Chapter Thirteen

 

The next morning, Daphne awoke rather late. A maid named Sadie brought her chocolate and a roll, then helped her into a jonquil muslin gown, chattering about how brightly the sun was shining after all the rain.

Daphne thanked her, then went down the hall toward Lord Ravenswood’s room. There, she encountered Eugene. “Good morning. How is the earl?” she asked anxiously.

The older man had circles of fatigue under his eyes. “In the night my master was restless, but about an hour ago, the fever broke, and he is asleep.”

Daphne felt her spirits lift. “That is good news, Eugene. I am sure Lord Ravenswood will be grateful for your good care.”

Eugene snorted. “Mrs. Tinkham would not let me near my master! I sat uselessly in a chair at the edge of his bed all night, while she bathed his head and persuaded him to take liquids. She is a managing sort of female.”

Daphne suppressed a chuckle. “Will you try to get some sleep for yourself now that his lordship is out of danger?”

Eugene sighed. “Yes, I must. May I ask you to tell Miss Shelby I will speak with her later today? I would find her myself but—”

“I shall tell her,” Daphne interrupted. “Off with you, and please do not get up until you are refreshed.”

Eugene nodded his thanks and moved away.

Daphne hesitated outside of the earl’s door. For some nonsensical reason she wanted to see for herself that his color had returned to normal and that he rested peacefully.

Chiding herself for being silly, she turned and retraced her steps to her room and took out her cloak. Running lightly downstairs, she found Miss Shelby and gave her Eugene’s message.

“It appears to be a lovely day, Leonie. Such a change from yesterday. I mean to inquire after James and then explore the grounds. Will you come with me?”

“No, dear, you run along,” Miss Shelby said. “I shall pass the time in Lord Ravenswood’s excellent library until I have a chance to speak with Eugene.”

Daphne nodded. She sensed Miss Shelby and Eugene had much to talk about.

* * * *

She was not to know just how many topics were covered when Eugene ran Miss Shelby to earth in the library. It was late in the afternoon. The shadows were growing long and candles had been lit. Miss Shelby sat reading in a comfortable gold-and-white-striped chair in front of the fire.

“Oh, Eugene, here you are at last,” she said, putting aside her book.

The manservant sat down nearby in a matching chair. “I am sorry not to have spoken with you earlier, Leonie. I was awake all night, and after I slept today, I wanted to make sure my master was properly cared for before coming to you.”

“How is Lord Ravenswood?” Miss Shelby asked with concern.

“Much better,” Eugene said. Then he leaned forward. “We do not have much time. I have thought of a plan.”

“Heavens,” Miss Shelby exclaimed, “never say the earl has truly affianced himself to Miss Blenkinsop.”

Eugene smiled with satisfaction. “No, he was to call on her father yesterday morning, but he told me he did not take the time to do so. He rode directly out to find us, as I had intended.”

Eugene explained what had transpired the morning after Miss Shelby’s disappearance and about how he had written a dramatic note to which his master could not help but respond. Miss Shelby clapped her hands with glee over the tale.

“What I am thinking now,” Eugene said, “is that you and I must make an excuse and return to Town, leaving Miss Kendall and Lord Ravenswood here alone. Naturally, once back in London, I shall be certain Miss Blenkinsop learns they are at Raven’s Hall together.”

Miss Shelby nodded eagerly. “Excellent. But what reason shall we give for going back without them? Daphne was saying only last night that she wished to return to Town.”

Eugene thought hard. “It might be best not to tell her we are going. Instead we shall escape and leave a letter telling Miss Kendall we wanted to report the break-in at her town house to the authorities. We believed she would prefer to remain here until Lord Ravenswood is well. It is not much of an excuse, and we shall not be going to the authorities, but it may answer.”

Eugene spent a moment ruefully contemplating the fact that this would be the second time he had left his master. He decided the end justified the means.

He looked up and was startled to see tears glistening in Miss Shelby’s eyes. He reached over and grasped her hand. “What is wrong, wise lady?”

“Oh, Eugene,” Miss Shelby said miserably. “It is my fault that awful man broke into Daphne’s house, and now all of this.” She spread her hands expansively.

Eugene was assailed by a terrible wave of guilt. He gripped the arms of his chair. Leonie thought it was the ivory cat figurine Mr. Phillips sought, when, in fact, it was Bastet.

