Lord and Master (3 page)

Eugene was silent as the grave.

The earl gathered the note and a few others, and took himself off to his Library. “I shall ring for you when I am ready to retire, Eugene. Make sure instructions are left with Mrs. Ware that the cat remains with her or in the garden.”

“Yes, master,” Eugene whispered through dry lips.

* * *

Late that night, after making sure Lord Ravenswood would not have further need of him, Eugene closed the door to his own room and bolted it shut.

He put a candle down on the bedside table and opened a serviceable wardrobe containing more of the same type of clothing he had on. Bending down to the bottom of the armoire, he retrieved an article wrapped heavily in burgundy-colored velvet.

He carried it gingerly across the room, unrolled the velvet, and carefully lifted the object and placed it next to the candle on the table. A pair of eyes made out of golden citrine gem-stones winked at him in the light from the flame.

The statue was a woman’s body with a cat’s head. It was made of ebony with fine turquoise lines depicting many concentric necklaces.

“Bastet,” Eugene murmured to the statue. “You have given a great sign today by sending your son, Mihos, to me. I am ever grateful for your benevolence. Your humble slave will do whatever is necessary to see to the cat’s comfort.”

He bowed his head and uttered a string of prayers designed to please the cat goddess, Bastet. When he was finished, he reverently held the statue in his hands for a moment. “The cards told me to bring you to this country, and now I see why.

“Lord Montcross thought to foil me by giving me to a man he thought would not marry, just as he never did. Old curmudgeon! ‘A slave is a slave, a servant a servant, and so it is with you, Eugene’ he always said. But he underestimated Lord Ravenswood’s dedication to his home and family name. The earl will marry for the sake of Raven’s Hall, and then I shall have my freedom at last.

“And it would not have been possible if I had not brought you to England, my goddess, so you might guide us all. Yes, I am thankful for the sign you bestowed on me. You sent Mihos to direct his lordship to the woman he is destined to wed.

“Never fear, Bastet, I shall do your bidding in this as in all things.” He, and the eye-pin nestled in his turban, gazed into the cat’s unblinking golden eyes. “Lord Ravenswood will marry Miss Daphne Kendall.”

Chapter Two

Daphne walked into the office of Miss Oakswine’s solicitor, Mr. Yarlett, with her lady’s maid, Biggs. Daphne assumed she had been asked to call on him in order to pay Miss Oakswine’s wages, current to the date of her death.

She managed a smile at the clerk behind the counter. “I am Miss Kendall, and I have an appointment to see Mr. Yarlett.”

“Yes, miss. I’ll let him know you’re here,” the young man said, and scrambled away.

Daphne seated herself on a bench and smoothed the folds of her black gown. She had decided two weeks of wearing mourning clothes out of respect for Miss Oakswine would be proper. A nagging guilt that she should have been kinder to the old lady had disturbed her since that fateful night at Astley’s.

She was brought out of these reflections when an elderly man of rotund proportions appeared before her and extended his hand. “Miss Kendall, I am Phineas Yarlett. Thank you for coming.”

“You are most welcome, Mr. Yarlett. I am happy to perform any final duties necessary as Miss Oakswine’s last employer,” Daphne assured him.

Mr. Yarlett was past the age of retirement, and wore the air of one who could no longer be surprised by the actions of his fellow humans. He led her courteously into his office and motioned to a comfortable-looking chair across from his desk.

Daphne declined his offer of tea and noticed a strongbox sat on the desk between them. After Miss Oakswine’s demise, Daphne had been loath to go through her companion’s belongings, a task she had found terribly painful after her parents’ deaths, and so instead had instructed one of the maids to perform the chore. She hoped all of Miss Oakswine’s things were in order.

Mr. Yarlett sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. He eyed her over his spectacles. “Miss Kendall, the matter of Miss Oakswine’s wages is not my uppermost concern. I have, however, prepared an accounting of the wages due,” he said, and passed her some papers.

Daphne folded them and tucked them into her reticule. Her brows came together. “I am afraid I do not understand. If the matter of the wages is not why I have been summoned, then what can I do?”

Mr. Yarlett leaned forward and opened the strongbox. He began lifting items out and spreading them across the desk. Daphne’s eyes widened in shock as she gazed upon the objects.

