“In Town! Oh, I envy you such travels, Your Grace.”
She would not be dissuaded. Alexander was in peril of being enchanted by this damsel. “It is the food that I love best there,” he confided, then patted his padded belly. “I could eat all the day long there, and invariably, I need to have my waistcoats let out after a sojourn in London.”
She laughed lightly. “Perhaps I would have to loosen my stays.”
Alexander nearly offered to help with that task, but he recalled himself. He giggled in a frivolous fashion. “Oh, I have to loosen mine!” he confided in a girlish voice.
She faltered only briefly, then fixed her attention upon him again. “But you must find some appeal at Airdfinnan. Surely the hunting is excellent there.”
“I am told that it is, and I suppose we do eat game there with some frequency.” Alexander made a moue of distaste. “But I could never hunt. To kill something? Never! The blood! The horror!” He waved his hands helplessly, then seized upon his fork and gobbled his roast duck and gravy.
“I love to hunt,” Miss Goodenham admitted, much to his surprise. “I’ve only been once, though. My cousin, the viscount, invited us this autumn after he returned to North Barrows with his new wife. I found it thrilling.”
‘Thrilling’ was exactly how Alexander felt about the hunt.
Indeed, the quest he undertook was a hunt and he savored every moment of it.
His mouth went dry. It was easy to imagine riding to hunt at Airdfinnan with this alluring beauty by his side.
“I suppose the weather was fine,” he said.
She laughed and he’d never heard a more wondrous sound. “It was horrible, Your Grace! It rained and rained. We were filthy with muck, but my cousin took a deer. It was so exciting!” Her eyes shone at the memory, and Alexander found himself shifting on his chair.
This was madness. He could not have any matter in common with this beautiful girl. He should not be tempted. He had no time for distraction.
Not until this mission was completed and the villain brought to justice.
Despite Anthea’s challenge.
In the back of his mind, Alexander was already considering the merit of opening the London house early, and journeying there from Cornwall himself. If his mission was successful, he would have to return the gem to Cushing and make his report to the crown, after all. What harm would it be to take the delightful Miss Goodenham shopping?
“Perhaps you are a better man than me, Miss Goodenham,” he said with a giggle.
She smiled at him. “Perhaps opposites truly do attract, Your Grace.”
Oh, she was bold, and he was charmed.
“Dessert!” he cried, putting down his cup so sloppily that he might have been drunk. His wine spilled. Miss Goodenham had taken only the barest sip of her wine. Rupert filled his cup again, then brought him a pudding.
“Is it apple?” Miss Goodenham asked. She watched as he tasted it.
“I suppose it might be. It needs a rum sauce to be edible,” Alexander declared, although it was delicious, and Rupert left in pursuit of that very thing.
“May I be so bold as to ask your destination, Your Grace?”
“Cornwall. My doctor believes that the sea air will be restorative, though I will not bore you with a full list of my maladies...”
“Cornwall!” Miss Goodenham said, interrupting him with delight. He nodded warily. “Well, that is where we are going,” she confessed. “To Castle Keyvnor. There will be a double wedding there on Christmas Eve. I think it is so romantic!”
They had the same destination.
Praise be that he had remained consistent with his disguise.
And he would see her again. His heart lurched at the prospect.
Miss Goodenham continued. “We were there at All Hallows, and now we return for the weddings. Where in Cornwall are you destined, Your Grace?”
“My man has booked a room in some place called Bowkum...” He waved to the returning Haskell as if he’d forgotten their destination.
“Bocka Morrow, Your Grace,” Haskell supplied. “The inn is called The Mermaid’s Kiss. It is most reputable.”
Miss Goodenham was clearly pleased. “Bocka Morrow! Why, that is the village near Castle Keyvnor! Will we see you at the castle itself, Your Grace? We attend the weddings of the two daughters of the Earl of Banfield.”
“Regrettably, I am not acquainted with the current earl.”
“But you must come and walk with me,” she insisted, her hand stealing to his cuff again. “I should so like to see you again, Your Grace.”
