Lord and Master (17 page)

Anthony placed his cup back in its saucer. The brew tasted bitter. Rather than dwelling on a lady he had decided would not suit him, he set his mind to the difficult chore of disentangling himself from Eugene. He wished to offer for Miss Blenkinsop free of interference and have the matter over and done.

It proved no easy task. Anthony ordered Eugene to remain at home while he went to Hoby’s. Upon reaching the boot maker’s shop, though, he sighed when he spotted Eugene getting out of a hackney a short way down the street. The Egyptian man’s white garments stood out in the bustling crowd. The earl threw the reins to his tiger and told him to wait twenty minutes, then take the phaeton home.

Anthony ordered a new pair of boots, then resorted to the old ploy of slipping out the back way of the shop, all the while cursing the circumstances that had brought him to such a pass. He could not fathom what Eugene’s motivations were for staying with him like a sticking plaster.

He wryly congratulated himself, however, when he arrived at the Blenkinsops’ house in Grosvenor Square without Eugene being the wiser.

He asked for Mr. Blenkinsop, confident he would not have long to wait. In this, he was wrong. He cooled his heels in the Blue Saloon a good thirty minutes. During this time, he heard a scream followed by a loud crash coming from the floor above him.

Beginning to wonder what the deuce was going on, Lord Ravenswood was further puzzled by the entrance of Mrs. Blenkinsop and her daughter instead of Mr. Blenkinsop.

He rose and bowed to the ladies. They seated themselves on a sofa, and he sat opposite them, observing that Miss Blenkinsop was even paler than usual. She wore a white muslin gown with a lace fichu tucked in the neck of the dress. Her manner, though, seemed a bit more animated to the earl.

In sharp contrast to her daughter, Mrs. Blenkinsop’s color was high. She wore a gown of purple silk and an air of fury.

But the tone of her voice when she spoke to the earl was mollifying. “My lord, it is most provoking. I have just learned that Mr. Blenkinsop has taken the buffleheaded notion into his brainbox that he must race off to Surrey chasing after some musty old book.”

“Father collects antique volumes, my lord,” Elfleta explained.

Mrs. Blenkinsop eyed her repressively. “It is too bad of him and aggravating beyond words that he should choose to indulge himself at this time. He left at the crack of dawn this morning, quite without my permission, and is not expected back until midday Monday.”

For some unexplainable reason, Anthony felt his shoulders relax and tension drain from his chest. “I shall call on him Tuesday, then.”

“Pish!” Mrs. Blenkinsop exclaimed. “There is no need to wait that long. Mr. Blenkinsop will be happy to receive you Monday afternoon. You young people should not be forced to postpone announcing your, er, happy news.” Mrs. Blenkinsop winked awfully.

Repressing a shudder, Lord Ravenswood said, “I am afraid I cannot call on Monday. I am promised to friends for a country fair in High Jones.”

Elfleta tilted her head at him. She despised the country, but now that she and the earl were all but betrothed, he belonged to her. By rights, if he were going to a fair, he should be escorting her. “A country fair.  How diverting, my lord.”

This broad hint for an invitation caused Lord Ravenswood a moment of unease. He had no desire to increase the party by including his intended and her mother. This would be the only occasion where he would meet Miss Kendall before she learned of his engagement. For some perplexing reason, it was important he share this last day with her.

“A prior commitment requires me to attend. I fear it will be dull work, Miss Blenkinsop.” He rose. “I shall do myself the honor of calling on Mr. Blenkinsop on Tuesday. Pray excuse me, ladies.” He bowed, and raising an eyebrow at her unexpected boldness, he accepted Miss Blenkinsop’s proffered hand and kissed her knuckles.

“We shall look forward to it, my lord,” Mrs. Blenkinsop trilled.

Lord Ravenswood took his leave, bent on spending the rest of the day at his club, White’s, where he would be certain not to encounter any females.

As soon as he quit the room, Elfleta slouched back on the sofa and pouted. “I want to go to that fair.”

“But, Elf, you know you detest the country,” Mrs. Blenkinsop said in some surprise.

“It makes no difference. Lord Ravenswood should have invited me.”

“Well, you shall soon be engaged and appear on his arm at all the events that matter. Surely a country fair cannot be important.” Mrs. Blenkinsop stood and walked to the door. “No need for a fit of the sullens, Elf. All will be well. Except, of course, for your father. All will not be well for him when he returns. I shall see to that! The vexing man.”

