Minutes later he bowed low over Elfleta’s hand. “Lovely lady, I came at once.”
The new Elfleta did not demur at the compliment. She knew it was only her due. Her charms would shortly be held incomparable by all once the announcement of her engagement reached the ears of the ton.
“Lord Guy, I knew I could count on your assistance.”
“Indeed, your trust was not misplaced, Miss Blenkinsop. Why, only last night I fought off a vicious housebreaker.”
At Elfleta’s gasp Lord Guy recounted the fictionalized tale. Some of his pride was restored by the girl’s fascination with the account and her murmured admiration for his bravery.
Lord Guy concluded by asking what service he might perform for her.
Elfleta pouted. “Oh, it is only that Lord Ravenswood has refused to escort me to the fair in High Jones this Monday. It is too bad of him as I hear a group of very fashionable people plan to attend.” She had heard no such thing, of course, but was determined to attend the fair and knew the inducement of other members of the ton might sway Lord Guy.
“I say,” he said with a frown. “Never heard of it myself. High Jones?”
“Yes,” Elfleta assured him. Her hazel eyes gazed at him hopefully.
Lord Guy took the bait. Why not? Here might be an opportunity to put the superior Earl of Ravenswood out of curl. “I shall consider it an honor to escort you. Miss Blenkinsop. Would noon suit you?”
Elfleta smiled. “Oh, yes. I never stray from my room before then.”
Sensible girl, Lord Guy thought, walking down the front step of the town house. A large dowry, he would wager, and what was equally important, she knew how to dress. Her pretty distress at his story of the housebreaker could only serve to further endear her to him. All in all, Miss Blenkinsop was unexceptionable.
What a shame Ravenswood had been before him. Still, nothing was official. Miss Blenkinsop said her papa was away from Town and not expected to return until Monday. The earl had not had an opportunity to speak with him.
Lord Guy remembered Ravenswood’s high-handed treatment of him at the Egyptian Hall and his subsequent coolness. It would afford Lord Guy a great deal of pleasure to come between the haughty Ravenswood and his intended. And how his friends would stare if he stole the prize out from under Ravenswood’s nose!
Lord Guy whistled a jaunty tune and mentally planned the ensemble he would wear to the fair Monday.
* * * *
In Clarges Street, meanwhile, Miss Shelby entered the drawing room and stopped short. Daphne sat on the dark green settee with an open book in her hand. Her attention was not on the pages, however. Instead her gaze focused somewhere beyond the tall window.
Air dreaming, Miss Shelby thought and sighed. Something of significance had occurred last night at the Pelhams’ ball, of that she was certain. Miss Shelby’s intuition told her it was more than just Isabella’s disturbing arrival. But it was clear her young friend was not yet ready to talk about whatever was troubling her.
“Daphne, my dear, how are you this morning?”
Daphne wrenched her thoughts back to the present. She had once again been in that deserted anteroom with the earl. Grateful to Miss Shelby for the interruption of these pointless contemplations, she smiled and patted the seat next to her. “Good morning, Leonie. Did you sleep well?”
“Oh, indeed, yes,” Miss Shelby dissembled.
She had, in fact, tossed and turned upon her bed for the majority of the night. Her thoughts had centered on Eugene and her deepening feelings for him. She believed he returned her sentiments, and this view caused her great joy. But the manservant was not free to declare himself. Miss Shelby was at a loss as to know how, or even if, this would happen.
But Daphne did not need to be burdened with anyone else’s problems. She sat on the settee next to her.
Daphne reached over and squeezed her hand affectionately. “I am glad you rested well, Leonie. Mihos kept me company last night. His leg has healed nicely.”
“Thanks to your tender nursing,” Miss Shelby reminded her.
Daphne smiled. “I am very fond of him, you know. Soon we must return him to Lord Ravenswood, and I shall be sad to do so.”
Miss Shelby’s sharp gaze recognized the wistful expression on Daphne’s face. While Mihos was an adorable feline, she would wager the young woman’s forlorn countenance was caused by the cat’s owner.
