Patrica Rice (21 page)

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The soldiers in the tavern below grinned and nudged each other when the Viscount Griffin arrived escorting a slightly sodden pony cart driven by a lady in silken bonnet and voluminous pelisse. Evidently the lady had reclaimed her cart, for her horse was tied on behind, and the incongruous sight of a thoroughbred trailing a cart pulled by a misbred pony tickled their fancies.

Captain Rollings strolled out to greet the pair, but the lady hurried for the stairs clutching her pelisse closely around her, before he could offer a good day. Griffin stopped to give him a word before swiftly following. Rollings contemplated offering to escort the fallen maid out of town rather than let Miss Templeton suffer the embarrassment, but Miss Templeton had struck him as a rather obstinate-minded young lady. If she had taken a notion to chastise the maid herself, or save her from her wanton ways, he wanted no part of it.

When the aristocratic viscount and Miss Templeton returned downstairs, trailing the brightly smiling maid behind them, Rollings lifted a questioning eyebrow. This time, Miss Templeton saw him. Fastening the silken pelisse, she stopped while the top-hatted viscount escorted the maid to the cart.

“Good day, Captain. I hope you are well. Have you seen Miss Dalrymple lately? I have been meaning to stop in and say hello, but the rains have been dreadful.”

“Miss Dalrymple has been bemoaning that fact. Do you mind my curiosity in asking why you have come to fetch a maid who obviously shows no remorse for running off?”

Daphne shrugged. “Aunt Agatha is very fond of her and believes she has learned her lesson. I trust you and your men will not speak of this to anyone. The fellow has promised to marry her, so I can only do what is best for her under the circumstances.”

The old rogue his man had described last night scarcely sounded the best kind of husband, but the maid seemed satisfied. Miss Templeton probably had the right of it. It was one way of ridding herself of a troublesome wench. The captain made a polite bow. “Many would not be so kind. Your generosity is to be applauded.”

Daphne smiled and offered her hand in farewell, then tripped lightly into the overcast day where her escort waited on his stallion and her maid sat, giggling, in the cart.

Some while later, a soldier making use of the necessary behind the inn noticed a gentleman striding through the kitchen garden toward the stables. The man wore the same beaver hat and elegantly fitted navy frock coat as the viscount had earlier, and the soldier scratched his head in puzzlement.

Returning to the tavern, he mentioned the viscount’s appearance and inquired the reason for his return. Captain Rollings heard the inquiry and slowly came to his feet, wearing a troubled expression. With a curt word, he sent a man upstairs to check on the prospective ‘bridegroom,’ then he turned in the direction of the stables.

The viscount was leading out a suspiciously familiar bay mare when the good captain intercepted his path. Griffin halted at the man’s approach, patting the mare as he waited.

“You seem in a hurry, Rollings. Is there something I can do for you?” The viscount’s good-natured drawl seemed unhurried and relaxed as the officer stopped in front of him.

“Is that not Miss Templeton’s mare you have there?” Perplexed, Rollings watched the viscount’s expression carefully. The young nobleman seemed truly unaware that he was doing anything unusual in returning to the inn so shortly after he had left it in the company of two women.

“Mine, actually. I gave Miss Templeton the use of her when she arrived. Lady Agatha’s stables are rather on the dull side. Did you have some interest in her?’’

Gordon played the game with good cheer, easily reading the captain’s suspicions from years of experience. He was only grateful that Evan had had time to disappear down the river path on foot after returning the mare to the stable in the guise of viscount. He should be well on his way back to the lane and the waiting stallion by now.

The captain had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.  “No, it seemed odd you just returned after leaving with Miss Templeton. Was there some trouble?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. The mare seems to have loosened a shoe. Miss Templeton insisted that I return to have it looked at. Actually, I rather think she meant to give her maid a good scold before returning to Lady Agatha’s and thought the shoe a good excuse to be rid of me. Old Abe says the mare is fine.”

Something was not quite right here, but Rollings couldn’t put his finger on it. There was nothing he could do, however, and he let the viscount go on. Not until his man came down to report the ‘bridegroom’ had disappeared did Rollings curse and swear and stare at the empty road. He didn’t know how they had done it, but he knew he’d been had.

