Never Entice an Earl

by Lily Dalton

  “And husband’s orders,” said a male voice behind her.

  Claxton appeared, dwarfing their delicate mother. He had spent the morning with their grandfather, escorting Wolverton to breakfast with Lord Liverpool and elsewhere about town. Dark-haired and tall, his cool blue gaze found his wife and, in an instant, warmed with adoration. Just like that, a snap of electricity came into the air. The heat of their attraction took Daphne’s breath away.

  “As if you give me orders,” Sophia retorted softly, yet she reached for him.

  The duke strode past them to take her hand. Bending low, he pressed a kiss to her lips.

  “I shall delight in continuing to try,” he murmured in an intimate tone.

  Clarissa sighed audibly, her attention fixed on the couple. Only then did Daphne realize she, too, stared, enraptured.

  Biting her lower lip, she glanced downward to the invitation list, a blur of paper and ink. It wouldn’t do to pine for a similar passion when she’d already resolved not to have it.

  “Out now, the both of you,” the viscountess ordered suddenly, a telling blush on her cheeks. “There is no time for delay. I will see you in the foyer in one hour. Don’t forget your parasols.”

  Daphne accompanied Clarissa up the marble staircase, where they separated to go to their own rooms. She couldn’t wait to share all the turgid details with Kate—

  Oh, fig! Kate wasn’t in residence today!

  Kate Fickett, her lady’s maid, and truly, her dearest friend in the world who wasn’t a sister and obligated to love her. For the last three years, Kate had awakened her with breakfast every morning, except for her day off, which was Monday. Only this morning, Hannah the upstairs maid had awakened Daphne, saying Kate hadn’t slept in her bed the night before.

  She’d told herself not to worry, that Kate had likely stayed another night to assist with all the work at the Fickett family’s new haberdashery shop. After all, with the season in full swing, the store would be teeming with customers and orders and bespoke work to be done.

  Still, Daphne did worry and would continue to do so until she knew all was well.

  She found her door ajar and stepped inside to hear the rustle of brocade as the draperies were drawn back from her window.

  “There you are, Miss Bevington. I was about to come for you.” A pretty oval face, made even prettier by a sprinkle of freckles across the nose, peered back at her.

  Kate, her auburn-haired lady’s maid, pulled back the remainder of the curtain.

  “Kate.” Relief bubbled up inside Daphne. “You’re here. I was worried about you.”

  “Just a bit of trouble at the shop, but it’s all resolved now.” She set off to bustle about Daphne’s gold-and-cream-papered room, which her grandfather had commissioned to be redecorated in honor of her debut season. He’d done the same for Clarissa, who of course had chosen her favorite color, pink.

  Oddly, Kate didn’t look her in the eye, and her voice seemed artificially light in tone. Daphne knew Kate. Something wasn’t right. Intuition told Daphne that whatever sort of trouble there had been at the shop, everything wasn’t completely resolved.

  Daphne said, “You needn’t have rushed back, if there were matters requiring attention. You should have just sent word, and taken the entire day—”

  “The day?” repeated Kate incredulously. “All day?”

  Daphne’s heart twisted at that. She felt such an enormous affection for Kate. Every morning Kate—like all of Wolverton’s servants—woke up and devoted herself to the service of the family, not necessarily by choice, but because of the circumstances of birth and their absolute need to earn a living, not only for themselves but their families. They all took such pride in their employment, and made everything look so effortless, but Daphne understood the hardships that went with the work. The long hours and the time spent away from family. She admired them all so much.

  “Fickett, you have never, ever asked for so much as an extra day off, or three, or ten, and you know very well, if you should ever need to, the request would be granted. Hannah can always step in. I’m certain your mother and father would appreciate the help, being that this is the busiest time of the year at their shop.”

  “What, and miss out on all of this?” Kate laughed, her expression vivid, but her eyes…suspiciously damp. With a flutter of her lashes, she quickly turned away, her voice hushed and thick as if she were trying to keep her emotions in check. “Even if it’s not my season, it’s all very exciting and I don’t want to miss out on a single moment. And besides, someone has to dress you properly for Lady Buckinghamshire’s Venetian breakfast, and it won’t be Hannah, not again.”

