die of boredom inside of a week in the country, all her interests being confined to the fashions and the fashionable, she replied, “I adore the country.”
Anthony promptly began a long monologue—it turned out to be that way because Elfleta had not the knowledge nor the inclination to ask questions and partake of the conversation in depth—regarding Raven’s Hall.
Elfleta confined herself to a look of fascination, long practiced in her mirror, at Lord Ravenswood’s words. An expression of absorption when a gentleman spoke was guaranteed to impress him, her mama had often told her.
The ploy apparently succeeded as Lord Ravenswood eventually led her from the refreshment room and into the dance, feeling again the satisfaction of having singled out a very possible candidate for his countess.
Lord and Master Page 10