Some miles away, a tense trio drew within sight of the tree-lined drive to the Griffin estate. Rather, a tense duo, for Marie thought the adventure a great lark and laughed and chattered the whole way.

Daphne sent the maid a look of irritation, but her grip on the reins relaxed as they halted on the ridge overlooking the estate. Cautiously, she watched Evan’s proud back garbed in the same navy as his brother as he halted his mount to overlook his home.

“Will you go in? Or must you continue this silly charade a little longer?” Unable to bear the silence, Daphne voiced the most important question on her mind.

Steeling himself for the inevitable confrontation, Evan edged his horse down the road. “I’ll not leave you to face the consequences alone. Gordon said he took Lady Agatha to meet with Grandfather. We’ll go there.”

Daphne felt a shiver of apprehension at the implacability in his voice. She was beginning to understand that Evan abided by a very rigid sense of duty that allowed him to overlook any number of relative trivialities, such as the law and people’s feelings. She supposed a man could have worse flaws, but this one could be very uncomfortable to live with. She sent him a surreptitious look, but all she could see was the breadth of his back as be approached his home. She found it difficult to believe this was the same man who had held her and kissed her not more than a few hours ago.

The butler who opened the door stared at the man assisting the lady from the cart. Everyone in the kitchen knew the viscount had gone in search of the missing lady, and here he was returned all right and proper with the lady and her maid unharmed.

But it wasn’t the same man who had left earlier this morning. Lord Griffin never wore his hair in such an abominable manner, and his complexion was of a gentlemanly fairness, not this weathered color of a gypsy. Lines of suffering pulled at the corners of this man’s mouth, but lines of laughter etched his eyes. It did not seem possible. It could not be.

The servant stared as the lady took the gentleman’s arm and traversed the steps. A never-to-be-forgotten wink of the gentleman’s eye sent the butler’s spirits soaring, and a grin broke out on his solemn countenance.

“Master Evan! It is you! May God preserve us and welcome home, sir!”

The smile forming on the gentleman’s lips transformed his face to the youthful merriment of years ago. Daphne clung to Evan’s arm in astonishment as the staid butler beamed and spouted more words than she had heard from him in a month. She couldn’t help noticing Evan’s lighter step as he entered his boyhood home and gazed around.

“Nothing’s changed, Emery. I suppose there are still kittens in the coal scuttle and tarts in the pantry?”

“They’re old enough to scamper about the kitchen, sir. It’s time they go to the barns. And Cook just took them out of the oven. Shall I bring you some in the drawing room?”

Dazed, Daphne wondered if the tarts were going to the barn or the kittens to the drawing room, but Evan seemed to understand. He chuckled and nodded and clasped his fingers warmly over her arm.

“You had best show us to the earl and Lady Agatha, Emery. Then bring the tarts. We’ve neither of us broke our fast
,
and it’s deuced difficult to be scolded on an empty stomach.”

The servant grew solemn, aware from years of such confrontations that the young master was in the briars again. The explanation of his appearance months after his funeral would somehow filter down to the staff sooner or later. Properly trained, Emery turned and led the way to the formal salon where the earl paced and Lady Agatha worked sedately at her embroidery.

Both older people glanced up as the young couple entered. Lady Agatha gave a cry of relief and rose to embrace her niece before stopping and staring, puzzled, at Daphne’s escort. The earl scowled, took a step forward, then glancing closer at Evan’s face, gave a curse that reddened Daphne’s ears.

Evan forced a smile to his lips as he released Daphne to her aunt and made a polite bow. “It is always good to be welcomed home, sir, although you could have saved your exuberance until the ladies were out of hearing.”

“I ought to box your impertinent ears,” the earl growled, taking another step forward as if to carry out his threat.

“Shelce!” Agatha interposed with a warning, clasping Daphne’s arm and preventing her niece from rushing back to the young man’s side.

To the surprise of both women, the men held out their hands and shook warmly, Evan wincing at the older man’s rigorous tug on his injured arm.

“Damned pup, I’ll wring your neck this time.” The earl still spoke harshly, but there was a hint of some softer emotion behind his words. “Where’s that other young rascal? I warrant I’ll do more than ring a peal over his ears. It’s inexcusable for my heir to behave like this at his age. The pair of you deserve a caning, always did. I’ll have my explanations now, boy, and they had better be good ones or you’ll be out on your ear in a trice.”