  Daphne watched in silence, even more certain something wasn’t right. Her friend was upset about something.

  After a brief pause, in which Kate straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat, she briskly took up Daphne’s petticoat and dress from the chair, where Hannah had neatly abandoned them the night before. “Dear girl, she does her best, but she ought not to have allowed you to wear the blue silk last night. Now your entire wardrobe is thrown out of sequence. The blue had been set aside specifically for the Vauxhall Gala next week. Each dress is clearly labeled, so I don’t understand how this happened—”

  “It isn’t Hannah’s fault,” Daphne asserted quietly, twining an arm around the bedpost, and leaning against it. “The lace on that atrocious green dress itched under my arms, and I rather insisted on the change.”

  Kate disappeared into the dressing room, only to emerge again moments later with a different dress, this one delicate yellow with puffed sleeves and four inches of pleated ivory lace at the hem.

  “I did not doubt that for one moment,” Kate responded with her customary pluck. “Which is why it’s best I’ve returned to attend to you. Your insistence means absolutely nothing to me.” Her gaze then settled on Daphne’s head and her lips thinned with disapproval. “I see Hannah used the frizzler on your hair. I suppose you talked her into that as well?”

  Daphne raised a hand to touch her hair.

  “I wanted something different,” she answered, only mildly exasperated. “Everyone else frizzles.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Kate continued past the bed. “All those tiny curls, so inelegant and impossible to smooth out the next day. Your hair is far too delicate for such torment.”

  Kate was jabbering, and still avoiding eye contact.

  She crossed the carpet to stand behind Kate, who stood at the window. Kate held the dress to the light, allowing the sunshine to filter through the muslin.

  Kate grumbled, “I’m of a mind to make you wear the blue again to the gala, even with the lemonade stain on the sleeve. Hannah ought to have treated the spot last night, immediately upon your return. Now I fear I’ll never get it out—”

  “Fuss, fuss, fuss,” Daphne chided softly.

  “Things ought to be done right, or not at all,” Kate retorted.

  “I don’t know why I suffer your continual impertinence,” she teased. It was a continuing jest between them, because they both delighted in impertinence.

  Kate laughed. “After three years, I’m afraid you’ve no other choice.”

  Yet on the last word, her voice faltered again. Her head dipped and she dashed her fingertips against her eyes.

  Daphne touched a hand to her back. “Kate?”

  Kate turned, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Oh, Daphne.”

  She fell into Daphne’s open arms and sobbed into her shoulder.

  “Kate, what is it? What is wrong?”

  The girl’s shoulders heaved between sobs and gasps. Daphne squeezed her tight. Kate never cried. She never lost her composure.

  “Everything, Daphne. Everything is terribly wrong.”

  Chapter Two

  Daphne pulled away, just enough to look Kate in the eyes and see tears streaming down her cheeks. “Tell me.”

  “My father, he…he…he borrowed a lot of money to invest in the new shop, hoping to attract more
customers of a wealthier class. Fine carpets, rich draperies and furnishings, and also a large and expensive inventory.”

  “A smart investment,” Daphne declared softly. “He is a good businessman.”

  “Always before, yes, but unbeknownst to me or my mother, he borrowed the money from the most unsavory man—” She flinched, her face paling a shade more.

  “And now what has happened?” Daphne pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbed at her friend’s eyes.

  “The term of the loan was to be two years, but of course, there was a tiny notation in the contract that it might change at any time at the lender’s discretion, and suddenly he has demanded that my father repay the entirety of the loan with all its interest. Immediately.” Kate’s bottom lip trembled, and tears spilled over her cheeks. “It’s just all very upsetting. Mother has sold her heirloom silver, and Grandmother offered up her pension monies from when she served at the palace. But worst of all, Robert may have to come home from school.”