There was a small miniature of her papa she believed she had carelessly misplaced months ago. Then, a tiny, jewel-encrusted vinaigrette—her mama’s favorite—followed. A silver thimble Mama had given her when, as a child, she had first learned to sew added to the collection. While the items might not hold a large monetary value, they were priceless in Daphne’s heart.

“But, how ... why ... did she take these things from me?” Daphne stammered, unable to comprehend.

Mr. Yarlett heaved a weary sigh. “They were among her possessions. I was correct, then, when I judged these things belonged to you?”

Daphne nodded, totally baffled.

“Miss Kendall, you are young,” Mr. Yarlett said kindly. “When you get to be my age, you will realize there are people in this world who do hurtful things out of petty spite. It appears Miss Oakswine was one of them.”

“I cannot understand, Mr. Yarlett. I thought Miss Oakswine quite comfortable in her circumstances. I cannot imagine what I might have done to so deeply offend her that she would stoop to st-stealing from me ... oh, it is incomprehensible.”

Mr. Yarlett adjusted his spectacles. “People of Miss Oakswine’s ilk need no reason for the things they do other man ones they have contrived in their own heads. However, I fear there is worse.” From the strongbox, he removed a stack of money. “Five thousand pounds. It was found along with this diary.”

Daphne could not suppress a gasp. “That is not my money, I am certain. Although where Miss Oakswine could possibly have obtained such a sum, I cannot imagine.” She raised a hand to her throat as Mr. Yarlett reached into the strongbox once again and pulled out a thick, yellowed journal.

“Well, it seems Miss Oakswine took her sister’s dowry, which was twenty-five hundred pounds, and added it to her own. She apparently had a vehement hatred of men, had no intention of ever marrying, and did not want her sister to marry, either. Not that Miss Oakswine was overly fond of her sister. It seems to have been more a matter of principle. It is all spelled out in her own handwriting in this diary.”

Daphne’s mind struggled to assimilate this startling information. She remembered that Miss Oakswine did indeed find all men dreadful. Many was the time her companion had preached the evils of men to her, and she had often discouraged her from marrying. But for Miss Oakswine to force her views on another by making it difficult, if not impossible, for her very own sister to marry was shocking.

Mr. Yarlett’s face held an expression of concern. “Are you sure you do not want a cup of tea?”

“No, I thank you.” Daphne felt ill from the morning’s revelations and only wanted to return home to try to sort out her feelings. “Whatever happened to Miss Oakswine’s sister? She never mentioned her to me.”

Mr. Yarlett shook his head. “You do not want to know, Miss Kendall.”

“On the contrary, sir, I need to know in order to make sense of all this.” Daphne gazed at him steadily.

Mr. Yarlett seemed to take her measure and gave a brief nod. “According to an entry in the diary about five years ago, the lady took her own life after living as a poor relation in her brother’s house.”

Daphne felt numb. She stared at her lap in silence.

“I shall not keep you, Miss Kendall,” Mr. Yarlett said at length. He wrapped the miniature, the vinaigrette, and the thimble in a cloth, and handed them to her. “I am happy to return your things to you. I have contacted a Mr. Jonas Oakswine, who is Miss Oakswine’s deceased brother’s son and would be her next of kin. Ironic, is it not, that the money will go to a man? I feel sure Miss Oakswine would not approve, but as she died without a will, there is no choice.”

Daphne rose. “Thank you, Mr. Yarlett. I shall settle the matter of the wages tomorrow. Please let me know if there is anything else.”

She walked out of the office in a daze. She managed a weak smile for the benefit of her waiting lady’s maid.

“Is everything all right. Miss Kendall? You look as if you have seen a ghost,” Biggs inquired.

“Well, I have not done anything so nonsensical, Biggs,” Daphne said lightly. “Only let us go home. I confess I am out of frame.”

“Yes, miss.”

They walked out to the street, where Daphne’s carriage awaited. “And, Biggs, I shall lie down for a while, and when I get up, I shall wear the apple-green muslin. You may put away my black dresses.”

Biggs nodded her approval. “Very good, miss.”

* * * *

With Miss Oakswine safely dead, Miss Daphne Kendall was on her own.

It was a circumstance that could not last long if she wanted to be received anywhere in Society. Unmarried females simply did not live alone.

