Lord and Master (11 page)

“Stop!” Miss Shelby begged with a smile.

“Now, what could the Duchess of Welbourne possibly say to disturb a lady of so many virtues? There is no more to be said. Let us enjoy the rest of the exhibit.”

Boldly taking her hand and drawing it through his arm to rest on the sleeve of his white tunic, Eugene began leading Miss Shelby in the direction Lord Ravenswood had recently gone.

Suddenly the manservant stopped and turned around. He reached up and touched the eye-pin in his turban, his face wrinkled in concentration.

“What is it, Eugene?” Miss Shelby asked in concern.

Letting his hand drop to his side, Eugene once more took Miss Shelby’s arm. “Nothing. It was nothing.” His features relaxed. “A mere feeling, but it has passed. We can continue on our way.”

A few steps away from where they had been conversing, and hidden from view by a sixteen-foot-high stuffed giraffe, Vincent Phillips watched them go, his heart pounding with excitement in his chest.

Earlier, when he had been talking with the beautiful red-haired woman, Vincent had been unable to believe his luck when he spied Eugene across the museum.

Good fortune, it seemed, had finally found him. It had certainly not been with him three and a half weeks ago at the museum in Baluk.

Vincent was quite an accomplished thief. His career had begun over ten years ago when he was a mere youth. The story he had told Daphne was a crafty blend of fact and fiction.

Brought up in Egypt, he was left to his own devices when his parents had been killed by bandits. He received only a small sum after his family’s debts were paid off, and had written to appeal for help to his grandfather in England.

The gentleman was a baron, but of little consequence or wealth. His reply to his grandson was brief. The young man was welcome to make his home in Suffolk, where he might enter the clergy or apply for a post as a secretary, but the baron had not the financial means to support him in Egypt.

Having a very high opinion of himself, Vincent had been angry at this response. He was loath to leave the country where he had lived all his life to eke out an existence in a land he did not know. Indeed, his intention was to become rich at any cost.

Good looks and quick ways soon provided a living on the wrong side of the law. He had confined the first part of his career to jewelry theft. But, in the last three years, he had branched out to the art world.

When a collector in Philadelphia let it be known how much he was willing to pay for a particular statue of Bastet, Vincent became determined to be the one to lay the statue at his doorstep and receive his reward.

The plan to steal the treasured Bastet statue had been carefully conceived. Dressed in black and heavily masked, on the night he was to carry out the theft, Vincent had entered the Baluk Museum, only to see another man reaching into the case and removing the statue.

Vincent had been struck dumb. How had the man gotten in? Vincent himself had overcome three guards. In addition, there had been a powerful lock—still intact—on the door to the room where the statue was housed, which had taken even one with Vincent’s talents several minutes to pick. Then there was the matter of the lock on the case where Bastet stood.

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?”

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.”