Miss Shelby lifted a hand and delicately smoothed Daphne’s hair. “Mihos is a love. One must get past his ferocious, growling meow to know the true gentleness of his character.”
“He does sometimes behave like a tiger, roaring and acting fierce.”
Miss Shelby nodded and gave a little laugh. “So like the gentlemen, would you not say? They often present one face, even say certain things, when what lies in their hearts is something altogether different.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Daphne replied absently. She swallowed hard, and her gaze strayed back to the window.
Miss Shelby dropped her hand, content that she had planted a seed. “Does it not appear to be a lovely day? I wonder, dear, if you might wish to do some shopping. I confess I have allowed Folly access to my bedchamber, and the lamentable result is I need a new bonnet for our trip to the fair.”
Daphne turned her head back to her companion, her eyes twinkling. “Never say that ramshackle fellow has chewed your bonnet. He has quite the penchant for headgear.”
Miss Shelby chuckled. “I am afraid so. I believe it might be beaver that attracts him. Recollect that Lord Ravenswood’s hat was made of beaver, and my bonnet was trimmed in beaver.”
“You may have the right of it,” Daphne replied. “I remember when Folly mangled his lordship’s hat.”
“Shall we spend the day shopping, then?”
“Yes. I am sure to find several things I will not know I need until I see them,” Daphne said.
If the cheerful note Daphne injected into her voice was a trifle forced. Miss Shelby was encouraged by it nonetheless. Besides, what lady’s spirits were not raised by shopping?
Later Miss Shelby’s prediction that the excursion would do her young friend good proved accurate. Daphne’s face glowed with pleasure as the ladies examined one fashionable trinket after another.
James limped along beside them until Daphne noticed the strain on the footman’s face. She promptly sent him to the carriage with their packages. The two ladies entered a millinery shop, prepared not to leave without the perfect new bonnet for Miss Shelby.
A few blocks away down an alley, Vincent Phillips stood outside in front of the pawnshop where Lord Guy had told him he had sold the cat statue. The thief huddled in his greatcoat, the English climate harsh to one used to the warmth of Egypt.
He waited until another customer left the shop, then entered. He nodded to the burly proprietor and quickly ran his gaze over the goods displayed. There was no sign of the Bastet statue.
“Lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?” the man behind the counter asked.
Vincent took the man’s measure. Despite his large size, his face was weak. In this part of Town he would be used to dealing with members of the Quality rather than rough commoners. “Yes. I hope you can help me. I am truly in the suds with my sister,” he said, lies tripping easily from his tongue.
“Heh. Females. You don’t needs to tell Joe Simmons they’re nothing but trouble.”
Vincent smiled cordially. “Well, Mr. Simmons, I have been playing rather deep and pledged a cat statue that is a favorite of my sister. Unfortunately I lost and have had the devil’s own time of it with Prunella ever since.”
His expression turned rueful. “Abominable of me, I daresay, gambling away my sister’s adored trinket, but there it is. All I can do now is try to get it back. Fellow that won the cursed cat from me said he sold it here.”
Mr. Simmons winked. “Don’t you worry, sir. I believe I haves it.”
Vincent’s eyes glittered. “Excellent. I did not see it on display and despai
red that you still possessed it.”
The shopkeeper moved away to a cabinet behind the counter. “The gent that brought it in had a nervous way about him. Put me in mind of thinkin’ it might be stolen. I’ve been keepin’ it aside for a whiles.”
“Was he a slim gentleman with blond hair worn high on his head?” Vincent asked. He paused and remembered the dandy’s colorful coats. “Probably dressed in a garish color.”
Mr. Simmons nodded. “That be him. And here is your Miss Prunella’s cat. Although I would call it more a figure than a statue.”
Vincent stared at the ivory cat figurine in the proprietor’s hand. His fists clenched at his sides. What kind of trick—but the instant the thought formed, he recalled the terror on the face of the fop at the Duchess of Welbourne’s house. The man would fear retribution too much to lie.
The tinkling of a bell heralded the arrival of another customer, a finely dressed gentleman.
Having no desire to call attention to himself, Vincent paid for the figurine with every evidence of relief when in fact he was seething. So close. He had thought himself so close to having the Bastet statue at last.
