Lord and Master

by Rosemary Stevens

  During the moments when Vincent stood in shock, the other man turned around, and their eyes met. That was all Vincent remembered. The next thing he knew, he was waking up on the floor. The man and the statue were gone.

  Fortunately only a short time had passed, and no hue and cry had been raised. Vincent was able to make his escape.

  Over the next two weeks, he had questioned what seemed like every person in Egypt, trying to find out the identity of the man in the museum. Vincent took it as a personal insult to have had the Bastet statue stolen out from under his nose.

  When at last he learned the man was a mere manservant to Lord Ravenswood, his fury knew no bounds. Upon gaining the knowledge the two had left for England, he made plans and followed suit.

  Vincent had only arrived in London two days before. After checking into the Clarendon Hotel, he had picked up a copy of the Times and seen the notice of artifacts on display at the Egyptian Hall.

  Here, his luck had turned. First, in finding Eugene so easily. Second, in just now overhearing his conversation with this Miss Shelby. It seemed Eugene had given her the cat, as they called the Bastet statue, for safekeeping.

  Vincent smiled. Eugene was even kind enough to reveal where Miss Shelby was employed. It should be no trouble at all to find the direction of the Duchess of Welbourne. And then, Vincent reasoned, he could steal back the statue he should have had in the first place.

  He hurried out of the Egyptian Hall to make plans. Yes, his luck had definitely turned for the better.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning in Clarges Street, Miss Shelby was just coming down the steps leading to the hall when the knocker sounded.

  Cramble shuffled over to open the door. To Miss Shelby’s delight, Eugene stood framed in the doorway, his white tunic rippling in the early morning breeze.

  The elderly butler squinted and said, “I see his lordship coming up the steps behind you. You must wait for him to enter the house first. What kind of manservant are you?”

  Eugene swung around and looked at the empty air behind him, then turned back to the butler with an expression of strained patience on his face. “I am alone this morning. You are mistaken—”

  Miss Shelby hurried to the doorway, the skirts of her chocolate-colored gown swirling about her. She placed a gentle hand on Cramble’s shoulder. “I shall take care of our guest, Cramble. Hamish has prepared a large batch of scones. Why do you not retire to the kitchen and enjoy one or two?”

  The old man turned reluctantly from the doorway and allowed Eugene to pass through. “A good idea, Miss Shelby. But I have no doubt that Scottish devil has contaminated the scones with some of his whiskey. Thinks I don’t see, but I’ve got eyes in my head.”

  Cramble continued to mumble to himself as he turned toward the kitchen. Miss Shelby closed the front door behind Eugene. “The poor man. He is nearly blind, you know, and has become cantankerous. Daphne keeps him out of kindness.”

  Eugene stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Miss Kendall is good. That is one of the reasons I have come to you this morning, Leonie. I hoped we might speak privately.”

  Miss Shelby’s face brightened. “I should like that, Eugene. Would you mind accompanying me to the Park? I was going to exercise the dogs. Daphne and Biggs are occupied with working on her gown for the Pelhams’ ball this evening.”

  Eugene nodded in agreement. “The Park will be invigorating, wise lady. My master is spending the morning at Gentleman Jackson’s, so my time is my own.”

  A short while later Miss Shelby and Eugene strolled comfortably along the Serpentine River near the place where she had first met Daphne.

  “How is Mihos this morning, Leonie?”

  “He cannot be made to be still. Would you believe the valiant fellow is hobbling about on three legs?”

  Miss Shelby went on to describe how Mihos managed to stalk around with his injured paw held off the ground, and how pathetic he was when he found he could not jump up onto the furniture and had to be lifted.

  Outside in the sunshine, Holly, Folly, and Jolly were ready for larks. Miss Shelby had been working diligently on their manners, though, and did not expect any mischief from them this morning.

  Holly, of course, was the picture of canine stateliness as she pranced obediently beside Miss Shelby.

  Jolly, who had acquired a few more pounds to his already stout body, squirmed and rolled on his back in the grass, an expression of bliss on his doggie face.

