by Candace Camp
Myles glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “Jocelyn was an aberration, you know. Not all women are like her.”
Rawdon downed the rest of his drink. “No? Still, I fear I cannot escape myself.”
Seven
Damaris awoke to find a pair of bright blue eyes staring at her. They were set in a flat little pink-nosed face with a cloud of white fur bursting out around it. Damaris blinked, surprised. The cat gazed steadily back at her from its perch on the wooden footboard, unblinking and unmoving except for an occasional twitch of its fluffy tail.
“Well,” Damaris said. “And who might you be? I wonder.”
The animal continued to regard her with its unnerving stare. Damaris felt vaguely at a disadvantage lying on the bed, looking up at the cat, so she sat up. At that moment, the door opened and Edith slipped quietly inside. She glanced over and saw the cat, and her mouth twitched in irritation.
“So you managed to get in, did you?” Edith hissed, coming into the room and laying down the dress she was carrying. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s been trying to sneak in here this past hour. The chambermaid must have let him in.”
The maid made shooing motions at the cat, and Damaris watched in some amusement as the feline ignored Edith, lifting its paw and beginning to wash it. Finally, just as Edith started for the small fireplace broom, the cat stood up and jumped lithely to the ground. With a regal air of unconcern, it stalked to the door, its long, full tail held high, and paused at the door, waiting for Edith to open it.
“Sorry,” Edith said again, heaving a gusty sigh as she closed the door behind the cat. “His name is Xerxes, and he belongs to the young miss.”
“Lady Genevieve?” He was, Damaris thought, a perfect pet for Alec’s sister, with the same aristocratic manner and piercing blue eyes. Even the white fur was not far different from Genevieve’s pale blond tresses.
“Yes’m. When I came down the hall this morning, he was climbing the drapes in the hall. They say he likes to lie on top of them and jump down on the maids. He’s a terror, but the young miss is terrible fond of him.”
Damaris thought it better not to comment on the “young miss’s” own personality. After all, she barely knew the girl, and having a visitor thrust upon one like this could not be easy. Besides, perhaps there was more to Genevieve than her frosty manner showed. Alec could scarcely be termed a warm man, either, yet it was clear he had undiscovered depths. Or was she merely indulging in romantic nonsense about him? True, he had come to her aid immediately, and she could not but think that she was right in assuming he was the man to turn to in danger. But it might be simply that he welcomed a fight, not that his concern was aroused. And even if it was, it did not signify. It was beyond foolish for her to think about the Earl of Rawdon.
Indeed, it had been foolish of her to come here. Last night, as she lay in bed, Damaris had done a good bit of thinking that she had not paused to do earlier, in her panic. When she considered what had happened, it seemed clear to her that it had not simply been a matter of two ruffians deciding to have their way with her. It had not been a spontaneous attack. They had obviously planned it out, had even brought a carriage to carry her away in. They had apparently leased, or at least found, an empty house to bring her to. Of course, there was the possibility of white slavers, but that seemed unlikely. The men had been after her specifically; they had called her name. Why would a ring of white slavers have targeted a woman in such a neighborhood, where they were much more likely to be noticed?
No, those men had had no interest in her other than as the subject for which they were being paid. She felt sure they were acting at someone else’s directive. It seemed equally clear to her who must be behind their actions. There was only one person—or family—who would like to be rid of her. Unfortunately, it was most likely her own grandmother who had hired the ruffians.
It seemed absurd that anyone would go to such lengths to avoid the possibility of a scandal. However, Damaris had no other enemies. After all, the only people she knew in England were her friends in Chesley, and she thought it unlikely in the extreme that any of them would have hired someone to kidnap her. Her grandmother, on the other hand, had been furious with her at the party, and she had obviously feared Damaris would flout her parentage before the ton and bring down disgrace on her father’s legitimate family. And while it had been satisfying to defy her grandmother, she could see that it had perhaps not been the most prudent thing to say. Her attitude had doubtless only increased Lady Sedbury’s fear that Damaris meant to humiliate them, and the woman must have taken steps to make sure it could not happen.
She did not think that Lady Sedbury would have gone so far as to order the men to kill Damaris. At least, she hoped her own grandmother would not do that, no matter how much she held her in contempt. After all, the men had taken her to a house in a decent enough area; she imagined the house had not been uncomfortable inside. Probably they planned to threaten Damaris with dire consequences if she did not leave England, or perhaps they intended to transport her out of the country themselves, taking her across the Channel to Calais or some other port.
It was not a pleasant notion, realizing her father’s family hated her to such an extent. However, it had taken away much of Damaris’s fear. All she had to do to avoid the danger was to leave the city. Damaris tried to ignore the way her heart clenched at that thought. It was the only thing she could do. If she stayed, it would embroil Alec in her battle with the Sedburys, and it would be unfair of her to place him in conflict with another aristocratic family. No, she must leave.
But she could not keep her steps from dragging later as she made her way downstairs to the breakfast table. Glancing up, she spotted the white cat perched on the top of one of the draperies, peering down over his white paws. Damaris narrowed her eyes at him, remembering Edith’s tale of his trick with the maids.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned, and the cat’s tail lashed, but he stayed where he was.