  Daphne’s heart broke at hearing that. Kate referred of course to Robert, her younger brother, who at just nine years old already boasted advanced scientific and mathematical honors at the exclusive Mr. Gibbs Academy. They were all so very proud of him, and they’d had such high hopes for his future.

  Daphne recalled all too vividly the dark days when grief had devastated the Wolverton household. Daphne’d had her grandfather, mother, and two sisters for comfort, but understandably they’d all been consumed by their own private grief. And she in particular, who after the death of her father had suffered the most terrible guilt. It had been Kate, then newly hired, who had been her rock.

  Now Kate found herself faced by a terrible difficulty. Shouldn’t she be there for Kate just as unwaveringly as Kate had been there for her?

  Daphne reached for Kate’s hand. “Let me help in some way. You know I love everything in the shop, as do my mother and sisters. If we all went shopping there this afternoon—”

  “No, no, Daphne.” Her face pallid and drawn, Kate shook her head. “Thank you, but…I’m afraid the amount of the debt quite exceeds that sort of simple solution.”

  Daphne nodded, feeling spoiled and sheltered from the dreadful financial realities of life that so many suffered. Most of all, she felt helpless. She lived such a life of privilege, but had no money of her own. Just pin money, and accounts at several shops that her grandfather’s accountants paid, as long as the expenditures remained within reason.

  “Kate, how much?”

  “I can’t even say it.” Her hand curled on Daphne’s sleeve. “I’ll become ill, right here on the carpet.”

  “Go right ahead,” Daphne urged. “I don’t give a fig about the carpet. I want to know.”

  “I’m not going to tell you,” Kate replied, her eyes tightly closed. “So don’t press me.”

  Daphne’s frustration only grew.

  “There has to be something I can do.” She worked her bottom lip, trying to conjure a solution, but already Kate was shaking her head and scowling at her.

  “Don’t say that.” Kate took the handkerchief from her hand and dabbed her own eyes. “It only makes me feel worse that you’d feel the need to intervene, and besides, that’s not why I told you. You’ve helped me just by listening. Everything will be fine, and we’ll get through it.” She nodded and smiled bravely, and nodded again. “We will. This hardship will only make the family stronger, and bring us closer together.”

  That much Daphne knew to be true. Her own family had become immeasurably closer in the dark days after her brother’s and father’s deaths. But now she needed to concentrate on Kate’s well-being, not on her own tragic memories. Kate stared over her shoulder at nothing, seemingly a thousand miles away.

  Daphne inquired softly, “You are certain everything will be all right?”

  Kate blinked, appearing to break free from whatever spell that held her. “Yes, Daphne. Of course it will, without a doubt. Thank you for being such a friend.”

  With a glance to the clock, her tearstained eyes widened.

  “Look at the time. Come along now,” she said. “To the dressing room with you. I have less than an hour in which to transform you into the ne plus ultra everyone expects you to be. When you return I want to hear so many compliments about your appearance today that even I become morbidly conceited!”

  Kate’s enthusiasm eased her concerns just a little, but Daphne wouldn’t forget. They would revisit the matter soon, and she would press for more details, just to be certain the Ficketts’ difficulties resolved completely. Still, what a relief to return to the easy banter that usually transpired between them. They always had such fun together.

  “Kate, just wait until I tell you what Sophia just told Clarissa and me, downstairs, when we were in the conservatory.” Daphne sat on the tufted stool at her dressing table.

  Kate peered over her shoulder, and their gazes met in the mirror. “I can’t wait to hear.”

  “It’s very wicked,” she warned.

  “All the better!”

  *

  Only three hours later, Daphne and Clarissa stood at the entrance to the female servants’ quarters, having just returned with Lady Margaretta from Lady Buckinghamshire’s Venetian breakfast. Though the afternoon was young and there was the Heseldon ball to attend, a note from Daphne’s grandfather, Lord Wolverton, had summoned them home with word that a number of the staff had been stricken by an undetermined malady. From the distant end of the corridor came the sounds of someone suffering from the most wretched effects of illness.