  Then there was Folly. Ah, well, Folly. He had not turned out to be one of Miss Shelby’s triumphs thus far. Not that she despaired of him, since she was the sort of lady who appreciated high spirits in people and animals.

  Still, the shaggy brown dog needed minding.

  Just now, Folly watched Miss Shelby out of the corner of his eye as he crept quickly toward the water. A frolic along the shallow edge was all the more enticing as it was forbidden territory.

  Unfortunately, since his gaze was on Miss Shelby rather than where he was going, he ran headlong into a small boy of about five years old.

  A scream emitted from the boy’s governess.

  “Folly!” Miss Shelby cried, taking in the scene.

  The little boy fell to the ground, but only laughed in delight. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a red ball, which he threw across the grass with a mighty heave. Folly raced after it, excited at this new game. The boy scrambled to his feet and followed, much to the consternation of his governess.

  “Thomas! Come back here at once!”

  “Yes, Miss Greystone,” the boy shouted. “After I gets my ball.”

  The severe lady turned a furious face to Miss Shelby. “That dog is dangerous!”

  “Dangerous? Folly?” Miss Shelby chuckled. “Oh, no. But his behavior certainly does deserve a reprimand, I grant you.”

  Miss Greystone was not convinced. “I want Master Thomas returned to me at once.”

  At Miss Shelby’s side, Eugene stared intently at Folly’s retreating form. All his concentration appeared focused on the dog.

  Abruptly Folly stopped in his tracks and cocked his head at an angle, the red ball clamped in his jaw. He turned around and began trotting back to where Eugene, Miss Shelby, and the governess were standing.

  The boy grinned and trailed after the dog.

  Upon reaching the adults, Folly dropped the ball in Eugene’s outstretched hand. “Good dog!” Eugene said, and returned the ball to its small owner

  Reunited with her charge, Miss Greystone marched him away in a huff, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind what her opinion was of Folly and his keeper.

  Miss Shelby looked bemusedly at Folly. “I imagine, young man, trying to tell you of your imprudence would be a waste of time.”

  Folly put on his best contrite expression.

  “Oh, would you look at that, Eugene,” Miss Shelby said. “Where can that dog have learned his scapegrace ways? I have pondered the question of who he might have been in a former life and cannot bring any satisfactory answer to mind.”

  “I would not waste precious mental energy on such a matter, Leonie.”

  Miss Shelby sighed. “You are right, Eugene. Was that not a darling little boy? I do hope Daphne might have many children one day who can run and play with the dogs on a large estate in the country. Preferably Lord Ravenswood’s estate.”

  Eugene drew Miss Shelby’s arm through his, and they began retracing their steps through the Park, the canines following.

  “That is my wish also, as you know, Leonie. Because of it, I admit I am disturbed by the continued attention my master is paying to Elfleta Blenkinsop.”

  Miss Shelby nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “Such a lifeless girl! Lord Ravenswood cannot think she would be able to hold his interest year after year.”

  “I do not believe my master is thinking judiciously. Instead he is letting past events distort his judgment.”

  A furrow appeared between Miss Shelby’s brows. “Past events?”

&n
bsp; Eugene drew a deep breath. “I understand that when my master was but a boy, his mother died in childbirth. The babe, too, was lost. Anthony adored his mother, as she was a sweet woman, even if she was not very bright.”

  “How dreadful for a child to lose his mother at a tender age,” Miss Shelby said, thinking perhaps this explained Lord Ravenswood’s stiff, cool manner. Most members of the aristocracy were haughty, in Miss Shelby’s view, but Lord Ravenswood seemed to hold himself even more aloof.

  “It was just he and his father for years, and then the old earl remarried. His new wife, Isabella, was much younger and quite beautiful, I hear. She was also willful and shrewd. Anthony could not tolerate her, and eventually, he left home. Isabella’s reckless ways destroyed Raven’s Hall, and my master came to Egypt to earn enough money to restore it.”

  Miss Shelby shook her head sadly. “What became of Isabella and the earl?”

  “Once the woman had gone through the old earl’s money, she left him to drink himself to death.”

  “How horrible!”

