Then her jaw dropped.
Chapter Eleven
As he had done with Lord Guy’s room, Vincent Phillips had completely overturned Daphne’s bedchamber. Lacy shifts, silk stockings, and gloves lay strewn about the room. The doors to the wardrobe were open, and Daphne’s gowns had been cast into a heap beside it.
Worst of all, Biggs was gagged and tied to the bedpost, her eyes wide with fear. Daphne gasped in alarm. “Biggs! Oh, your poor hands—”
She got no further. Rough hands wrenched her arms painfully behind her back and held her. An arm grabbed her around her middle and pulled her backward up against a hard male chest. A harsh voice demanded close to her ear, “Where is the cat?”
Despite the tone, Daphne felt a flash of recognition at the sound of the voice. Too stunned at the rapidly unfolding events to immediately reply, she remained silent.
“Where is the cat, Miss Kendall?” the intruder demanded harshly at her ear.
Wildly Daphne looked about. Mihos crouched on top of the tall wardrobe, his tail switching angrily as he watched the scene. “There. On top of the wardrobe,” she indicated with a nod of her head.
The man looked up. As if in answer, Mihos hissed and bared his teeth at Mr. Phillips.
Daphne cried out in pain as the housebreaker twisted her arms.
Outside in the hall, her hand raised to knock. Miss Shelby heard her cry of distress. About to throw open the door to lend her aid, she froze when she heard a man’s voice.
“Do not play games with me, Miss Kendall!” He threw Daphne onto the bed and stood over her menacingly. Biggs moaned.
Daphne lay on the bed rubbing her arms. She stared up at the intruder, her mind a whirl.
Suddenly her mouth dropped open. Mr. Phillips! Although he was masked, Daphne recognized him. The combination of his startling blue eyes and his brown hair with its blond streaks identified him. That was why his voice had sounded familiar! But it would not do to let him know she had perceived his identity.
“I-I am not trying to deceive you. I do not know what cat you are talking about. Mihos is the only cat I have.”
Vincent Phillips leaned over her. Daphne shrank into the mattress. “The stolen cat statue,” he growled.
Listening outside the door, Miss Shelby clutched her throat, terrified.
Comprehension dawned on Daphne’s face. “The one Miss Shelby—”
“Ah, now we make progress on saving your life, Miss Kendall. Yes, the one Miss Shelby has.”
Daphne stared at him, confused. He must mean the cat Miss Shelby had been accused of stealing. But what could he want with the duchess’s ivory cat figurine?
In the next second a moan, followed by a thud, could be heard coming from the direction of the bedchamber door. Vincent Phillips swung his head around to find its source. Daphne seized the opportunity to scamper off the bed and run for the fireplace. Her hands were reaching for the poker when he caught up with her, grabbing her wrists.
“Let me go!” Daphne demanded. “Miss Shelby does not have the cat, and neither do I.”
“I have searched her room as well and know she does not have it. Where is it?”
“I do not know—stop!” Daphne shouted when Mr. Phillips pushed her up against the side of the fireplace and held her pinned.
At that moment, Mihos flew from the top of the wardrobe to the fireplace mantel next to Vincent Phillips’s head and let out a tremendous, menacing roar. “Grraow!”
Startled, Vincent jumped away from Daphne. She darted to the side and grabbed the poker. Raising it above her head, she meant to strike him on his head, but instead her blow fell heavily on his shoulder.
He clamped a hand over the wound in pain. “Jade!”
Daphne raised the poker again but felt sick. Violence of any sort was abhorrent to her. She was not sure she could strike him again. “I tell you I do not know what happened to the cat. We believed someone in the duchess’s house might have stolen it.” Even now, Daphne was loath to name Lord Guy.
Mihos roared again from his position on the mantel.
“What the devil is that animal?” Vincent asked, staggering a bit and darting a leery glance at Mihos.
“Never mind. Get out of my house, else I shall summon the watch.” She had every intention of doing just that regardless, but desperately wanted him to leave. She feared she would not be able to hold him off much longer.
