A Kiss in the Dark (20 page)

“Dustbin,” Dauntry said. “The game is over, Tory. I know Tony was here, and if I did not, you may be sure I would recognize the suit she wore on her honeymoon. It was one of her chief concerns for a week.”

“I’ll just check the pockets, then,” Tory said, unashamed at being caught dead to rights. “It would be a pity to throw out a good handkerchief or a bit of loose change.”

She rifled through the pockets and drew out a crumpled bit of paper. “What is this?” she asked, frowning over it. “I cannot make heads or tails of it. It must be French, though it don’t look quite like it either, all jumbled up with numbers. Some game she and Lord Harold were playing, very likely, before the gossoon went and drank hisself into a stupor.”

She crumpled the paper up and was about to drop it in the wastebasket when Dauntry suddenly stiffened. “Let me see it,” he said in an excited voice.

Tory handed it over. As he read it, a smile of triumph seized his swarthy face. “That will be all, Tory,” he said.

“A pity about the slipper,” she said, holding it out for their inspection. “It could be fixed up with little trouble.”

“Thank you,” Cressida said, and took it from her. “That will be all, Tory.”

“Could I bring you a nice cup of tea?” Tory asked. Sensing some importance in the paper, she was inclined to linger.

“No, thank you,” Dauntry said. “Just run along,” he added when she still stood.

“I’ll have a word with Old Muffet,” she decided. “Very likely he could do with a cup, what with all the doings afoot.”

On this cryptic speech, she left.

“What is it? Is it the letter?” Cressida asked.

“Yes. Tony must have picked it up when she was at the cottage. There is some of her scribbling on the back. It looks like the beginning of a note to Mama. ‘Please don’t tell Dauntry,’ she has written.” He frowned at that, but soon reverted to the letter.

“I must get this off to London at once. If I leave now, I can be back by tomorrow morning.”

“Whatever you think, Dauntry. You will be careful.” She placed a small white hand on his sleeve. “I should hate to lose you so soon. No one would ever believe I had an offer from you.”

“I still can’t believe you accepted.” Holding up the letter, he said, “This is my lucky day. I have a distinct feeling all my days will be lucky from now on.” Then he kissed her gently and left.

It was over an hour before Beau returned. Cressida awaited him in the saloon, since Miss Wantage had gone upstairs.

“Well, they are off on their second honeymoon,” Beau said. “Lord Harold seems a nice sort when he is being himself. Now that we have gotten that pair sorted out, I can get busy full-time on the
Sea Dog.
You really must give it a try, Sid, or you will be bored to flinders. Oh, by the bye, you will need a new companion. I saw your carriage bowling down the road as I was coming home. Wantage drew to a stop, told me to tell you she will not stay in a house of ill repute. She will catch the stage to Bath in Beachy Head and send John Groom back with the carriage. I told her to take your rig to London, to make sure she don’t make some excuse and come creeping back.”

“She didn’t even say good-bye!” Cressida said. “She must have left while I was in the library with Dauntry.”

“Very likely. How did you get rid of her?”

“She went into a pelter when she saw Dauntry in the library, accused him of sneaking in for immoral purposes.”

“Good God! You will be firmly established as a scarlet woman by the time she is through with you.”

“I must count on my husband to redeem my reputation,” she said, and told Beau about her engagement.

“Ah, so you have brought him up to scratch. Good work. Wish you happy and all that rot. You want to get shackled right away, before Wantage changes her mind and comes scrambling back to pester you. I daresay Lady Dauntry—the dowager, I mean—won’t be wanting the dower house until autumn. I shall stay on here with my
Sea Dog.
I wonder if Hanson and Toby would like to come down and join me. We could have some races.”

When he began to speak of reefed mainsails and trysails and other nautical matters, Cressida just sat, letting the meaningless words flow over her as she thought of the future. How very strange life was. All those months in London looking about for a match, only to find the perfect one when she had stopped looking.

She excused herself and went to tell Muffet. A few moments later, Tory came sidling into the saloon, wearing a broad smile.

“Congratulations, milady. Old Muffet just told me the news. I have been thinking over matters, for I have an eye in my head to see which way the wind was blowing, as you might say. Lady Dauntry always planned to move into the dower house here when his lordship chose a bride. She will be bringing Eaton, her butler, with her, so I fancy you will take Old Muffet along to the castle to finish out his few years there. That being the case, I wonder if you would put in a word with her ladyship about me taking over as housekeeper here. If I have given satisfaction, that is to say,” she added doubtfully.

“I shall tell her ladyship that I am quite satisfied with your work, Tory,” Cressida said. “Such rampant loyalty as you have shown to the family should be rewarded. I’ll make sure you will deal admirably with the Dowager Lady Dauntry—until we are ready for you to take over at the castle.”

Tory’s broad mouth split in a smile. “Now then, how about a nice cup of tea and a piece of my gingerbread that you are so fond of, your ladyship? I shall rouse Jennet up and tell her the good news. We will be merry as grigs, with the old malkin gone, taking her nasty nervous condition with her.”

On this unservantlike speech, she left, and Cressida returned to her daydreams
.

Copyright © 1995 by Joan Smith

Originally published by Fawcett Crest (ISBN 0449236395)

Electronically published in 2014 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.