  “Yes. My master is bitter. It is understandable, perhaps, but such long-held anger can only do a person harm. In my master’s case, I fear it will lead him to make a poor marriage.”

  Comprehension dawned on Miss Shelby’s face. “Oh, dear. That is why Miss Blenkinsop is receiving his attentions, is it not? Because she is rather plain and lacking in her upper works. Although I fear, Eugene, you will think me unkind for saying so.”

  “Nothing could make me think you unkind, Leonie,” Eugene said. He admired the heightened peach color his words called forth in Miss Shelby’s cheeks. “And your assessment of Miss Blenkinsop’s appeal is correct. My master thinks he wants a wife who is not too intelligent and therefore will not cause him any problems.”

  Miss Shelby bridled. “What nonsense!”

  “Yes. We must make him see the error of his ways. I ask you, though, not to repeat what I have told you, even to Miss Kendall.”

  “Since you ask it of me, of course I will not. But what can we do?” Miss Shelby asked with a hint of despair in her voice.

  Eugene led her out of die Park and toward Clarges Street. ‘Tonight at the Pelhams’ ball I would like to keep Lord Ravenswood and Miss Blenkinsop apart, but alas, I am not allowed to mingle with the distinguished guests. However, I have learned that on Monday a fair will be held just beyond Richmond, in the village of High Jones.”

  “A fair? Oh, that sounds like an adventure,” Miss Shelby exclaimed.

  Eugene patted her hand, bringing a smile to her lips. Then he said, “We must convince Lord Ravenswood and Miss Kendall to attend. They can come to know one another better and enjoy each other’s company. With luck, Miss Blenkinsop will not be there. I hear it is to be a small fair, nothing grand enough for Mrs. Blenkinsop to consider taking her daughter to visit.”

  They had reached the back of Daphne’s town house, and Miss Shelby shooed the tired dogs toward the kitchen door. “’Twill be the very thing, Eugene. How clever of you to think of it.”

  Eugene gazed into Miss Shelby’s light blue eyes, and a warm feeling overtook him. It was a feeling he thought he saw returned in her expression. “Until this evening, wise lady,” he said, and gave a slight bow of his turbaned head.

  Disconcerted at the intensity of his regard, Miss Shelby ushered the dogs into the house, with only a fleeting glance back at Eugene.

  The manservant remained where he was after the door closed quietly behind Miss Shelby.

  Eugene’s mind was uneasy. He reflected that he had allowed himself to form an attachment for Leonie Shelby. Involvement with women was something he had avoided assiduously over the years, fearing none would ever be able to understand or accept him.

  But Leonie was different. She possessed an uncommon knowledge combined with a sensitivity rarely found. If only he had his freedom so he might further their relationship!

  He turned and walked north toward Bond Street and Gentleman Jackson’s, his mind hard at work. Bastet had been clear in her choice of bride for Lord Ravenswood when she had sent Mihos to guide them to Miss Kendall. Now he must concentrate his efforts on bringing the two together, if he was successful, he could gain his freedom and also please the cat goddess.

  He must meditate on the matter.

  Another subject had been teasing the edges of his brain since the visit to the Egyptian Hall yesterday. He reached up and touched the eye-pin nestled in his turban and recalled the unusual sensation he had experienced as he was escorting Leonie back to Miss Kendall. He felt as if they had been watched. His intuition had indicated a sense of danger.

  And Eugene was not one to ignore his intuition.

  * * * *

  Daphne prepared for the Pelhams’ ball with a fast-beating heart. Late that afternoon she had been arranging flowers in a bowl in the drawing room, when a messenger arrived from Lord Ravenswood. Daphne had put aside the roses and opened the missive with suddenly nerveless fingers.

  His lordship apologized for the lateness of the request, but would she accept his escort to the ball this evening? He had heard there would be a crush, and he could not like her and Miss Shelby arriving without male protection.

  Daphne normally prided herself on her hard-won independence but, oh, what a delicious feeling it was to think Lord Ravenswood was concerned for her safety. She had promptly returned a grateful agreement to his offer and found herself humming the rest of the day.