Vincent, indeed, could have wrested the poker from Miss Kendall at any time he chose. Frustrated, though, and believing neither woman had the Bastet statue, he turned and hurried toward the window. Climbing down the outside wall, he was more determined than ever that he must find Eugene. He was certain only the manservant knew where the priceless statue was located.
Almost to the ground, Vincent jumped and landed awkwardly, twisting his foot. Cursing, he limped away.
Seeing him go, Daphne sagged against the wall in relief. All at once she began to shake. The poker slipped from her nerveless fingers, and she shut her eyes.
A muffled noise reminded her of her lady’s maid’s position. “Oh, Biggs! Here, let me untie you. Are you all right?”
She removed the gag from the woman’s mouth first. The maid took in great gulps of air. “Miss, I’ve never had anything so frightening happen to me in all my life.”
“Pray you will not again. Biggs,” Daphne said. She untied the woman’s hands and then sat back. “What happened?”
“He surprised me, miss. One minute I was arranging your blue gown in the wardrobe and the next he was tying me up. Imagine a housebreaker in broad daylight,” said the clearly scandalized abigail.
Daphne noticed Biggs was rubbing her hands and reckoned they ached abominably. “Do not concern yourself with setting the room to rights. Have one of the maids arrange things under your direction. I must find Miss Shelby and see to the servants.”
Rising, Daphne crossed the room and opened the door to find her companion slumped unconscious on the floor. “Leonie!”
Biggs hurried to her side bringing a vinaigrette. Daphne thanked her and waved the pungent scent under Miss Shelby’s nose. The older woman moaned and opened her eyes.
“Daphne, dear child. Oh! Oh! I heard a man’s angry voice ...” Miss Shelby struggled to sit up.
“Do not worry. I am fine. ’Twas a housebreaker, but Mihos and I triumphed,” Daphne assured her. “Come, let us get you to bed.” She assisted Miss Shelby to her feet with Biggs’s help.
“Daphne, I had just come from the kitchens and was going to ask if you wanted a tray sent up to your room. When I went to knock on the door, I heard a man’s voice—”
They reached Miss Shelby’s bedchamber, and at the sight of it, the older woman shrieked. Vincent had done his work even more savagely in this room.
Fearful Miss Shelby would faint again, Daphne hurried her to the bed and helped her lie down. “Leonie, I am sorry you must try to rest among this chaos, but I do not wish to waste time ordering another chamber made up.”
“No, you must not trouble the maids,” Miss Shelby said weakly. “I do not have many things. It will not take long to put them in order. If I could just lie here a moment.”
“That is exactly what you must do,” Daphne told her.
Turning to the waiting Biggs, she said, “Please go take care of yourself. I shall attend Miss Shelby.” The maid nodded and left the room.
Daphne righted an overturned chair. She did not know how much Miss Shelby had heard outside the bedchamber door before she fainted. Had she heard Mr. Phillips mention her name? Not for the world would she have dear Leonie believe herself to be at fault for this evil deed. Therefore she told her companion an altered version of the encounter with Vincent Phillips—not even mentioning she knew the identity of the villain—then said, “May I ring for some tea for you, Leonie?”
“That would be welcome, dear. And for you as well. You have sustained a terrible shock. How brave you are! I declare I cannot conceive of what the burglar thought he would gain from
my bedchamber. But, there, such persons cannot be relied upon to think sensibly.”
Daphne told the startled maid who answered her bell what had occurred, and ordered tea and sandwiches. Though she doubted she could get anything past the lump in her throat, she wanted Miss Shelby to have sustenance. The glad thought that her companion had evidently fainted before hearing Mr. Phillips speak of her was a source of great relief.
Over the next hour the two women drank tea and nibbled their food. Another maid came in and, above Miss Shelby’s protests, tidied the room.
By the end of this time, Daphne felt Miss Shelby considerably recovered. “Leonie, I am going to leave you now. I want to reassure the servants all is well.”
The older woman reached out and squeezed Daphne’s hand. “Thank you, dear. Thank you for everything. You are a good girl.” Tears formed in Miss Shelby’s eyes.
Daphne patted her hand. “Goose! What would I do without you? Shall I send Folly in to bear you company?”