As she neared the breakfast room, she heard the sound of Alec’s voice, followed by the higher tone of his sister’s. Damaris was relieved not to hear his grandmother’s.
“… only Myles,” Genevieve was saying scornfully as Damaris drew near enough to distinguish their words.
“I cannot understand what you hold against Myles,” her brother responded mildly. “He is usually quite popular with young ladies.”
“Exactly,” Genevieve retorted. “The man is an inveterate flirt.”
“Ah, then you are looking for a man with serious intentions,” Alec mused, and Damaris realized with a little start of surprise that he was teasing his sister. Somehow, playful sibling teasing was not something in which she would have envisioned either of them participating.
“I am not looking for a man at all,” Genevieve shot back, and suddenly laughter gurgled up out of the girl, light and melodic and so unexpected that Damaris came to a dead stop in her surprise. “Oh, stop mocking me. One would think I was still fifteen, the way you act.”
“It has not been that long, Genny.”
“Hah. Ten years. I am a veritable ape leader now, as you well know.”
“I would never call you such a thing.”
“Only because you know I would make you regret it.”
Damaris paused at the open doorway, taking in the pleasant scene before her. Alec sat at the head of the table with his sister at his right hand, the summer sunshine streaming in warmly through the open window beyond them. The window looked onto a small side garden, shielded from the noises of the street by a high brick wall. Roses bloomed in profusion beneath the window, their heady scent drifting inside. Alec and Genevieve sat looking at each other, their fair hair and light blue eyes strikingly similar, laughter and affection giving their expressions a warmth normally missing.
Then Genevieve glanced over at the doorway and saw Damaris, and her face settled quickly into its usual remote lines. “Mrs. Howard. Good morning.”
Unlike Genevieve, Alec’s smile broaden
ed, and he turned, coming to his feet. “Mrs. Howard.”
His pale blue eyes were bright, and it seemed to Damaris as if they burned right into her. She felt suddenly breathless and blushing, and no matter how she told herself it was absurd for her to be this way, she could not hold back the smile that spread across her face. He came forward, then stopped a bit awkwardly. Damaris held out her hand to him, and he took it, a light flashing in his eyes, and he bowed over her hand.
“I trust that you are feeling improved after your experience last night.” His fingers tightened fractionally on hers, and Damaris was very aware of his skin warm and bare against hers. She had not, she reflected, ever seen him early in the morning. He was even more handsome, the subtle colors of his skin and hair and eyes clear and distinctive in the golden wash of the light.
“Yes, indeed, thank you.” She realized that her own fingers had tightened in response to his touch, and their hands were still together long after they should have broken their hold. A trifle embarrassed, she released his hand and turned toward the table, her eyes flickering over to Genevieve to see if she had noticed. From the carefully blank expression on the woman’s face, Damaris felt sure she had.
“I hope you found everything to your liking,” Genevieve said as Rawdon pulled out Damaris’s chair for her. She reached out and politely poured their guest a cup of tea.
“Yes, thank you. It is a lovely room.” That was no more than the truth. “So elegant.” She smiled at Genevieve and added, “I believe I met your cat this morning.”
“Xerxes?” Genevieve looked startled, then wary.
Alec let out a small snort. “‘Satan’ is more like it.”
“I hope he was no trouble to you,” Genevieve continued, ignoring her brother’s comment.
“Not at all. He merely dropped in for a visit. Such a beautiful animal. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such blue eyes on a cat.”
“He is an Angora. One of Grandmother’s friends brought him to her from Paris.”
“He likes no one but Genevieve,” Alec put in. “So he soon became her pet rather than the countess’s. He is the scourge of the rest of the household.”
“You are just jealous because Xerxes sent your dog off with his tail tucked between his legs.”
Alec chuckled. “Yes. Poor Shadow.”
As they spoke, a footman had been dishing up food onto Damaris’s plate, and she set to eating it with some enthusiasm, her stomach reminding her that she had eaten little the day before. Genevieve and Alec kept up a casual, desultory conversation which necessitated little input from Damaris, and she was just as glad, for her own mind was occupied with making plans to leave London. After a moment, she was aware that the conversation had paused and both Alec and Genevieve were looking at her, and she realized, with a guilty start, that she must have been asked a question.
“I’m sorry. I am afraid my mind drifted,” she began.
“Perfectly understandable,” Genevieve said. “You have been through quite an ordeal. Rawdon had asked about my plans, and I was saying that I had a few calls to make this morning. But no doubt you are not feeling up to making calls.”
“Thank you for asking,” Damaris replied quickly, though, she reflected, Genevieve’s statement had not actually included an invitation, only a plausible reason for Damaris not to accompany her. “But you are, of course, right. I don’t think I shall make any calls today.”
“Perhaps you should just stay in, too, Gen,” Alec began.
“Oh, no,” Damaris hastened to say. “Pray, do not change your plans for me, Lady Genevieve. I will manage quite well on my own. I have a number of things to attend to, in any case.”
