Testing Miss Toogood

by Stella Cameron

  “He will surface again. And when he does he will be more dangerous. You told me you think so, too. I will know he has stopped when we capture him.”

  “It’s too dangerous and I want you to stay away from anything to do with him.” She knew her mistake at once.

  Dominic raised one brow. He slowed and walked his horse to the side of the road. “Listen to me and listen well. My private affairs are none of your business. Don’t interfere. And I think I should correct a comment you just made. Society has tied our names together. I don’t know why or how.”

  And she would not tell him that cutting in on other men at dances and hovering over her as he did was bound to make people wonder at their relationship.

  “I see you think a great deal more than you say but that’s your decision.”

  “It is my decision,” Fleur told him. “You make me angry. Such arrogance. Such sauce.”

  “Sauce?” His sarcastic little grin incensed Fleur. “I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before, miss. You’d best be quiet and remember your place.”

  “Behind you? Of course, and preferably telling you how important you are, how wonderful you are, how fortunate I am that you allow me to grovel in the shadow you throw. Ooh!”

  “You,” Dominic said, “have no sense of danger. Any other woman would fear my response now.”

  “I’m not afraid of you or anyone else.” There, now he knew. Well, perhaps she was a teeny bit afraid of him—but not very much at all. Pompous, that’s what he was.

  He smiled and narrowed his eyes to glittering blue slits. “Is that so? We-ell I shall have to decide how to change your mind about that.” His knuckle beneath her chin, forcing her to look straight back at him, didn’t cool her down at all. He sighed. “However, we both know that there is definitely something to gossip about—about us.”

  She swallowed and held her head high.

  “Your hair is the color of fire,” he said and looked pleased with himself for it.

  “Thank you. Unless you have blabbed about us we are the only ones who know…We’re the only ones who know we have been more familiar than we should have been.”

  “Is that true?” He inclined his head. “Yes, I suppose it is. But I must say you are fearless in your attack on me.”

  “Please take me back to Heatherly.” To Heatherly where she could shut herself away with her desperation. “I lied. I am not fearless. I am overwhelmed and more than a little sore. It’s time for me to assess my position and decide what to do next.”

  “Yes, of course.” He returned the horse to the road and they traveled in silence.

  Once Dominic asked if she was asleep and she glanced at him before staring ahead at something only she could see: her return home to the dashed hopes of her family.

  “My mother and Hattie should have known better than to allow that man to take you anywhere. He could not possibly be the man for you.”

  They reached the estate and started up the long driveway in the shadow of oak trees. “And who,” Fleur said, “do you think might be the man for me?”

  “You should not have picked up my glove as you did.”

  “Who do you think is the man for me?”

  “I don’t know, dammit!”

  “No, I suppose not.” No matter how much he wounded her, she wouldn’t turn back from her determination to try to save him from his own bravado. Snowdrop would be waiting in her room by now and she should have brought everything Fleur might need when she followed Dominic on Saturday.

  “I returned to the top of the hill, Fleur,” he said. “Just to stand where we stood.”

  She couldn’t breathe. A pulse at her temple hurt.

  “I needed to think. What happened…it was wonderful, but it wasn’t enough and it wasn’t right. I took advantage of your innocence. I’m the man who is supposed to be safeguarding that innocence.”

  “I must safeguard myself,” she said, feeling broken. “And I regret nothing of what passed between us.”

  “You are a passionate creature and I excited you in the ways I know so well to excite a woman.”

  When they drew closer to the house, a groom ran from the direction of the stables and waited for them to arrive.

  “Fleur,” Dominic said. “I didn’t expect your fitting to be over so I came to see you. My mother and Hattie were there.”

  “They are so kind to me.”

  “Who wouldn’t want to be kind to you?” He smiled at her and her own lips parted with the sensation that his mouth had touched hers. “Your ball is less than two days away. It will be our opportunity to show you off as you should be shown. And I shall be on my best behavior. Fleur, how much do you like Nathan?”