A week after her upsetting visit with Mr. Yarlett, the task of finding a new companion loomed large in Daphne’s mind. She went for a walk in Hyde Park near the Serpentine River to consider her situation. It was early morning, so none of the fashionables were out of their beds yet, much less in the Park.

There was a chill in the air, but the sun shone down on the water. One of her footmen, James, limped along a little behind Daphne. His leg had been injured while he was fighting the French the previous year. He was devoted to his mistress, as she had been the only one to hire a footman with a deformed leg.

The sounds of excited barking broke the quiet of the morning. The three dogs Daphne had acquired since Miss Oak-swine’s death cavorted at her side. Their happiness at being loved and well fed for the first time in their young lives knew no bounds.

“Folly! Come away from the water!” Daphne cried, exasperated. The shaggy brown dog obeyed, but not before scampering through the edge of the river, slipping on a stick, and falling face first into the mud.

James covered a guffaw with a cough.

Daphne sighed. Folly was a bit clumsy, but he would outgrow it. Hopefully.

On the way home from Miss Oakswine’s funeral, which no one other than Daphne had attended, she had rescued Folly from a club-wielding merchant. The man had been angered when the dog had crashed into the merchant’s display of oranges, overturning the fruit into the street, much to the delight of the eager street urchins, who made off with it.

Just now Folly shook himself violently, spraying mud and water.

Far enough away to escape damage to her blue-and-white-striped morning gown, Daphne chuckled at Folly and then gazed down at the sweet-natured black dog that walked serenely at her side. No ill-considered romps for Holly! Her size—she came up to Daphne’s waist when sitting—belied her calm, gentle character.

Up ahead, the third dog, Jolly, raced through the Park. Jolly was white with a few black patches, one at a crazy tilt over his right eye. He was much smaller and chubbier than the other two canines, a fact that did not dim his happy outlook on life. His long pink tongue hung out as he ran to greet an older lady who sat alone on a bench.

Daphne quickened her pace to catch up with the scamp before he frightened the woman. Her concern proved to be unwarranted.

“God-a-mercy! What a delightful doggie! Only mark the imp of mischief behind those eyes. A court jester in a former life, no doubt,” the lady pronounced cheerfully. She leaned forward and stroked Jolly’s head, much to his gratification.

Relieved at not receiving a scold for Jolly’s lack of manners, Daphne overlooked the woman’s odd remark about the dog having a former life. “Oh, Ma’am, I am glad you are not disturbed by him. Jolly can be too lively at times, I fear.” Daphne noticed the way the lady’s gloved fingers rubbed behind Jolly’s ears just the way he liked.

“Too lively? Fudge! Why, he is full of life, as he ought to be,” the lady declared.

Daphne smiled. How pleasant it was to be in the company of someone who appreciated animals as she did. She stared at the woman curiously. Her light brown hair was streaked with gray, and Daphne placed her age past fifty. Wrinkles creased the skin around her eyes, but her complexion was clear and her cheeks a delicate shade of peach. Dressed in a plain gown of a dark blue color, with a shawl that had seen better days, the lady might have been a governess or a genteel lady fallen on hard times.

The woman dropped her hand from Jolly’s head, reached over and gave Holly a thorough pat, and then glanced around the Park a bit nervously.

Discerning her unease, James moved away to stand under a nearby tree.

The woman lowered her voice and confided, “I am Miss Leonie Shelby, lately governess to the Duchess of Welbourne’s two brats.”

Daphne was startled by the lady’s sudden air of subterfuge and at hearing the answers to the very questions which were running around in her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

The woman’s blue eyes twinkled, and Daphne was struck by the kindness they held, a kindness she had not seen in what suddenly seemed like years.

“I suppose I should not have called the children that. But, my dear, the pair of them were horridly dull. I know it is hard to believe that of any child, but they both suffered from an acute lack of imagination. Deplorable!”

Daphne blinked, then nodded her head in what she hoped was an understanding gesture.

Miss Shelby continued, “But I shall have to deal with them no more. The duchess’s scapegrace nephew, Lord Guy, took it upon himself to steal a carved ivory figure of a cat from Her Grace’s extensive ivory collection and foist the blame onto me. Why, I was dismissed without a character—”

Here Miss Shelby interrupted herself anxiously. “Heavens, I am rambling on, and you must only be wishing for a rest. Please sit down, dear child, and bear me company. What is your big black dog’s name?”