As he gazed into Leonie’s kind blue eyes, Eugene realized how very much he loved her. Her pain hurt him. He must tell her how he had taken the Bastet statue and why, and pray that the uncommon knowledge and understanding she had always exhibited in the past would serve him now.

“There is something I need to tell you, Leonie.” He drew her over to a sofa and sat close to her while he explained about his quest to be free, about Bastet’s guidance, and about Vincent Phillips’s desire to wrest the statue from him for evil intentions.

Through it all, Miss Shelby listened intently, asking an occasional question and holding Eugene’s hand.

At last, the story complete, Eugene squeezed her hand and said, “So you see, Leonie, I cannot beg you to share my life until I am free of my obligation to Lord Ravenswood, and Bastet is returned to the museum.”

Miss Shelby’s eyes glowed. “Did you say you would want to spend your life with me?”

Eugene nodded. “I love you, my wise lady, and want to protect you always.”

Miss Shelby felt a surge of pure joy. “And I love you, Eugene. But do you only wish to protect me?” she asked coyly.

Eugene’s earnest expression brightened, and his face creased into a sudden smile. “No, Leonie. There is much more.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips tenderly to hers.

* * * *

Daphne knocked on Lord Ravenswood’s door about six o’clock that evening. A maid answered and informed Mrs. Tinkham of her presence.

The housekeeper appeared at the doorway. “Yes, Miss Kendall?”

Daphne wished she could dispel the suspicious look in the woman’s eyes. “I wanted to inquire as to my host’s condition before dinner.”

“He is tolerable. The fever broke this morning, and after he rested I was able to convince him to lake some porridge.”

“Tinky!” Lord Ravenswood called. “Tell this silly maid I may get up. The goose is nigh to tears because I want to leave my bed.”

Mrs. Tinkham whirled around and fled to her patient’s bedside. “I shall do no such thing, Master Anthony. You have a visitor, so I suggest you get back under those bedcovers and make yourself respectable.”

Daphne flushed. She had not thought she would be able to see his lordship at all, much less be given access to his bedchamber. But here was Mrs. Tinkham leading her into the masculine room, muttering, “Take care not to tire him.”

Lord Ravenswood’s dark brows rose when he saw her. He wore a paisley banyan and a frustrated expression. Daphne curtsied. “Good evening, my lord. How are you feeling?”

The earl scowled. “Like the veriest blockhead. I do not know how a little rain could have made me so ill.”

Daphne smiled tentatively, although her heart pounded at the sight of the handsome earl propped in bed. She noticed his complexion no longer looked flushed—in fact, it was paler than usual. “I shall take that to mean you are recovering. When one is strong enough to be grumpy, it is always a good sign.”

Mrs. Tinkham chuckled. “You have the right of it. Miss Kendall.” She sounded almost friendly.

“Am I to be taken to task by the two of you, then?” his lordship asked mockingly.

Daphne found it impossible not to grin. There was something warm and enchanting in his good humor. “I shall not keep you, my lord. I only wanted to inquire as to your progress before going downstairs to dine.”

Lord Ravenswood shot a playfully ferocious took at Mrs. Tinkham but addressed Miss Kendall. “One can only improve so much when one is being starved. I daresay you, Miss Kendall, will be treated to a fine capon or even some roast beef while I am forced to sip thin gruel.”

Mrs. Tinkham twitched the bedclothes into place and began to fuss over her charge’s pillows. “Don’t be ridiculous, Master Anthony. Broth is not gruel, and you are still weak.”

“I ask you, Miss Kendall,” he said with the air of someone done a great injustice, “how is a man supposed to regain his strength on broth? Can I persuade you to have your dinner sent up on a tray so I might at least see food, please?”

Discerning the light of amusement in his lordship’s eyes, Daphne laughed.

“Booberkin,” said the one who had known his lordship from his cradle. Mrs. Tinkham’s sharp gaze went from Lord Ravenswood to Miss Kendall. She seemed to like what she saw. It was past time for Anthony to bring home a bride in the housekeeper’s opinion, and while this Miss Blenkinsop he spoke of earlier sounded biddable, Mrs. Tinkham shrewdly judged the girl would never make Anthony happy. “I’ll have Byron set up a table by the fire, and you two can eat there.”

