Page 57 of Only a Mistress Will Do

Dora’s raised voice finally penetrated his reverie. Focusing on her once again, he found her staring at him oddly.

Mr. Blake glanced from her to him with raised eyebrow.

Damn. He refused to let his lack of self-control hurt his future wife. She deserved better than that. Better than him. “My pardon, Miss Harper, Mr. Blake. I was woolgathering, I fear. Are you ready to go, my dear?”

Giving him a wary look, she nodded slowly.

He tossed her up onto Gretchen again, and swiftly mounted Rufus.

Mr. Blake eased himself down out of the seat and slowly tethered his pony. He called to Jasper, who bounded to his side, wide doggy smile and wagging tail declaring his happiness. Blake raised a hand in farewell, then picked his way carefully into Mrs. Pierce’s establishment.

“Shall we head home for tea?” Tris gathered his reins then turned to Dora.

The wide smile and animated face had gone, leaving in its place the thin-lipped woman of the morning. She wanted to return to Harper’s Grange about as much as she wanted to shoot Jasper. Well, she wouldn’t have to live there much longer. He would take her away from her awful family as soon as he possibly could. If he couldn’t love her, he could at least do that for her.

By the time they arrived at the front of the manor, the light had faded from the western sky, leaving it deep lavender tinged with a pink edge where the sky kissed the earth. Tris hoped Lord Downing hadn’t sent out a search party for them. The closer they had gotten to the house, the more Dora had withdrawn from his attempts at conversation. A scolding from her father might finish the job, leaving her sullen and silent for the rest of the night. They dismounted at the portico and he grasped her hand to tuck it in his arm. The chill that emanated from her body made him shiver.

“My dear, you are frozen.” He chaffed her hand, willing the stiff fingers inside her gloves to warm. “Come, we must get you inside and before the fire.”

“Oh, no, my lord. I will go directly to my room. Larkin will see to me.” She clutched his arm.

“You don’t think you should see your parents first? We are so late they may be quite worried.” Staving off possible protest, he rapped on the door and when it opened, strode in before the butler could swing it wide. “Where are the family currently, Eccles?”

“In the large drawing room, my lord.” Eccles shut the door and indicated the stairs to the first floor.

Tris flowed forward, bringing a now shivering Dora along with him. They’d shed their outerwear in the foyer and the house was quite cool. He hoped they had a good fire going. They both needed to thaw out. He squeezed Dora’s hand. “It will be fine. I insist on taking all the blame on myself.” He searched her pale face, noting feverish pink splotches. “I only pray you have not taken a chill. I could never forgive myself if I have been an agent to harm you in any way.”

She smiled at that, though it paled in comparison to her earlier brilliance.

He steered her into the drawing room they had occupied last night, braced for the explosion. Tension in the room pricked the hairs on the back of his neck immediately. There seemed to be half a dozen people present, although in truth there were only three.

Lord Downing, Lady Downing, and Simon Harper clustered around the sideboard. The men held full glasses of port; Lady Downing looked longingly at the decanter while sipping her tea.

“That’s the second one in three months, Simon.” Lord Downing’s florid face deepened as his eyes bulged. “I’ll not stand for this kind of behavior anymore.”

“Dora, where have you been?” Setting her cup down, Lady Downing rushed to her daughter. “We were quite worried.” She cut her gaze toward her husband.

“We stayed overlong in the village, Mama,” Dora said, making a beeline for the fireplace.

“That is no excuse for putting the household in an uproar.” Her father glared at her, then emptied his glass. “What were you doing in the village?”

“She was showing me all about the estate, my lord,” Tris answered smoothly in her stead, following her to the fire. This was one damsel he’d be able to rescue. “I must take the blame for our late appearance. I’m afraid we tarried eating Mrs. Pierce’s excellent bannocks. We were also chatting with many of your tenants and cottagers.” He eyed Downing, gauging the depth of the man’s ire. It might be his own perception, but the man seemed more on edge than their tardiness allowed for. Certainly they knew he’d been with Dora and would let nothing happen to her. “No harm done. We are back safely in time for dinner.”

Downing shot another angry look at Harper who flushed and took a long pull at his glass as well.

“Is anything else amiss?” Certainly, something more than their tardiness was afoot.

“Just a little domestic upset,” Lady Downing answered, wringing her hands. “Miss Giles, the governess, has left, without word or reason. She didn’t even stay long enough to receive the wages coming to her.”

“Huh. Knew she wouldn’t get a farthing from me.” Downing poured another hefty libation, sloshing the tawny liquid into the glass with an unsteady hand. Spots of mottled pink smudged his cheeks. “That’s why she stole away.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” Dora ventured to put a word in. “She was always nice to me when I went to the nursery and seemed genuinely fond of Anna. I wonder what upset her.” She rubbed her hands then held them out to the fire. “Did she receive bad news, perhaps?”

“We have no idea, my dear,” Lady Downing replied, tsk, tsking across the room to the teapot where she poured tea into the waiting cups. “We knew nothing until Mrs. Lane came in to tell us not half an hour ago that Miss Giles had demanded a carriage to take her to Devizes, where she could catch the mail coach back to London. Tea, Lord Trevor?”

“Yes, thank you, my lady.” Leaving the fire reluctantly, Tris accepted a cup.

“Clark is going to get the sack for that too.” Downing clenched his fists. “He should have asked permission before stirring a step. We might have found out the reason behind Miss Giles’ treachery.”