Miss Shelby’s brows came together. “No, perhaps not tonight. He might startle me in my sleep.”
Daphne nodded. “Very well. I shall see you in the morning. I believe I shall make an early night of it. Rest well, Leonie.”
Miss Shelby managed a smile before Daphne left the room.
Alone, Miss Shelby lay quietly. It was obvious dear Daphne was not going to mention that it was she, Leonie Shelby, who was responsible for this brutal attack. The girl was so thoughtful, so very concerned with the comfort of others.
Tears rolled unchecked down Miss Shelby’s cheeks as she thought of the horror of the evening. This was the thanks Daphne was to receive for taking in a lonely old woman who had been accused of thievery. It was more than Miss Shelby could bear.
Why the thief wanted the ivory cat figurine, Miss Shelby could not conceive. It did not matter. What if the man returned? All that was important was keeping Daphne safe. And she was not protected as long as someone wanted that cat figurine badly enough to break into the house and threaten its mistress.
Miss Shelby dried her eyes. She waited until she felt the household was abed before rising and pulling her old portmanteau out of the armoire. While packing it with a few meager items, she thought of Eugene. Would he think ill of her for leaving like this?
Tears flowed down her cheeks anew. How silly of her to have fallen in love with him. Why, at her age, she should be thinking of nothing but retiring to some tiny cottage in the country, not still indulging in dreams of romance and travel.
Even so, she hoped Eugene would understand why she felt she must leave. For a moment she considered sending him a note, but not being able to determine a way to accomplish this tonight without arousing suspicion, she put the idea aside. She would leave a missive for Daphne. Surely the girl would relay the information to Lord Ravenswood and his servant.
Besides, she reasoned forlornly, Eugene had never spoken of love to her. Perhaps he would not be as distressed as she thought at losing her company.
Miserable, Miss Shelby closed the portmanteau and sat down at her small desk. She pulled out pen and paper and began to write. Minutes later she slipped out of the house undetected. She had not even dared to say good-bye to the dogs, who were no doubt snoring away in the library. Nor would she see Mihos again.
Swallowing the despair in her throat, Miss Shelby clutched her portmanteau and walked away into the darkened London streets to begin her journey.
* * * *
Daphne prepared herself for bed. Her chamber was once again in pristine order, thanks to the efficiency of the maids.
After double-checking the latch on the window, Daphne blew out her candle and climbed into the four-poster. Her long red hair spread out on her pillow, and she gazed up at the canopy.
Mihos hopped onto the coverlet and padded toward her, letting out a low “Grraow.” Daphne smiled at him and began stroking his head absently. The cat curled up at her side.
What a day it had been. There were so many unanswered questions. Why had Vincent Phillips desired the ivory cat figurine enough to break into her house? How on earth had he learned about Miss Shelby and the stolen figurine in the first place?
The blackguard. And to think she had been pleasant to him at the museum and on the street! She had even invited him to call upon her on the morrow. What should she do now? She had not been able to bring herself to report the incident to the authorities, fearing Miss Shelby would somehow be dragged into the bumblebroth.
Perhaps in the morning she would send word to Lord Ravenswood and ask him to call. Maybe he would know what to do.
Thoughts of the earl reminded her of the pleasure she had experienced with him at the fair. Images came into her mind of his brilliant smile and his dark eyes.
She bit her lip anxiously, though, when she remembered being alone with him in the gypsy’s tent. Her cheeks burned at the remembrance of how tears had formed in her eyes when she thought his lordship might kiss her, and then had not.
Uncomfortable, Daphne shifted positions. She must stop this nonsensical thinking about Lord Ravenswood. It was obvious Miss Blenkinsop’s company rated higher than hers in the earl’s opinion. The proprietary air with which Miss Blenkinsopp regarded him spoke volumes.
Fighting tears, Daphne addressed the cat. “Well, Mihos, you and I will be parting soon.”
The cat watched her closely, a grave expression in his amber eyes.
“Unless I am mistaken, the earl has found a countess for Raven’s Hall. He will declare himself to Miss Blenkinsop and then take you away to live with them. I-I shall miss you.”
At these words Mihos stretched out a paw to Daphne’s chin in the same affectionate way he often did with Lord Ravenswood.