Before anyone could respond to this statement, Mrs. Tinkham sped from the room, leaving Sadie in attendance for propriety.

Daphne felt uneasy at the thought of taking her dinner with the earl under these circumstances. “My lord, I never meant to intrude on your peace this way. I shall go and tell Mrs. Tinkham that I shall dine downstairs.”

Lord Ravenswood leaned forward and caught her hand. “Are you joking, Miss Kendall? Without you, I would not be getting a meal, and I confess I am weak as a kitten. You would be doing me a great favor to remain.”

Daphne withdrew her hand from his. It trembled from his touch, and she reminded herself sternly that the earl had no romantic interest in her. Still, she supposed there was no harm in sharing a meal with him. “Very well. I shall stay.”

Soon enough they found themselves comfortably seated by the fire at a table laden with chicken, vegetables, bread, and wine. Their main topic of conversation was Raven’s Hall.

“I very much enjoyed wandering the grounds today, my lord. The gardens are especially beautiful.”

Anthony sipped his wine. “Thank you. Capability Brown is the artist who designed them. He had definite ideas as to how nature should look.”

Daphne pulled apart a piece of bread. “I noticed there are few horses in the stables, other than workhorses, that is.”

“True. One of my tasks before I can finally return home is to replenish the stables. Tattersall’s ring is the only place to find good horseflesh.”

Anthony laid down the fork. His voice grew sad as he reflected on the past. “You met Isabella, Miss Kendall. The woman did a thorough job of ruining the estate with her willful, selfish spending. My father indulged her to the bitter end, and yet she left him.

“After he died and I returned, it made me ill to see what had become of my home. The gardens and hedges were wild and overgrown. The tenants lived in poverty, and their houses barely stood upright. All the farm buildings were dilapidated, for the estate had been badly managed for years. And that fact, combined with Isabella’s constant draining of its funds, brought a once rich property to its knees. Initially I had to sell off the horses and many of the furnishings to keep things going until I began making money in Egypt.”

Daphne was thoughtful. “How terrible for you to have to take on the responsibility of restoring the estate. It must have been a daunting proposition, indeed. I admire the way you obviously prevailed. Raven’s Hall is a place of great beauty and peace and prosperity.”

Anthony studied Daphne carefully. Her words, her tone of voice, and her expression appeared to reflect her honest opinion. “Those are the very qualities that I have been striving for, Miss Kendall. Keeping the estate in good heart is an everlasting job. Unlike my father, I shall not allow any intelligent schemer—no matter how pretty a face she possesses—to destroy Raven’s Hall in my lifetime.”

At these words something clicked in Daphne’s mind. She suddenly felt the need to be alone with her thoughts.

She placed her napkin on the table, and rose. “My lord, you must forgive me for keeping you from your rest. I fear Mrs. Tinkham will give me a scold should you suffer a relapse.”

Anthony stood as well and gazed at her steadily. “On the contrary, Miss Kendall. The meal and your company have revived my strength. I believe that in a day or so more I shall be ready to return to Town. May I beg your indulgence until then?”

Daphne wanted to tell him she would stay with him forever. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and yearned to be his partner in life, in love, in caring for this marvelous house and its grounds and people. “The day after tomorrow will suit me fine, my lord.”

She curtsied to him and nodded to Sadie, then quit the room. Anthony sank back down in his chair and stared into the fire for a long time after she left.

Daphne sought her bedchamber. Gaining that room, she crossed to the window and drew the curtains back to gaze out into the darkness.

His lordship’s words regarding his stepmother and Raven’s Hall had been an awakening experience that left her reeling. His family’s ordeal with Isabella had obviously left Lord Ravenswood suspicious when it came to women, hence his pursuit of a quiet, compliant bride and his subsequent choice of Elfleta Blenkinsop.

But what of love? Was the earl prepared to sacrifice love and instead choose a tediously submissive woman because he feared any lady of intelligence and spirit might turn out to be another Isabella?

But he had it all wrong. A lady who loved him would cringe from deception. Was he not putting himself more at risk by not choosing to make a love match?

Daphne sighed and let the curtain fall. Though this new insight helped her understand Lord Ravenswood better, it did not change anything. The earl had set his course and offered for Miss Blenkinsop. It seemed no amount of love or understanding on her part could change that fact.