Evan sent a glance to Daphne and her aunt, then shook his head. “We had best wait until Gordon returns. It might be best if I saw the ladies home, first.”

Lady Agatha straightened to her full height. “If that is you, Evan Griffin, I’ll not be shunted off like some ailing caper-wit. I’ve watched your mischief from afar for years, but now you’ve involved my niece, I’ll know the meaning of this one.”

Before the argument could continue, a slight figure in sprigged muslin careened into the room, hesitating only briefly before flinging herself into Evan’s arms.

“Damn you for a lying rogue, Evan Griffin! You ruined my come-out for naught and I shall kill you for this! To imagine the servants must tell me of your arrival!”

Evan’s dark features puckered with laughter as he gathered his suddenly grown-up little sister into his arms to prevent her flailing fists from causing grave injury. “Whoa, twirp! Do I deserve no last words before you lay me out?”

That laughing question cut too close to the core and resulted in a sudden wail as Melanie fell, sobbing, against his shoulder. Evan paled and threw Daphne a pleading look. She did not need further explanation.

Releasing herself from her aunt’s hold, Daphne gently took Melanie by the arm and disentangled her from her brother’s embrace. “Go see what is keeping the tea from being served. Evan is still weak and in need of nourishment,” she whispered as she led the younger girl away.

Melanie’s sobs dwindled to a sniffle, and she did as told. When Daphne turned back to the room, both men were staring at her as if amazed by the miracle she had wrought. She gratefully retreated to the nearest chair to ease the weight from her aching limb. Adventures might be wildly exciting, but they were a trifle hard on a person.

“I have never seen a watering pot turned off faster,” Evan marveled. Without conscious thought, he stood next to Daphne’s chair, catching himself only when he lifted his hand to touch her hair.

Knowing the mistake such a possessive gesture would be, he hurriedly rested his hand on the chair back and leaned against it for support. This interview would be more trying than he had imagined.

“You’re injured!” Agatha exclaimed. “You poor boy, sit down! Wherever could those servants be? Daphne, did you send Miss Griffin to find them? Perhaps, Shelce, you should offer him a little brandy?”

By the time the tea tray arrived, Agatha had whipped her troops in line. Evan sat in a chair beside Daphne, and the earl presided over a decanter of brandy. Melanie was ordered to serve as soon as she returned, and a rather stilted tea party was in progress when Gordon finally burst through the drawing room doors.

Chapter Sixteen

The normally sedate viscount appeared rattled as he came upon the tea party. Ready for battle, he found it difficult to rearrange his rampaging emotions. Sending his errant brother a glaring look, he refused Melanie’s offer of a cup but accepted the brandy from his grandfather.

The earl watched in amazement as his heir swallowed the strong liquor without flinching. “It is morning yet, as I recollect. Are you in the habit of imbibing heavily before noon?”

Gordon grimaced and set the glass aside. “Only when my twin arises from the dead. I wish to speak to the two of you when you have finished your repast. I’ll be waiting in my study. I don’t believe I make pleasant company at the moment.”

As Gordon started to leave, Melanie gave a shocked cry and glanced from brother to brother with a worried frown. Daphne struggled for some way to ease the situation, but not at all certain that she understood the argument, she felt helpless. She wanted to rise and go to Gordon and reassure him, but he must certainly think her a fallen woman. She was not certain she could bear his scorn.

Instead, she set her cup aside and offered, “I think it best if I return to my aunt’s and finish packing. Melanie, perhaps you ought to go upstairs and do the same.”

Having no idea that her friend had been caught out all night and wishing only to hear how Evan had returned from the dead, Melanie appeared prepared to protest. Rising at the same time as Daphne, Evan confirmed her suggestions.

“There are urgent matters Grandfather and Gordon and I must discuss, brat. You’ll be duly informed of my misdeeds later, I promise. Now be gone with you.”

Daphne felt his hand briefly brush hers as he left to follow Gordon. She disliked leaving him here to fight the battle alone. She looked to Aunt Agatha for support, but the old lady seemed to be enjoying herself hugely, without any notion of removing herself from the family squabble. Unable to order her elder around, Daphne took herself to the door, with Melanie trailing behind.