  “Oh, my, I do believe that was a lung,” Daphne fretted, curling her fingers into the straw summer bonnet she held at the front of her skirt.

  A door opened and Lady Margaretta emerged, accompanied by the housekeeper, Mrs. Brightmore. They both wore frowns of concern.

  “They are very ill, then?” inquired Clarissa.

  That was rather obvious, Daphne thought, given the sounds of misery still emanating from behind the row of doors.

  A housemaid moved briskly past, carrying a stack of fresh linens and several tin buckets on her arm. With a knock, she disappeared into the first of the rooms.

  “I’m afraid so,” answered Lady Harwick.

  “What of Miss Fickett?” Daphne asked, having been told Kate was one of those who had fallen ill.

  It had taken every bit of Daphne’s will to remain in the corridor as her mother had insisted, rather than barging inside to assess her condition herself. Hadn’t Kate suffered enough from the shocking news of her family’s financial predicament?

  “Unfortunately the dear girl is in no condition to assist you for the Heseldons’, and Hannah has been stricken as well, but there is sufficient time for Clarissa’s maid to dress your hair.”

  “Oh, indeed, Miss Randolph is exceedingly efficient,” agreed Mrs. Brightmore. “I will speak to her and make her aware of this temporary arrangement.”

  “I don’t care a fig about the ball or my hair,” Daphne retorted, stung by the superficial bent of the conversation. “I care about Miss Fickett!”

  How was it that those closest to her sometimes seemed to understand her the least? She couldn’t go to a ball and smile and dance and charm while her dearest friend lay confined to her bed. For a moment, her fears got the better of her. What if the illness was of a serious nature? She’d already lost too many loved ones. She couldn’t lose Kate, too.

  Clarissa put an arm around her shoulder. “I care about Miss Fickett, too, and I hope she and the others feel much better soon.”

  “We all do,” added the viscountess. “But there is nothing to do now but await the arrival of the physician. Depending on what he tells us, we may need to make changes in the household to protect His Lordship from exposure.”

  The aging Lord Wolverton had largely recovered from the infirmity that had left him an invalid throughout the winter, though his aged muscles and weakened limbs still necessitated the use of a bath chair. Lady Margaretta and his granddaugh
ters, not to mention his valet and other devoted staff, remained in constant vigilance with regard to his health, which at times led to his complaints of being treated like a child.

  “By Heaven, I pray it’s not the influenza,” murmured Mrs. Brightmore, a hand pressed over her heart.

  As if Mrs. Brightmore had voiced Lady Margaretta’s exact fears aloud, Daphne’s mother extended a hand in the opposite direction. “Come now, let us all return upstairs. There is nothing more we can do here at present.”

  Her voice bordered along urgency, as if removing her daughters from the corridor would protect them from all threat of illness and danger, though they all knew Providence would selfishly do as it wished, as it had done with her eldest son and her husband. Out of consideration for her mother, Daphne accompanied Lady Margaretta and spent the next two hours writing out the remainder of the invitations with Clarissa’s help. Lord Wolverton sat nearby, reading aloud any details of note or amusement from the morning newspapers.

  Eventually it was time to prepare for the Heseldon ball, and Daphne abandoned her inkwell and pen. Yet while Clarissa ascended the staircase, Daphne quietly slipped away and returned to the servants’ hall. Peering down the corridor to be certain she would remain unobserved, she knocked on Kate’s door.

  “Come in,” came a feeble reply.

  As a lady’s maid, just a notch in the household hierarchy below the housekeeper, Kate enjoyed the privacy of her own room. To Daphne’s surprise, however, Kate wasn’t in bed. She stood, pallid and gaunt, struggling to don her cloak. “Kate Fickett, where do you think you are going?” Daphne rushed inside, reaching a hand to steady her.

  “Daphne, please leave,” Kate answered, her voice weak. She wobbled, unsteady on her feet, as if she might topple over at the slightest draft. “Her Ladyship would not approve of your being here, not with everyone else being so ill.”

  “Everyone else being so ill? Including you, do you mean? Kate, you look dreadful.”