She must begin distancing herself from him. She would begin tomorrow. If only she had not agreed to stay another day.

* * * *

The next morning Daphne ate a hurried breakfast brought to her room on a tray. Her willow-green muslin gown had been cleaned and pressed while she slept, and she scrambled into it with Sadie’s help.

When she was ready, and without even stopping at Miss Shelby’s door to say good morning to that lady, Daphne went down to the kitchen. She begged the startled cook for some bread and cheese, for she planned on spending the day outdoors. Avoiding the earl might be cowardly, but Daphne felt quite desperate. She could not endure another cozy meal with the gentleman she loved while the specter of his engagement to another hung over her head.

A few minutes later she was armed with a basket that contained enough food to keep her from starvation for several days. Daphne stepped outside into the sunshine and began walking to the far side of the estate.

Having spent a restless morning in bed, Anthony felt well enough to dress by mid-afternoon. However, struggling into an acorn-brown coat and leather breeches, even with the aid of a footman, the earl felt drained of energy.

He no sooner sat down in a high-backed chair by the fire resting when Mrs. Tinkham bustled in. “Master Anthony, what have you done?”

“Merely gotten dressed, Tinky, nothing worthy of your censure,” Lord Ravenswood teased.

Little Mrs. Tinkham stood before him with her hands on her hips. “I shan’t allow pretty Miss Kendall to visit you today if you don’t take care of yourself properly.”

Anthony raised a brow at her. “How do you propose to keep me from her?”

Since this was exactly the direction Mrs. Tinkham wished the conversation to take, she sat down in the chair opposite him. “I am glad to hear you are adamant about seeing her.”

Realizing his foolishness, the earl heaved a sigh. “Begad! I suppose it is too late now to claim I am in a devilish bad condition after all, and must be left in total quiet.”

“What you are suffering from most is a want of sense, Master Anthony, and that’s plain enough,” Mrs. Tinkham said. She folded her hands in her lap. “Now, tell me why you are prepared to offer for Miss Blenkinsop when you really want Miss Kendall.”

Anthony looked mulish, then remembered how long Tinky had been at Raven’s Hall. “Miss Blenkinsop is, well, not particularly strong-minded. She will be a compliant wife.”

Mrs. Tinkham’s mouth fell open. “Is that what she has to offer?”

“Well, yes. But she is from good family and has a large dowry as well,” Anthony said, feeling very much on the defensive. “We do not wish for another Isabella here, do we?”

Mrs. Tinkham was much struck by this statement. She remained silent for a moment, then leaned forward in her chair. “Master Anthony, Miss Kendall is nothing at all like Isabella.”

“She is intelligent, Tinky, just like my stepmother. Clever women are dangerous.” Even as he said the oft repeated words, the theory rang hollow in his own ears.

“Stuff!” the housekeeper said roundly. “’Tis a lady’s character that you must look to in order to judge whether she is capable of the kind of behavior Isabella displayed. From what I have seen, Miss Kendall is a lady; she is kind to all, and caring. Look how concerned she was for that heathen manservant of yours! Besides which, you love her, do you not?”

Lord Ravenswood made as if to protest, but found he could not. It was true. He loved Daphne Kendall. Good God. He raised a hand and rubbed it across his forehead. “You have figured out a lot in a short period of time, Tinky.”

Mrs. Tinkham seized the advantage. “Well, I’ve known you all your life, haven’t I? And even though I don’t know Miss Kendall very well, I know a girl in love when I see one.”

Lord Ravenswood snapped to attention at these words. He remembered how Daphne had responded to his kiss at the Pelhams’ ball. She was not the type to respond to his passion unless her affections were engaged. Why, now that he thought about it, the sort of grasping he most feared was as foreign to her nature as caviar to pigs!

He rose to stand firmly on his feet. “Where is Miss Kendall

“Cook says she has gone outdoors. Now, Master Anthony, just because you have finally come to your senses does not mean you should wander the estate looking for her in your condition!”

Lord Ravenswood flashed her a boyish grin, just before closing the door behind him.

* * * *

It was easy enough for Eugene and Miss Shelby to slip away from Raven’s Hall without anyone being the wiser. They hired a vehicle and reached London late that afternoon.