He thrust the ivory cat into his greatcoat pocket and went out into the street. Walking rapidly, he tried to think. Somehow he would have to find Eugene and beat the truth out of him.
Fury made him almost blind. He would have walked right past Miss Shelby and Daphne had the younger lady not hailed him. “Mr. Phillips? I thought it was you.”
Vincent froze in his tracks. His gaze rested on Miss Shelby, and he could have laughed out loud in glee. Here was Eugene’s ladylove dropped like a ripe plum into his hands!
He bowed over Daphne’s hand. “Miss Kendall. How delightful to see you again. And looking so fresh and lovely in that azure pelisse.”
“You are kind, sir. May I present my companion, Miss Shelby,” Daphne said.
Vincent nodded at the older woman. Miss Shelby gave a brief nod in return. Her brow furrowed as she listened to Daphne and Mr. Phillips exchange pleasantries.
“We were shopping for a new bonnet for Miss Shelby. She had to have one today, for Monday we are to enjoy a rare treat, a country fair.”
“I hope you may enjoy yourselves.”
“Thank you, sir. I thought we might see you last evening at the Pelhams’. But then I realized, had you received an invitation, you must have felt you could not attend out of respect for your grandfather,” Daphne said sympathetically.
Having completely forgotten about telling Miss Kendall that the baron was dead, Vincent stood silent for a moment. Then, recalling the lie, he said, “In truth, Miss Kendall, I do not feel it proper to attend spirited functions as yet.”
“I can understand, Mr. Phillips.”
“Perhaps you would allow me to call on you, Miss Kendall. I shall wait until Tuesday as you say you will, er, be away from home all Monday, is that correct?”
Daphne blushed a little but answered positively and gave her direction for lack of an excuse not to. She could not be interested in any gentleman other than Lord Ravenswood, but that did not make her unable to pass the time in a morning call with Mr. Phillips.
Her sunny demeanor must have had a beneficial effect on the Egyptian gentleman. Daphne thought, because he walked away with a wide smile on his face which had not been there at the beginning of their conversation.
“How do you know Mr. Phillips, Daphne?” Miss Shelby asked as they made their way to their coach.
“I met him at the Egyptian Hall, Leonie. He has come to England from Egypt. His grandfather, who was a baron in Suffolk, died recently.”
“I see,” Miss Shelby said slowly. “There is a sinister aura around him, dear. I cannot think well of him.”
“Really? I thought him quite companionable.”
“Appearances can be deceiving. Do be careful, Daphne.”
Daphne linked her arm with her companion’s. She could only love dear Leonie all the more for her sweet concern. “Come, let us go home and admire your new bonnet. Do not fret about Mr. Phillips. What harm could he possibly cause me?”
Chapter Ten
Not one to stay in her bed until noon, Daphne sat with Miss Shelby in the drawing room a few minutes before ten of the clock Monday morning.
She gazed at her companion, and her thoughts turned to her good fortune in meeting Miss Shelby the first time in Hyde Park. Since then, the older woman had won a permanent place in her heart.
She was not blind to her companion’s growing attachment to Eugene, either. The situation both gladdened and concerned her, as she would not have Miss Shelby hurt. Daphne sighed. If she was not careful, her views on men would soon become as dubious as Miss Oakswine’s had been. There was every indication Eugene returned Miss Shelby’s regard.
“Leonie, the blue ribbons on your new bonnet match your eyes. The effect with your blue gown is most becoming.”
“Thank you, dear,” Miss Shelby said. Her thoughts, too, were on Eugene, and she privately hoped he would be as impressed with her toilette.
A movement across the room caught her eye. “Daphne, would you look at Mihos? He is pacing in front of the window like a caged tiger.”
The cat with the apricot fur, striped with brown, walked back and forth, his tail swishing from side to side, his expression fierce.
Daphne chuckled. “I think he knows Lord Ravenswood will be here soon and wishes he would hurry.”
She glanced nervously at the clock on the mantel. She had half expected Lord Ravenswood to cancel the outing, but surely he would not do so at this late date.