  There was that question again. “Very well indeed. Your mother and father produced unforgettable sons.” She blushed. “Nathan is admirable yet he doesn’t take himself too seriously. And I’m sure the Marquis is also a man to be reckoned with.”

  The groom met them in front of the steps.

  “Yes,” Dominic said, lifting her down. “I am sorry to have made your time here harder. Please forgive me.”

  Was that the way of all men, to dally, even if only a little, with a woman and then apologize with the expectation that she would accept that apology and feel nothing for what he had aroused in her?

  “I forgive you,” she said.

  “Fleur.” His tone became urgent. “Don’t do that. Don’t tell me something so important in a way that suggests you will never forgive me. I am truly sorry.”

  “Perhaps if you weren’t quite so sorry, I should not feel empty and bereft.”

  She left him and ran up the front steps. Inside the house, she didn’t stop until she reached her room and all but threw herself inside.

  Snowdrop, her eyes wide, rushed to her and held her hands. “What has happened to you? There’s tears on that lovely habit. And dirt! Oh, Fleur, did you take a terrible tumble?”

  “Oh, yes,” Fleur told her calmly. “A terrible tumble, but I shall recover quite quickly. Where did this come from?” She picked up a daisy chain from the foot of her bed.

  “I thought you must have made it.”

  “There wasn’t time,” she said and turned away to hide her blush. Dominic said he’d returned to the top of the hill, then come here looking for her.

  He had made the chain and brought it to her. She held the fragile thing in her hands, closed her eyes to experience its soft weightlessness.

  Snowdrop held up a rough cream dress with garish red and yellow ribbons threaded at the neckline and at the base of the laced bodice. A heap of frightful clothing rested on one of the chairs. “I added all the ribbons and lace,” Snowdrop said, although the worry didn’t leave her eyes. “We have everything we’ll need. If you still intend to go.”

  “I shall go,” Fleur told her. “He doesn’t want me, but I am a strong-willed woman and I have appointed myself his guardian angel. I’ll try some of these things on and be ready for a quick change on Saturday.”

  Snowdrop, her hair hanging loose almost to the backs of her knees, shook her head. “Oh, Miss Fleur,” she said. “You ’ave fallen in love with him. Hattie and me were afraid you ’ad.”

  Fleur walked to the top of the bed and pulled back the coverlet. She kissed the daisy chain and arranged it on her pillow.

  21

  The newspapers arrived early. Fleur had discovered that McGee would not allow any servant but himself to bear them to the breakfast room table. That, she had been told, happened around dawn.

  Wearing one of the wretched, beribboned nightcaps she hated—with most of her disheveled hair stuffed inside—and a chintz morning dress from home, Fleur had left her room in the near darkness. The object was to gain possession of the London Ladies’ Voice before it could fall into other hands.

  “Mornin’, miss,” a sleepy-eyed tweeny said when Fleur reached the hall.

  “Good morning,” Fleur said as the girl scurried by with a broom in one hand. Two more maids headed in the oppo
site direction. Of course the house was alive with servants. How else would they get their cleaning done but before the family got up?

  Fleur passed the salon and walked hurriedly toward the breakfast room. She had never eaten there because Snowdrop always brought her a tray.

  “Miss Toogood.” McGee caught up with her. “Er, may I help you?” His expression didn’t change but she had no doubt the entire below stairs would know she had been seen about in a nightcap. Was it her fault if she’d been unable to find a morning cap when she had no idea if she even had any?

  She smiled and bore her head high. “I’m on my way to the breakfast room, McGee.” After all, they had one servant at the rectory in Sodbury Martyr and she certainly did not bring breakfast to anyone’s room. They all ate together downstairs.

  “Yes,” McGee said. “I see. I expect we couldn’t sleep. But you’ll remember that Lord Dominic doesn’t want you abroad at such hours, and on your own.”

  “Well—”

  “Allow me to send you some warm milk with honey. I’ll have someone go with you and make sure you’re comfortable.”

  “Well—”

  “Whiskey. If I might make so bold, a little whiskey in hot milk is famous for its sleep-inducing qualities.”