Their gazes met and clung, and Alexander’s heart clenched.
“Daphne!” Lady North Barrows barked. “You have scarcely eaten a bite and we must carry on.” She inclined her head. “Although the duke has been most gracious in his hospitality, I am certain he desires a little time to himself. Regrettably, we have no leisure for dessert.”
The pudding was set before him again, fairly submerged in a rum sauce, and Alexander hoped the ladies did leave him shortly. There was no way he could eat the entire massive serving, but his disguise meant that he would have to do as much if he were witnessed.
“Regrettably,” Miss Goodenham echoed under her breath.
“That is a shame,” Alexander said, rising to his feet. He acted as if he were unsteady and gripped the table, wondering if he could tip the entire thing without injuring any of the ladies. It was a sturdy table, unfortunately, for the feat would have made a fine display of his apparent shortcomings. The ladies rose and each came to express their thanks, as well as to say farewell, and he would not have been a man if Miss Goodenham’s sweet smile had not sent heat surging through him again.
What would he give for a single kiss?
He bowed and fussed, and they finally left, the beautiful Miss Goodenham last to depart.
Alexander pushed away his dessert with impatience once they were gone, more than ready to have this final victory behind him. He found himself thinking about the allure of watching a lovely girl being introduced to the pleasures of London.
The seed seemed to wriggle in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it, halfway thinking it had changed shape.
As if it grew a root.
He would put it in water when they reached The Mermaid’s Kiss. Alexander didn’t believe in it, but it couldn’t hurt.
And when it came to Miss Goodenham, he was inclined to take a chance.
“You are shameless,” Eurydice muttered beneath her breath.
Daphne cast her sister a smile. “In the end, you will call me duchess.”
“He’s awful!”
“He’s sweet.”
“He ate with his mouth open!”
“He’s unaccustomed to the company of women.”
Eurydice gave Daphne a skeptical glance. “I suppose you think you’ll be able to charm him into changing his ways.”
“I don’t care if he changes actually.” Daphne paused and looked back at the tavern, hearing the truth in her own words. There was a face in one upper window, watching. She couldn’t make out the person’s features, but there was an unmistakable area of peach-toned fabric. She waved, a little surprised to realize how little the details mattered. She liked talking to him, and the rest was irrelevant. People changed over their lives after all, becoming thinner or heavier, balder or more grey. It was their essence that mattered most and she liked the duke. “He’ll suit me well, just as he is.”
Eurydice climbed into the carriage, her disgust clear. “He hates the country.”
“He hasn’t seen it at its best. The viscount never favored North Barrows until he took a wife.”
“He drank too much.”
“He did not. I watched. He gave the appearance of being besotted but he drank very little.” Daphne bit her lip. “I wonder why he would do that?”
“Perhaps he drinks so seldom that wine affects him more powerfully.”
“Perhaps. But then, how would he have known so much about the v
intages?”
Eurydice shrugged, having no ready answer for that.
Grandmaman took her place in the carriage then, and began to dictate orders to Nelson about their stop that night. The girls ceased their conversation, Daphne looking out the window and Eurydice returning to her book. Jenny’s sniffle was louder and the girl blew her nose with increasing frequency.
Daphne was thinking furiously. The fact was that her impressions of the duke did not fit together. On the one hand, he appeared to be a frivolous fop, concerned only with his own comfort and desires. On the other, she felt a strange thrill when his gaze met hers, and those blue eyes carried an intensity that did not match his words. His belly was large as if he were fat, but his legs were most fine, and his face—when she ignored the rouge—was both masculine and handsome.
It made no sense.
Perhaps she was wrong. Eurydice was the clever one and she thought the duke was precisely as he appeared.
In the end, it mattered little, though. He was interested in her and she did not care why. Daphne was more than delighted that she would have the opportunity to see the Duke of Inverfyre again, and very soon.