“I shall start the rumors going about Lord Ravenswood and Miss Kendall. The underbutler next door is the neighborhood gossip.” Eugene told Miss Shelby outside of Daphne’s town house in Clarges Street. “Wait for me here, and I shall call on you later and apprise you of any developments.”

Miss Shelby clung to the sleeve of his white tunic. “Oh, Eugene, I do hope we have done right in leaving them in the country alone.”

“They are hardly alone with that dragon, Mrs. Tinkham,” he said dryly. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it warmly. “Soon, Leonie, soon, we shall be together. Would you like to see Egypt?”

Miss Shelby smiled, then chuckled outright. “Oh, yes, Eugene. You know I long for travel. Remember Mary Tucker told me I would soon be going on a sea journey.”

“She is knowing, but not like you, my wise lady,” Eugene told her, and then took his leave.

Miss Shelby let herself into the back of the house and was promptly greeted by three exuberant dogs. She patted them each in turn, asking, “How would you like to live with Daphne and Lord Ravenswood in the country?”

* * * *

Lord Ravenswood felt tired and hungry. He had spent two hours riding about the estate, looking for Miss Kendall without success. Coming up to the Palladian-style bridge, which spanned a wide stream, he dismounted. After leaving his horse to graze, he stretched out under a leafy tree at the water’s edge and allowed the gentle sound of the stream to lull him to sleep.

That is how Daphne found him an hour later.

Strolling across the bridge, she saw his supine figure and let out a cry of distress. Thinking he had collapsed, she rushed across the bridge and dropped down to his side on the grass. Her heart jumped in her chest. She reached out a hand and felt of his forehead. Thankfully it was cool.

“My lord, can you hear me? Are you all right?” she asked urgently.

For an answer Lord Ravenswood slowly opened his brown eyes and gazed into her anxious face. Then he leaned forward and swiftly caught her in his arms. He lowered his head and kissed her, his mouth moving over hers and devouring its softness.

Caught off guard, Daphne returned his embrace, giving herself freely to the passion of his kiss.

Then, despite the intensity of desire, Daphne suddenly remembered Lord Ravenswood was engaged to Miss Blenkinsop. She wrenched herself away from him and sprang to her feet.

“How dare you, my lord?” she demanded. Fearing she might at any moment burst into tears, she turned and began a swift march across the bridge.

He caught up with her before she made it halfway across. “Daphne! Please! Wait a moment.”

She continued on her way, so he darted in front of her and grasped her by the shoulders. “Daphne, I beg your pardon. You see, I have been out searching for you all day, and I grew so tired that I had to stop and rest. When I woke and saw your dear face above me, well, I could not restrain myself. I admit you had reason to think me perfectly mad.”

Daphne lowered her gaze in confusion. She had to calm her disordered thoughts and could not do so with him looking at her with that gentle, concerned, loving expression. In her confusion, she found refuge in righteous anger. “Mad, my lord? No, I think playing fast and loose with my affections would be a more accurate description.”

“Whatever can you mean?” he asked at once.

“You are betrothed to Elfleta Blenkinsop! And yet you embrace me, kiss me—”

He gripped her shoulders more tightly. “I am not engaged to Miss Blenkinsop. How could you think—Eugene! I shall strangle him,” he pronounced grimly, his arms falling to his sides.

Daphne wondered if she should feel some guilt for the relief she felt. “You are not betrothed?”

The earl ran a hand impatiently through his dark hair. “No. In truth, I was going to offer for the chit Tuesday morning. Then I received a letter from Eugene—maybe I will not strangle him after all—saying that you were in danger. I rode out to find you instead of going to her house.”

One dark red curl lay across the whiteness of her shoulder. He picked up the tempting spiral and idly drew it between his fingers. “I have been a fool, Daphne.”

“How do you mean, Anthony?” she asked him softly. A bright spot of hope began to grow in her.

His brown eyes sought hers. “When Mihos first came to live with me, every time he stretched out his paw to my chin in a gesture of affection, I thought he was going to rip my nose off. I based this assumption on the way Isabella’s cat, Brutus, had behaved. When I met you and saw how attractive and intelligent you were, I did not want to care for you, fearing you would use those qualities against me, the way Isabella did with my father.”