  “Thank you, McGee.” He didn’t want her downstairs, that much was obvious. “But I’ll carry on to the breakfast room.”

  “That’s not…I mean, of course that’s a perfectly splendid idea, miss. Was there something special you’d care for?”

  Just the London Ladies’ Voice and a speedy retreat before someone really does arrive for breakfast. “I’ll have some coffee, please,” she said. “But there’s no hurry. I’ll read the paper.” Brilliant, now he’d know who took the thing before it could be picked up by Hattie’s maid.

  So be it. Borrowing a paper was hardly a sin. And it had been Hattie herself who mentioned that the episode on Rotten Row might be reported. Fleur sped the last few steps and rushed into the ebony-paneled room with its massive Jacobean sideboard, heavy table and chairs and windows where the green tapestry draperies were still closed.

  The heavy fragrance of fresh coffee filled the room, and Dominic sat at the table behind a copy of the Times.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice came out as a squeak.

  Dominic looked at her over the top of his paper. For the first time she saw him without a black ribbon tying his hair at the nape. He wore shirtsleeves, a buff-colored waistcoat—and no neckcloth. Fleur tried not to stare but he took her breath away.

  “What are you doing here, Fleur? You breakfast in your room like all the ladies.” Her appearance got amazed scrutiny. “It is barely after five in the morning. Why are you up at all and wandering around in the corridors on your own?”

  Fleur looked about, searching for the Voice. Silver coffee service stood on the sideboard, together with several covered chafing dishes. Yes, she also smelled food and hunger gnawed at her.

  “Fleur! You aren’t yourself. Must have been all the excitement yesterday. Come, I’ll take you back to your room. Go back to bed and I’ll have something sent up to you—some chocolate and perhaps toast? Chocolate has great restorative properties.”

  “So you’ve told me before. I feel perfectly well enough to be up, thank you.” Not true because she had a few nasty bruises and a sore behind her knee where the pommel on Lolly’s saddle had dug into the flesh. “I often get up this early at home.” Now that was a whopper!

  Dominic shook his paper, fiercely, Fleur thought, and returned to reading.

  Well, now this was a pickle.

  “You’d be better without the cap,” Dominic said from behind his paper screen. “Take it off and let your hair do whatever it does at times like this.”

  She stood as tall as possible, poked more locks of hair beneath the cap, and went to the sideboard. “I like the way you look this morning, Dominic. Quite—swashbuckling. Yes, I shall think of it as your pirate look.”

  “You, Fleur Toogood,” he said, “say the first thing that comes into your head. Pirate, hmm?”

  “I’m impetuous, that’s what you mean. My father always says so.” With two hands she lifted the heavy coffeepot and carried it carefully to the table.

  A hand shot out, Dominic’s, to take the pot from her and pour from it. “Why not ask rather than struggle with something you can’t manage?”

  “I was managing it,” she protested. “I’m no weakling.”

  “Hmm.”

  An awful, terrible thought struck her. “You aren’t going out to duel with Mr. Mergatroyd, are you? Please say you aren’t.” If he were, it would explain his early arrival for breakfast. “Seriously, Dominic. Duels and all that old-fashioned nonsense make men look foolish. All posturing and puffed—a bit like male pigeons mating. And duels are against the law.”

  “Thank you for your opinion. I’m impressed you know the mating habits of the pigeon. That’s what I get for defending your honor.”

  “Poppycock. You were having a wonderful time marching about, throwing down the silly glove and glaring while people looked on. You loved having the women simper over your daring masculinity.”

  “Sit down, drink your coffee and watch your tongue,” he said. “The coffee may unscramble your brain. Mergatroyd did not accept my challenge, the coward.”

  “On the other hand,” Fleur said, “I am grateful to you for such a wonderful rescue. If I hadn’t been frightened I should have found it thrilling. It had a sort of mythic, larger-than-life quality about it. You should have worn a golden breastplate and helmet—and some of those little puffed trouser things with long hose. Parti-colored, I should think.”