Left alone, Elfleta picked listlessly at her gown. Her lips pressed firmly together, she wondered who his lordship planned to attend at the fair.

Coming to a sudden decision, she rang for a servant. “Fetch me a pen and paper,” she instructed the footman who appeared.

The man ran to do her bidding. Elfleta smiled to herself. She would ask Lord Guy to call on her. He seemed smitten. Perhaps he could be persuaded to take her to the fair.

* * * *

In St. James Street, Lord Guy had a number of the gentlemen in his set gathered around him outside White’s club. He gave them a highly altered tale of the previous evening’s events.

“Weary from dancing with all the beauties at the Pelhams’, I returned home to find my bedchamber in shambles.”

“What do you suppose they were looking for, Guy?” a voice asked. “The secret of how your hair stays up high like that?”

A round of good-natured ribbing followed this question. Lord Guy laughed and remained unperturbed. He knew he looked his best today in a coat of tawny orange and pantaloons of a paler orange shade. His waistcoat, also pale orange, had yellow birds frozen in flight embroidered across it.

His pride and joy, the pom-poms on his boots, were a tawny orange to match his coat. He observed with no small measure of satisfaction that young Lord Trimmer had emulated the style. The peer’s boots sported pom-poms of a bright blue shade to coordinate with his coat. This validation of his ability to set a fashion pleased Lord Guy no end.

Lord Guy noted Lord Ravenswood approaching the club and made as if to hail him. Having his friends see he was on intimate terms with the earl could only increase his standing. But Ravenswood’s black expression challenged anyone to greet him as he walked by the group with an all-encompassing nod. Lord Guy’s mouth formed a
moue
of distaste after the earl passed into the club.

He continued his story. “As I was saying, my poor valet lay bound and gagged on the floor. I swung around and saw the intruder was a huge man with a chest like a barrel. The blackguard towered above me and had the wild look of a bedlamite, but I was not deterred. I delivered a right-handed blow and the fellow went down.”

At this juncture, the company’s attention was distracted by the arrival of a sedan chair. This elegant vehicle was lined with white satin, and on its floor lay a white fur rug. A hush fell over the group as the vehicle’s occupant alighted, obviously intending on going into White’s. Lord Guy felt his pulse gallop. Here was no less a personage than Mr. Brummell himself to see him surrounded by friends in his moment of glory!

Lord Guy aligned one booted foot so that Brummell, the unchallenged leader of fashion, could not fail to observe his pom-poms.

Beau Brummell paused. His fingers found his quizzing glass. He slowly raised it to his eye and leveled it at Lord Guy’s boots. Silence reigned.

“Did Hoby make those boots?” the Beau inquired mildly.

Lord Guy puffed out his chest with pride. “’Twas my invention, but Meyer & Miller made them.”

Brummell dropped his quizzing glass. “Ah, that is welcome news. For a moment I thought I would be forced to take my custom elsewhere.”

As one, Lord Guy’s friends followed Brummell into the club. Lord Trimmer dropped behind for a moment to rip the offending pom-poms from his boots and toss them into the street.

Lord Guy, crimson with anger and humiliation, stood alone.

“My lord, my lord!”

Lord Guy swung around and recognized one of the Duchess of Welbourne’s footmen. “What is it?”

“Message for you, sir.”

“Give it to me and be gone,” Lord Guy said curtly. Opening the missive he scanned the contents, and his eyes narrowed. Miss Blenkinsop requested him to call on her at his earliest convenience. He would most certainly go. He wondered what service he might perform for Lord Ravenswood’s soon-to-be fiancée.

Minutes later he bowed low over Elfleta’s hand. “Lovely lady, I came at once.”

The new Elfleta did not demur at the compliment. She knew it was only her due. Her charms would shortly be held incomparable by all once the announcement of her engagement reached the ears of the ton.

“Lord Guy, I knew I could count on your assistance.”

“Indeed, your trust was not misplaced, Miss Blenkinsop. Why, only last night I fought off a vicious housebreaker.”

At Elfleta’s gasp Lord Guy recounted the fictionalized tale. Some of his pride was restored by the girl’s fascination with the account and her murmured admiration for his bravery.

Lord Guy concluded by asking what service he might perform for her.