The small gesture of love was too much for Daphne. Holding the cat close, she allowed her tears to flow.
* * * *
Unaware of the perils befalling Miss Kendall and her companion, Lord Ravenswood shut himself in his library upon his return from the fair.
He did not indulge himself in drink as he had on Saturday. Rather, he contented himself by drumming his fingers on his desk and staring morosely into the fire. He managed to pass a few hours this way with little variation.
A treacherous part of him wanted to go to Miss Kendall. He felt inexplicably drawn to her this evening.
But a mocking voice inside his head asked, what do you have to offer her? The decision had been made to ask for Miss Blenkinsop’s hand in marriage. Any further association with Miss Kendall would be pointless.
Hard on the heels of these depressing ruminations came the memory of Miss Kendall’s sweet face. Of her bewitching green eyes. Her pink lips. Then his mouth hungered for hers, and the desire to go to her became strong once again.
Round and round his thoughts went like children on a carousel.
At an advanced hour, the door to the library opened, and Eugene walked in to stand in front of the desk. “Master, you refused dinner. You have been sitting here alone for hours. How can I serve you?”
The earl looked up at the older man’s somber countenance. All at once Anthony realized that despite his meddling ways, the manservant genuinely cared for him.
“Thank you, Eugene, but there is nothing I require tonight. Tomorrow, though, you may wish me happy.”
Eugene’s eyebrows rose almost into his turban. Hope soared in his chest. “Wish you happy? Is that not the phrase used to congratulate someone on a betrothal?”
Anthony nodded.
Eugene clasped his hands. “I knew you would see the light, master. Miss Kendall is everything a woman should be. Intelligent, kind, generous, beautiful—
Lord Ravenswood scowled. “What nonsense are you talking, Eugene? It is Elfleta Blenkinsop whom I have chosen to be my bride. I shall call on Mr. Blenkinsop in the morning. I have already indicated to Miss Blenkinsop and her mother that I will do so.” He gave a short bark of a laugh. “No doubt, if I do not appear, Mrs. Blenkinsop will come looking for me.”
Eugene leane
d forward, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. “But, master, only think! Miss Blenkinsop is lifeless. A mere fashion dummy. She cannot converse, she has no sparkle, no mind. Not to mention a body like a pole. Do you really want to share a bed—”
“That is quite enough, Eugene!” Lord Ravenswood snapped, rising to his feet. “I am going to marry Elfleta Blenkinsop. Nothing can stop me, I tell you. I shall not require your assistance this evening. Good night.”
An openmouthed Eugene watched his lordship march from the room. The manservant’s shoulders slumped. It appeared defeat was at hand.
Then his eyes narrowed. Despite his master’s convincing words, Eugene detected a reluctance on the earl’s part. Was there still time to stop the betrothal?
It was too late tonight to confer with Leonie. But speak with her he must. He would go to Clarges Street first thing in the morning. Together they would come up with a plan.
Eugene’s lips curved in a small smile. He climbed the stairs to his room to begin his nightly prayers. Thank the gods he had Leonie. His wise lady. What would he do without her?
Daphne entered the breakfast room a few minutes past eight the next day. She wore a pretty morning gown of willow-green muslin. Biggs had woven the green ribbon with the flowers embroidered on it that Lord Ravenswood gave her through her dark red hair.
As soon as she seated herself, Holly, Folly, and Jolly presented themselves at her feet, acting the part of her adoring slaves. Of course, one had to feed slaves, as the scamps well knew.
Slipping them scraps under the table, Daphne drank chocolate and managed to eat a muffin before retiring to the drawing room.
Mihos had been pacing, as was his custom when agitated, but when Daphne entered, he stopped and swaggered over to her eagerly. “Grraow!”
Daphne chuckled. “Yes, I have brought your plate of kippers. Terrible for you to have to wait, but I know you cannot like dining with the dogs.”
She placed the plate on the floor by the sofa, sat down, and watched Mihos attack the food.
James limped into the room to tend the fire. “Mornin’, miss. I see you’re spoilin’ that striped devil again.”
Lord and Master Page 16