How would she feel seeing him again after that kiss at the Pelhams’ ball? Hardly five minutes had passed since that momentous event without Daphne reliving every move the earl had made and every sensation he had called forth in her.
Her stomach clenched tight when the clock struck the hour. Cramble appeared in the doorway and addressed the fireplace. “The Earl of Ravenswood, miss.”
Daphne lifted her chin and focused her gaze on the doorway.
Lord Ravenswood strode into the room with Eugene behind him. Daphne’s heart jumped painfully in her chest. He looked even more handsome than she remembered in a fawn-colored coat and leather breeches. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and hold him until he retracted the hurtful words he had spoken about their kiss. It was a mistake.
She did no such thing, of course. Instead she rose and shook out the skirts of her muslin gown. The dress looked like springtime, being lilac muslin with a light green sprig.
Anthony nodded at Miss Shelby, then bowed before Daphne. “Miss Kendall, you continue to amaze me with your ability to be ready at the appointed hour.”
“’Tis nothing, my lord,” she replied, and curtsied. “Good morning, Eugene. How are you?”
The manservant, who had been smiling at Miss Shelby, bowed. “I am well today, thank you. Miss Kendall.” He shot his master an accusing glance.
On Saturday morning, upon finding his master was not in Hoby’s as he thought, Eugene had been frantic. He had relentlessly hunted the earl down and waited for him outside White’s, scowling and looking ready to go into strong convulsions.
When Anthony had finally emerged from the club very late in die evening, he had endured a jaw-me-dead from Eugene worthy of a strict Methodist parent. The earl had not been able to attend to the lecture properly, though, being drunk as a wheelbarrow.
Sunday morning, Eugene had satisfied himself by speaking only when spoken to by his master—a punishment not as great as the manservant would like to think—and making sure that in performing every one of his morning duties, he made enough noise to cause certain distress to his master’s aching head.
These actions had eventually resulted in Lord Ravenswood spending the day in bed, the door to his bedchamber bolted against his servant.
“Grraow,” Mihos said, appearing at his feet and demanding the earl’s attention. Anthony bent immediately and picked up the purring animal.
“Feeling
better, my friend?” he inquired. “No more pesky bandage?” His lips spread into a smile when the cat raised his paw to touch his chin. Anthony remembered when he used to fear the cat’s gesture would lead to his nose being ripped by a sharp claw. Only after several favorable occurrences had he realized the cat’s purpose was one of affection.
“Oh, my lord, Mihos is so beautiful. And he quite dotes on you,” Miss Shelby said fondly.
Eugene nodded his turbaned head in agreement. “Miss Shelby is right. He is beautiful, and beauty is more than fur deep. Mihos has a beautiful soul. And the little tiger knows his destiny is with Lord Ravenswood.”
The cat in question, never one to hide his light under a bushel, said, “Grraow,” and looked up at the earl as if for confirmation of Eugene’s theory.
“That reminds me, my lord,” Daphne said. “You must take Mihos home with you whenever you wish. H-his leg is healed, and he is himself again.”
Anthony noticed the tremble in Miss Kendall’s voice when she made his pronouncement. She was not eager to part with the striped cat. “Could we not share him, Miss Kendall? Surely he belongs to both of us.”
Daphne gave a little shake of her head. “I do not see how that would be practical.”
No, Anthony thought with gloomy regret. She was correct. After his betrothal was settled, he would be free to return to Raven’s Hall. At that time the cat would either have to come with him, or remain in London with Miss Kendall. Both choices seemed unacceptable.
A sudden feeling that Miss Blenkinsop might not appreciate Mihos the way Miss Kendall did added to his unease.
Anthony stroked the cat’s head. “We need not think of it now. ’Tis a beautiful spring day, and I have brought an open carriage.”
Miss Shelby let out an exclamation of delight. Daphne’s expression brightened. “How thoughtful of you, my lord.”
Anthony felt a surge of contentment at having pleased her. “The day is unusually warm. You need only bring a shawl, Miss Kendall. I promise to have you home before the sun sets.”
Lord and Master Page 14