Chapter 2
“It’s a remarkable piece,” Rupert said, his admiration a perfect echo of Alexander’s own. “But then, you’ve seen the original.”
“The resemblance is uncanny.” Alexander turned the replica in his hand, letting the candlelight catch the facets of the cut stones. They shone brilliantly, and he was impressed by the workmanship. “I’ve never seen so fine a fraud. I could only tell them apart when I had the genuine Eye of India in one hand and this counterfeit one in the other, and then only with close examination.” He didn’t tell even Rupert about the small mark on the back of the forgery, made so that they could be reliably distinguished. Cushing was nothing if not diligent.
The two men were in Alexander’s rented quarters at the Mermaid’s Kiss. The hour was so late that the tavern had quieted below and they kept their voices very soft as they conferred. Alexander had shed his disguise with relief and sat at the table before the fire in his shirt, boots and breeches. Rupert had drawn the drape and locked the door before Alexander removed the pin from its hiding place.
The pin, which was a duplicate of the one being sent to Lady Tamsyn, was oblong in shape and filled Alexander’s palm. In its middle was a large cut oval sapphire of deep blue color, as large as the nail of Alexander’s thumb. It was surrounded by cut diamonds in glittering ribbons, the whole set in platinum.
At least, the original was a sapphire with diamonds set in platinum. The one Alexander held was glass and paste set in tin. He tilted it toward the light and smiled. “Look. Even the eye portrait has been faithfully reproduced.”
“Eye portrait?” Rupert leaned closer.
“It’s a piece that was originally exchanged between lovers. That’s why it’s called the Lover’s Eye. The original recipient was given the gem by a lover, and this is a portrait of his eye.”
“Who was he?”
“No one knows, but Cushing has contrived a tale that Jonathan Hambly had it made for Emily Hawkins but never gave it to her due to her early and sudden death. That’s why he’s sending it to the bride, who is the oldest daughter of the current earl.”
“Quite a generous gift.”
“Remarkably so.
“Won’t she be suspicious?”
“Cushing is believed to be eccentric and, in my experience, people are most willing to accept rich gifts, even with meager explanations. Cushing is a distant relation.” Alexander slipped the gem back into its velvet sack, knotted the drawstring, then placed it into a second velvet bag. Even the bags containing the real gem and the copy were perfect replicas, which made his task much simpler. “You confirmed that it was delivered today?”
“By Cushing’s great-nephew, as anticipated. Nathaniel Cushing.”
Alexander nodded. “Then the exchange must be made tonight.”
“Are you certain you should go alone?” Rupert asked, peeking around the window shade. The evening was clear, the moon nearly full. Alexander might have wished for a few clouds to better hide his activities, but he would make do.
He donned his dark jacket, a large soft hat and his hooded cloak. He tugged on his boots and shoved his gloves into his belt. “Absolutely. You may have to pretend to be me in my absence.” Alexander smiled at the very thought.
“Good Lord!” Rupert exclaimed, imitating Alexander’s foppish tone very well. “Is there no decent flame to be had in this hovel?” He raised his voice, sounding shrill. “This chimney smokes beyond belief and the bed is as cold as ice. Go and fetch more wood for the fire, Haskell. I don’t care what these barbarians have to say of it!”
The men exchanged a glance and a nod, then Alexander unbolted the door. “Aye, Your Grace,” he said gruffly, knowing he was not as good a mimic as his friend. “Immediately, Your Grace.”
“Well, don’t stand there, letting in the draft,” Rupert whined. “I already have a sniffle and you know I can’t tolerate a chill. Hurry, man!”
Alexander strode from the chamber, but he fetched only one load of wood for the fire. He descended as if to gather a second load, but left the tavern instead. It would take him a good half hour to walk to Castle Keyvnor by a circuitous route, and he could only hope that there were few souls abroad at this hour to notice his passage.
Daphne awakened when Castle Keyvnor was dark and quiet, her heart pounding and her palms slick. It had been her familiar nightmare again, the one in which Grandmaman passed and they were left close to penniless.