Elfleta pouted. “Oh, it is only that Lord Ravenswood has refused to escort me to the fair in High Jones this Monday. It is too bad of him as I hear a group of very fashionable people plan to attend.” She had heard no such thing, of course, but was determined to attend the fair and knew the inducement of other members of the ton might sway Lord Guy.

“I say,” he said with a frown. “Never heard of it myself.  High Jones?”

“Yes,” Elfleta assured him. Her hazel eyes gazed at him hopefully.

Lord Guy took the bait. Why not? Here might be an opportunity to put the superior Earl of Ravenswood out of curl. “I shall consider it an honor to escort you. Miss Blenkinsop. Would noon suit you?”

Elfleta smiled. “Oh, yes. I never stray from my room before then.”

Sensible girl, Lord Guy thought, walking down the front step of the town house. A large dowry, he would wager, and what was equally important, she knew how to dress. Her pretty distress at his story of the housebreaker could only serve to further endear her to him. All in all, Miss Blenkinsop was unexceptionable.

What a shame Ravenswood had been before him. Still, nothing was official. Miss Blenkinsop said her papa was away from Town and not expected to return until Monday. The earl had not had an opportunity to speak with him.

Lord Guy remembered Ravenswood’s high-handed treatment of him at the Egyptian Hall and his subsequent coolness. It would afford Lord Guy a great deal of pleasure to come between the haughty Ravenswood and his intended. And how his friends would stare if he stole the prize out from under Ravenswood’s nose!

Lord Guy whistled a jaunty tune and mentally planned the ensemble he would wear to the fair Monday.

* * * *

In Clarges Street, meanwhile, Miss Shelby entered the drawing room and stopped short. Daphne sat on the dark green settee with an open book in her hand. Her attention was not on the pages, however. Instead her gaze focused somewhere beyond the tall window.

Air dreaming, Miss Shelby thought and sighed. Something of significance had occurred last night at the Pelhams’ ball, of that she was certain. Miss Shelby’s intuition told her it was more than just Isabella’s disturbing arrival. But it was clear her young friend was not yet ready to talk about whatever was troubling her.

“Daphne, my dear, how are you this morning?”

Daphne wrenched her thoughts back to the present. She had once again been in that deserted anteroom with the earl. Grateful to Miss Shelby for the interruption of these pointless contemplations, she smiled and patted the seat next to her. “Good morning, Leonie. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, indeed, yes,” Miss Shelby dissembled.

She had, in fact, tossed and turned upon her bed for the majority of the night. Her thoughts had centered on Eugene and her deepening feelings for him. She believed he returned her sentiments, and this view caused her great joy. But the manservant was not free to declare himself. Miss Shelby was at a loss as to know how, or even if, this would happen.

But Daphne did not need to be burdened with anyone else’s problems. She sat on the settee next to her.

Daphne reached over and squeezed her hand affectionately. “I am glad you rested well, Leonie. Mihos kept me company last night. His leg has healed nicely.”

“Thanks to your tender nursing,” Miss Shelby reminded her.

Daphne smiled. “I am very fond of him, you know. Soon we must return him to Lord Ravenswood, and I shall be sad to do so.”

Miss Shelby’s sharp gaze recognized the wistful expression on Daphne’s face. While Mihos was an adorable feline, she would wager the young woman’s forlorn countenance was caused by the cat’s owner.

Miss Shelby lifted a hand and delicately smoothed Daphne’s hair. “Mihos is a love. One must get past his ferocious, growling meow to know the true gentleness of his character.”

“He does sometimes behave like a tiger, roaring and acting fierce.”

Miss Shelby nodded and gave a little laugh. “So like the gentlemen, would you not say? They often present one face, even say certain things, when what lies in their hearts is something altogether different.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Daphne replied absently. She swallowed hard, and her gaze strayed back to the window.

Miss Shelby dropped her hand, content that she had planted a seed. “Does it not appear to be a lovely day? I wonder, dear, if you might wish to do some shopping. I confess I have allowed Folly access to my bedchamber, and the lamentable result is I need a new bonnet for our trip to the fair.”

Daphne turned her head back to her companion, her eyes twinkling. “Never say that ramshackle fellow has chewed your bonnet. He has quite the penchant for headgear.”

Miss Shelby chuckled. “I am afraid so. I believe it might be beaver that attracts him. Recollect that Lord Ravenswood’s hat was made of beaver, and my bonnet was trimmed in beaver.”