  Now she sat rather impatiently under Biggs’s ministrations. She noticed the lines of strain on the abigail’s face and guessed the older woman’s hands ached abominably.

  Biggs finally stepped back and surveyed her mistress with an air of satisfaction. “You’ll do, miss.”

  Daphne’s gown was made of taffeta in an unusual shade of sea-green that shimmered with blue lights when she moved. The dress had a very high waist and a daringly low bodice. A sea-green band of velvet tied directly under the bosom and was clasped with a spray of small flowers made of the gown’s material.

  The dress was elegant in its simplicity, designed not to detract from the wearer’s beauty, but instead to enhance it. A delicate gold and diamond necklet and matching earbobs were her only jewelry.

  Biggs had painstakingly fashioned a coronet of tiny flowers made of the same material as the dress to place on Daphne’s shining dark red locks. Her hair had been swept high on her head with curls falling over one ivory shoulder.

  As Daphne smoothed on her long white gloves, a maid scratched at the door. “Ooooh, miss, you do look a treat tonight,” the girl gasped, wide-eyed.

  “Thank you, Betsy.”

  “’Is lordship is downstairs in the hall. That strange servant ’e’s got is outside by the coach. Miss Shelby ’as gone outside with ’im.” Betsy curtsied and left.

  “Well, I had best hurry, then,” Daphne said, picking up a fan and smiling her thanks at her lady’s maid. “Biggs, do not wait up for me. No, I shall not argue with you. It has been a busy day, and you have worked hard so I could look my best. You deserve a rest.”

  Biggs nodded wearily. “Thank you, miss. I hope you enjoy the ball.”

  Daphne’s eyes sparkled. “I confess I am very excited.”

  She tried not to admit to herself how much Lord Ravenswood’s offer to escort her had added to her anticipation of the evening.

  It was hard not to acknowledge this feeling, though, when she walked down the stairs and saw him standing alone in the black-and-white tiled hall, waiting for her in all the glory of his evening finery.

  He was an elegant figure. The white sculpture of his cravat rose above the trim line of a beautifully cut white silk waistcoat. His evening coat of charcoal gray, above paper-white knee breeches, fit to perfection. His muscular calves were shown to advantage in fine white stockings that fitted into thin black pumps.

  Daphne stopped at the bottom of the stairs and met his eyes. She once again felt the spellbinding intensity of his gaze. A silent promise of intimacy in their dark depths sent
a warm shiver running through her.

  His lordship bowed, his eyes never leaving hers, then raised one white-gloved hand to the pin in his cravat. It held a large, bright peridot, the stone known as “evening emerald” for the wondrous green glow it produced by candle flame. “I wore this in an effort to see if the stone’s color duplicated your unusual eyes, but I see now no mere jewel could replicate their loveliness.”

  Daphne felt heat infuse her cheeks. His lordship was not one, in her estimation, to give Spanish coin to a lady. Thus, the compliment affected her deeply. Indeed, now that he had given it, Lord Ravenswood looked decidedly uncomfortable at his own words.

  Daphne curtsied and strove to lessen the tension that had suddenly sprung between them. “My lord, lest you are careful with such flattery, I shall become as full of myself as Lord Guy,” she said lightly.

  “Impossible,” he replied, his voice tight. His countenance brightened, though, as he walked toward the door. Opening it, he observed their coach waiting on the street, but he noticed there was another thing amiss. He said, “Your Cramble seems to have deserted his post.”

  “Oh, no, my lord,” Daphne corrected him as she glided out the door and stood in waiting on the top of the stone step. “’Tis much too late for him to still be awake. On my orders he retires every evening by eight.”

  Lord Ravenswood shook his head and began pulling the door closed. “Miss Kendall, you are too softhearted—”

  “Grraow!”

  “Good God, is that Mihos?” Anthony stopped and bent to pick up me striped cat who had nudged his head through the opening. Mihos nestled himself against his lordship’s bosom and commenced a loud purring in pleasure.

  Oblivious to the cat hairs gathering on his evening coat, Lord Ravenswood said, “I am sorry, my feline friend, I should have inquired after you. I see your leg is still bound with that bandage. Troublesome for you, I wager.”