Again.
Eurydice did not recall that fortnight between the news of their parents’ death and Grandmaman’s return from Bath, when uncertainty had filled young Daphne’s every moment. She was determined to never be so vulnerable again.
But Grandmaman grew older and still Daphne wasn’t married.
Everything could change in a moment. She clutched the linens and wished again that her Christmas wish would come true.
It had been a long time since Daphne had vowed to take care of Eurydice forever, and perhaps her sister had forgotten the pledge. Daphne never would.
She had to marry well and soon.
Her wish had seemed to show promise when they’d unexpectedly encountered the Duke of Inverfyre—even more so when he watched her so intently—but his carriage had passed theirs that afternoon and they hadn’t seen him again.
Daphne had liked him, too. Surely the opportunity wasn’t lost forever?
Jenny’s cold had grown steadily worse as they journeyed south and Eurydice had a slight sniffle by the time they arrived. She’d gone to bed early and was still sleeping deeply in the room when Daphne’s dream awakened her.
Daphne stared at the ceiling and feared for the future.
She wished she was the clever one.
The one kind of tutelage to which Daphne took naturally was her grandmother’s instruction about the management of finances. She had expressed curiosity and her grandmother had explained, apparently thinking that a taste would suffice. But Daphne had been curious and more interested in following the path of money than conjugating German verbs. Their lessons had continued ever since, and it was Daphne who was summoned to help her grandmother with the accounts. She knew the sum of the inheritance left to herself and her sister, and recognized that it was a pittance.
Their grandfather had stipulated in his will that if he pre-deceased his wife, she might remain in the smaller house now known as the dower house for her lifetime. Of course, he had passed away before Daphne had been born, before even her father and heir to the estate had taken a wife. Once Grandmaman passed, Daphne and Eurydice would have no home, unless their cousin, the viscount, chose to be charitable in Lady North Barrows’ absence.
Daphne would rather be reliant upon a husband than a cousin, and thus she was resolved to marry for both money and title. Her sister thought this was a foolish whim, but it was an utterly practical choice.
&
nbsp; Eurydice was right on one account: the title was a whim. Daphne didn’t truly need to be a duchess. People were more accepting of an ambition to marry a duke than one to wed a wealthy man—and she knew that her grandmother would never permit her to marry an untitled man, independent of his financial situation.
A duke with a fortune it would have to be.
Like the Duke of Inverfyre.
Who had ridden onward, as if he’d forgotten her.
In the night, with uncertainty lingering from her dream, all horrors seemed possible.
Daphne tossed and turned but could not go back to sleep.
At home, she often went to the kitchen after her nightmare.
Her belly growled, as if to encourage the idea.
Daphne rose and donned a robe. She debated the merit of ringing the bell, but knew that Jenny needed her sleep to battle that fearsome cold. She didn’t want to awaken Nelson or Eurydice either.
Surely no one would mind if she went to the kitchen here?
Surely it would ease her fears to do something, rather than lie abed and fret?
Feeling very bold, she slipped out of their chamber and into the darkened hall. Castle Keyvnor was quiet and cool, filled with shadows. Daphne struck the flint when she was in the corridor and lit the candle she’d brought from the chamber.
The flame blew a little in a draft. Daphne put the flint in her pocket and cupped her hand around the flame, then hurried quietly down the hall.
It seemed the only sound was the rumbling of her stomach. She had a strange sense that she was being watched, which was ridiculous.
Daphne paused at the summit of the stairs, listened and felt her heart skip. Had that been a swishing sound behind her, like the swirling skirt of a taffeta dress?
Of course not. She continued a little more quickly.
A clock chimed somewhere far below her. If it was right, the hour was three in the morning. She retraced their path of earlier in the evening to the foyer, then tried to guess the location of the kitchens. At the end of the corridor on the main floor, there was a smaller door tucked into the corner. It looked as if it led to the servants’ quarters, as it was too plain and small to lead anywhere else.
Charmed at Christmas Page 21