  “I’m not aware that men ever fought in body armor and parti-colored hose, Fleur. Bit of a mishmash, wouldn’t you think?”

  What has happened to the Voice?

  “Have you considered,” she said, “that The Cat may be at the ball tomorrow evening?”

  He looked at her again. “You make my head spin. We go from men in long hose to your ball and The Cat. You must make allowances for my much slower mental abilities.”

  “Sorry. I’ll try to speak more slowly in future.” She sat down and poured cream into her coffee. She would have to brazen this out now. “Mmm. Breakfast smells good,” she said. “Do you suppose there’s enough for me to eat here?”

  “I doubt if your little pickings will be noticed,” he said. “This is what the men eat for breakfast.”

  “Really? Let’s hope there’s something other than bones to sharpen the teeth on and lumps of raw and bloody meat to chew.”

  He laughed. “Ah, Fleur, what should we do without you here? It used to be so dull.” Dominic’s lips remained turned up but his eyes grew somber while he looked at her. He made it all but impossible to look away.

  Should she mention she’d found the daisy chain? Instinctively she knew the man who had picked flowers yesterday had hidden himself safely away again and wouldn’t appreciate any reminders from her.

  He did play such games with her. Fleur popped up, took a plate and returned to the board. “Kidneys! I love them. And kippers. Oh, yum.” She filled her plate until the food showed signs of falling off the sides and returned to her place. Dominic had made sure he poured coffee into a cup on the opposite side of the table and two chairs to the left of his.

  The kidneys were delicious. She spread butter on several pieces of toast from the rack and placed scrambled eggs on top of one. Mama would scold if she was here, but she wasn’t. And Dominic wouldn’t notice. She crunched her teeth into the toast and barely caught a lump of egg before it would have slopped to the plate. This she poked back on the toast and popped into her mouth.

  “Congratulations,” Dominic said. “You have a quick hand with a falling egg.”

  She inclined her head at the same angle as his and smiled. “Thank you. Um, I hate to bother you when you’re so busy, but have you seen the other paper?”

  “The Post is here.” He pointed to the chair be
side him and began to pull out the paper.

  “No. Actually I wanted to look at the London Ladies’ Voice. I know it’s a silly gossip rag but I only look at the advertisements.”

  “Good morning, Fleur.” Nathan strolled in, also minus a jacket or neckcloth. “I say, what brings you here at such an hour?”

  “What brings her here at all?” Dominic added without looking at his brother. “Or you, come to that? I looked forward to a quiet breakfast alone.”

  “Charming,” Nathan said. “Such a gracious welcome.” He got a plate of pheasant with eggs and ham.

  Finally he took a good look at Fleur and smiled broadly. “I don’t know why you’re up early, either, but I’m so glad you are,” he said quietly and sat down beside her. “You look splendid. Warm and soft and just out of bed. And dare I say it—cuddly.” He gave her the most disarming smile and poured himself some coffee.

  “What a nice thing to say,” she told him. He was such a nice man who always knew how to make her feel comfortable.

  An icy stillness caused her to look in Dominic’s direction. He frowned at Nathan until the two of them stared across the table at each other. Nathan shrugged but Dominic’s expression didn’t soften. He pointed a long, threatening forefinger but said nothing.

  “Good gracious,” Fleur said, shaken by Dominic’s hostility. “What’s that about? All that glaring and not saying anything? How unpleasant.”

  “You,” Dominic said, “are naive and this oaf takes advantage of the fact.”

  “He has never taken advantage of me,” Fleur said heatedly. “Nathan does his best to make me feel at home.”

  “I expect he does. Could you make time for me later, Nathan?”

  Nathan rolled his eyes. “Again?” He took a piece of pheasant on his fork and held it before Fleur’s face until she opened her mouth and took the meat off with her teeth. “Good, hmm?” he asked.

  “Ooh, wonderful.”

  Another cool sensation reached her from Dominic’s direction. His nostrils flared, his knuckles turned white, and for all the world Fleur expected him to produce another glove from somewhere.