“You are most kind,” Genevieve replied, rising to her feet. “There are a number of visits I really must make, so if you will excuse me…”
Alec rose politely as his sister left the room, but sat down again immediately and turned his gaze on Damaris. “If you have things to attend to in the city, I shall be happy to escort you. I have some business I must settle this morning, but I will be back this afternoon, and—”
“There is no need for you to rearrange your schedule,” Damaris assured him. “I need only to visit my banker and, of course, I must return to my house.”
“Damaris, we discussed this. Your maid brought your things over here.”
“Yes, of course, but surely you must see that I cannot continue to live here indefinitely.”
“I am not talking about indefinitely. Only until I find out what is going on. I plan to set a Runner to hunting for your abductors today. He is quite good, I’ve found, and I expect it will be no more than a matter of days before he tracks them down.”
“Alec! No.” Damaris’s voice rose in some alarm. “Truly, it is not necessary. You must not put yourself to any bother about this.”
“’Tis no bother.”
“No, please. Really, there is no need. I have been thinking, and it is clear to me that what I should do is leave London.”
“Leave!” His brows drew together. “But why—is there something you are not telling me? You said you didn’t know those men.”
“I don’t! I have no idea who they are. But I—I believe I may have overreacted.”
“To two men grabbing you in the street and tossing you in a carriage? How could you have overreacted?”
“What I mean is, they did not hurt me. I don’t know that they would have hurt me.”
“I cannot imagine what else you could think they meant to do.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t. Because you have not said anything that makes sense.”
She paused, drawing a breath, then said, on a sigh, “I am not sure, but after I thought about it, I decided… well, I believe it is a family matter.”
She had succeeded in astonishing him into speechlessness. He stared at her for a long moment. “Your family is trying to kill you?” He lifted his brows. “Perhaps my family is not as bad as I thought.”
“No, I don’t think they are trying to kill me. I just told you, they didn’t hurt me. That was what made me realize…”
“So, if it is your family, why are you running away from them?”
“I’m not running away!” Damaris retorted indignantly.
“What else would you call it?”
“Being prudent. That is what I would call it. There is no reason for me to be in London. I merely came to make some purchases, see a few plays, and so on. I have done that. Leaving is a simple solution to the problem. If I am not here, they will not be able to abduct me again.”
“Unless they follow you,” he pointed out. “If someone means to do you harm, why would they stop because you remove yourself from London? They can attack you in Chesley just as easily—probably more so. Or on the road as you travel.”
“I am not going to Chesley. I have a mind to visit the Continent. I might summer in Switzerland.”
“Switzerland! Devil take it, Damaris, you mean to flee the country? What is going on? Please don’t expect me to believe that you are ready to run to the Continent over some trifling ‘family’ matter.”
“It isn’t trifling, at least not to them.” Damaris glanced at him and away.
She knew she ought to tell him everything. It was the only way to make him understand why her family would resort to such lengths to get rid of her. But she could not bear to see his face when she told him who she was… what she was. She had already been aware of what a proud man Rawdon was, but being here in his house, meeting his grandmother and sister, she had realized that she had probably underestimated that pride.
“I cannot tell you the details about my family,” she said in a low voice.
“You do not trust me?”
“It is not that. But it would be unfair of me to—to reveal their secrets.”
“Blast it, Damaris.” He stood up, shoving back his chair impatiently. “I am not asking you for gossip! How do you expect me to protect you when you will not tell me what is go
ing on?”
“I don’t expect you to protect me. That is what I have been trying to tell you.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” Alec glared. “Stand idly by while you go out to be taken by ruffians again?”
“I don’t plan to be taken by ruffians.” Damaris stood up, too, to face him.
“I hardly think you planned it the first time.”
“Of course not.” Damaris slapped her napkin down on the table. “But I was not prepared for it then. Now I am. I am taking actions to keep from being harmed.”
“Have I given you reason to think that I cannot take care of you? Keep you from harm?” Alec lifted his chin, looking down at her from his superior height, appearing so much the essence of cold aristocratic hauteur that it made Damaris fairly vibrate with antagonism.
“It is not your responsibility to take care of me!” she shot back.
“You came to me; that makes it my responsibility.”
“No, it does not. And I am beginning to wish that I had gone somewhere else.”
“Well, you did not.” He gave her a long, baleful look, then swung away and walked to the door. He turned back. “I am going to find out who attacked you. And I am going to put a stop to it. When I return, we will thrash this all out. But in the meantime, you stay here. Inside. Do not go out and put yourself into danger.” He paused, and when Damaris made no response, he said in a goading manner, “Am I clear?”
Damaris crossed her arms, her chin jutting mutinously. “Oh. Perfectly clear.”
She had the satisfaction of seeing uncertainty flicker across Rawdon’s controlled face before he turned and left the room. Damaris refrained from picking up her cup and tossing it out into the hallway after him, though she had a strong and childish urge to do so. She stood for a moment, fulminating, then walked out, moving in long, purposeful strides down the hall and up the stairs to her room.
“Edith, pack my things,” she said as soon as she entered her chamber.
The maid, who was busy sewing up a ripped flounce on one of Damaris’s evening gowns, gaped at her. “But—” Edith glanced around and returned her gaze to Damaris. “But I just unpacked them.”