Daphne laid a hand against his cheek. “What made you realize I would not?”

“You are not at all like Isabella.” The earl swallowed hard. “You care more for people than things, and you are never cruel. And, while my father loved Isabella, she did not return his passion. You do love me, do you not, my heart? For I love you madly.”

A smile of pure joy lit Daphne’s face. “Yes, Anthony, I love you.”

Then she was in his arms. His kiss sent swirling bursts of ecstasy coursing through her. She felt as if she could not get close enough to him, and savored every moment his mouth was on hers.

Several minutes later he reluctantly drew away and asked, “Why did you send Mihos back to me? I thought we had agreed you were to keep him for some time longer?”

Her fingers stroked his hair. “I thought you were going to marry Elfleta.”

He pulled her against him and whispered into her hair. “You are the only lady I shall ever marry, my heart. I love you. Will you have me?”

Daphne looked at him and pretended to consider. “I do not know. Do you think Mihos will get along with Holly, Folly, and Jolly?” Her teasing look was unmistakable.

“God help us,” the earl muttered, before he claimed her lips again.

* * * *

Because of Mihos, Elfleta Blenkinsop never received Lord Ravenswood’s note telling her he had been called out of Town on an urgent matter.

Therefore on this, the second day after the earl was to call, Elfleta sat in her drawing room. She was beside herself with fury. How dare he treat her thus?

Also in the room, Mrs. Blenkinsop had alternately questioned and berated her daughter regarding the entire affair, making Elfleta even angrier.

The knocker sounded and a few minutes later, the butler ushered Lord Guy into the room. He was full of the gossip Eugene had spread all about Lord Ravenswood and Miss Kendall being alone together at the earl’s estate. Lord Guy prayed he would be the first to relate it to the Blenkinsops. He got his wish.

“What’s that you say?” Mrs. Blenkinsop shrieked upon hearing the account.

Elfleta gasped, shaken by the strongest emotion ever felt in her young life.

Lord Guy was all apologies. “Dear me, I thought you ladies would know. His lordship’s behavior is disgraceful, Miss Blenkinsop. Disgraceful! Your goodness has been sorely used.”

Elfleta called up the few brain cells at her command and thought furiously. Despite the fact that the earl had not formally made her an offer, she had been too puffed up with conceit to keep quiet about her expectations. Several members of the ton were made privy to the knowledge that she was shortly to announce her engagement.

Elfleta needed a fiancé. Fast.

She turned her hazel eyes toward Lord Guy and allowed a few graceful tears to fall.

Happy for the chance to play at being the gallant, Lord Guy whipped a lace handkerchief from the pocket of his celestial blue coat and handed it to her with a flourish. “Were you mine, I would never treat you thus.”

“You would not?” Elfleta asked him tearfully. She gazed up at him adoringly, her hazel eyes huge in her face.

“Never!” Lord Guy cried, throwing himself into his role for all he was worth. “Only give me a chance to prove myself.”

“Yes, oh, yes, I shall marry you,” Elfleta breathed.

Lord Guy’s eyes popped in his head. Before he could absorb what had happened, Mrs. Blenkinsop was wishing the couple happy and calling her reluctant husband into the room to join in the congratulations.

When Mr. Blenkinsop hinted at the size of his Elf’s dowry, Lord Guy began to relax. The happy thought of all that money soon had him envisioning a new wardrobe full of coats in every shade imaginable. Tailors from Hyde Park to Charing Cross would be begging for his custom.

Lord Guy would not have been so sanguine had he known his future mama-in-law was even now casting a stern eye over his dress. She determined on the spot to educate him as to the proper way a gentleman should present himself to the world.

* * * *

Wedding plans were the last thing on one lady’s mind. Miss Shelby sat in the drawing room of Daphne’s town house and worried about Eugene’s safety. Something told her Mr. Phillips might easily have learned where Eugene lived and would break into Lord Ravenswood’s house. What might happen if he did not find the Bastet statue? Would he lie in wait for Eugene?

As the minutes ticked by, Miss Shelby’s premonition of danger grew stronger. Coming to a decision not to wait for Eugene, she placed a shawl about her shoulders and hurried downstairs. With a footman, Charles, to accompany her, and Folly for extra protection, she ventured out into the dark streets.

Halfway to Upper Brook Street, she encountered Eugene headed in the same direction. Folly barked a greeting.

“Leonie, what are you doing out? It is not safe,” Eugene said.

Miss Shelby wrapped her shawl tighter about her shoulders. “I had a bad feeling.”

Eugene touched a finger to his eye-pin. Then he looked at her. “You must go home. I shall take care of this—”

“No, Eugene! Charles and Folly and I will come with you. I insist!”

Seeing she could not be swayed, Eugene reluctantly agreed.

They hurried through the dark streets. When the earl’s town house came into view, Folly broke away from them and ran toward the back of the house. Miss Shelby and Eugene looked at each other, then followed him. After they rounded the corner, a startling sight, and still more startling sounds, brought them to a standstill.

Vincent Phillips clung to the ledge of an open window on the second floor, his beaver-trimmed greatcoat ballooning out around him. Mihos perched in the window frame, roaring at the intruder.

While they watched, Vincent held on with one hand and tried to push the cat out of the way with the other. In a lightning-fast motion, sharp claws ripped through the flesh of the hand clutching the ledge.

Giving a loud cry, Vincent fell to the ground heavily, clutching his injured foot. Folly raced to the spot and commenced a furious barking and showing of teeth.

Miss Shelby found her voice. “Run for the watch, Charles.”

“You!” Vincent shouted at Eugene. “I’ll get the Bastet statue from you yet!”

Miss Shelby quieted Folly, who continued to hover menacingly over the thief.

“No you will not,” Eugene said calmly, moving to stand guard over Vincent’s supine body. “Bastet represents the beneficent powers of the sun and is the goddess of joy. She will not be used for evil.”

Two enforcers of the law came at a run around the corner. “What have we got here?” one man asked.

“A common housebreaker,” Eugene replied.

At that moment Folly’s fondness for beaver apparently overcame his scruples and Miss Shelby’s training. The dog lunged for the pocket of Vincent’s greatcoat, which was trimmed in his favorite fur.

The material ripped, and out fell the ivory cat figurine Vincent had stashed there, planning to foist it off on a sailor for cash on his way to Philadelphia.

Miss Shelby gasped in recognition. “That belongs to the Duchess of Welbourne!”

“Caught with stolen property, eh?” one of the watchmen said.

“Yes,” Miss Shelby promptly replied. “And this is the Earl of Ravenswood’s town house the man was trying to break into.”

“Off to the roundhouse he goes, then.” The two men carried a protesting Vincent away, saying they would call on the earl tomorrow for a statement.

Miss Shelby patted Folly’s head. “What a good dog. You have redeemed yourself.” Folly favored her with a wide doggie grin and wagged his tail.

Eugene looked up to the open window, where Mihos had all the while been watching the proceedings. “Good work, little tiger.” Mihos turned to the delicate business of washing his paws and paid no further attention.

Eugene placed an arm about Miss Shelby’s shoulder. “Come, it is time I walk you home.”

* * * *

Hours later Eugene stood alone in a darkened room. At the far end of the chamber, a light began to glow. Soon the ebony body of a woman with a cat’s head came into view. She sat upon an intricately carved golden throne with many live cats sitting at her feet.

“You have done your duty, Eugene,” she said. Her voice seemed to come to him from a great distance. “I am pleased.”

Eugene dropped down to his knees in front of her. “My goddess, I am ever grateful for your benevolence.”

Bastet raised a hand. Cupped inside her palm was an eye-pin similar to the one Eugene wore in his turban. The pin seemed to catch the light and reflect it toward Eugene’s pin until a single beam formed between them. Eugene remained motionless.

Bastet spoke again. “You are free now, Eugene. Free.”

“Grraow!”

Eugene sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding in his chest. Mihos stood on the bed next to him.

It had been a dream, Eugene thought. Only a dream.

Or had it?

Eugene threw off the bedclothes and rushed to the armoire. Before going to bed, he had made sure the Bastet statue was safe in its hiding place. His hands brushed aside the clothes inside, and he looked down.

The folds of burgundy velvet lay empty on the bottom of the armoire. Eugene slowly reached for them and held the soft material in his hands.

Having served her purpose, Bastet was gone.

Eugene sank to his knees, tears of happiness running down his cheeks.