“An excellent suggestion,” Eugene hastened to add. “Shall we meet back here in two hours’ time?”
Anthony looked at Daphne, but she appeared interested in a notice announcing a contest for Hot Hasty-Pudding Eaters. “Very well, Eugene. Enjoy yourselves.”
Eugene and Miss Shelby hurried away like two children released from their governess.
The earl came to stand next to Daphne. Although the breeze carried a cornucopia of smells from the fair, Anthony could detect her light flower perfume. “Does the idea of watching grown men ‘Contend for superiority by swallowing the greatest quantity of hot hasty-pudding in the shortest period of time’ appeal to you?”
Daphne wrinkled her nose in distaste. “No, sir. I am for the tumblers.”
He extended his arm, and she placed her hand on it. Happiness filled him at the simple gesture.
This would not do, he chided himself, as he led her through the crowd. He was as good as promised to another. He should not be having these tender feelings for Miss Kendall.
But the general air of gaiety infected him. He told himself again that he had this one last day with her before his formal proposal to Miss Blenkinsop. He must be content with that.
They watched a family of tumblers, and Daphne clapped and laughed at the antics of a precocious boy of about four years. Anthony caught himself imagining her playing with their young son. She had the loving qualities it took to be a good mother.
Did Miss Blenkinsop? Or was she the sort to turn over the raising of children to a nurse and only have the young ones trotted out for her inspection occasionally?
He reminded himself that he had made a wise choice in Miss Blenkinsopp.
It was an assertion he found he needed to silently repeat all through their hours together as they laughed at a silly puppet show, stood entranced by the conjurer, and enjoyed warm gingerbread washed down with lemonade.
Anthony did not know when he had last had so much fun. Certainly he appreciated the culture and amusements Town life had to offer, but he loved the country. He believed Miss Kendall shared this view, and her presence played a large part in his pleasure.
For Daphne’s part, she was blissfully happy. Being in the country again made her feel more alive. She loved nature and all it had to offer. The amusements of this simple country fair reigned supreme over the most elegant of Society affairs in her judgment.
And she loved Lord Ravenswood.
Presently they stood in a large stall set up with all manner of trifling goods to tempt the purses of fair-goers. Daphne gazed at the earl from under her lashes, thinking over his lively sense of the ridiculous, displayed when they watched a man who claimed to be swallowing a fork. The earl’s ready sense of humor was a side of him she had not really seen before.
In addition, he was conscious of her comfort at all times, guiding her around puddles, adjusting her shawl about her shoulders, anticipating when she might be thirsty.
And she admired his intelligence. He clearly was a man comfortable in any setting, and knowledgeable on many subjects.
“Woolgathering, Miss Kendall?” Lord Ravenswood asked with a raised brow.
Daphne straightened. She found she had been smoothing a length of ribbon with her fingers while staring into die distance. “No, my lord. Merely admiring this color.”
The ribbon was a pretty shade of green with flowers embroidered on it. “I shall buy it for you,” he said, motioning to the merchant.
Daphne tried to protest, but was ignored. A minute later he handed her the small package, tied with a string. “Thank you, I shall wear it tomorrow. Oh, look, there is Miss Shelby and Eugene.”
The couple waved and crossed the grass. Eugene’s silver-gray eyes twinkled. The peach color in Miss Shelby’s cheeks was high. “Daphne, we have had the greatest time. And a group of gypsies has camped at the edge of the fair, can you believe our good luck? Will you not come with us to hear them play?”
“Of course. Who could refuse such a treat?” Daphne said. “You do not mind, do you, my lord?”
“Certainly not. Lead the way. Miss Shelby.”
The four walked to the far side of the fair, chatting about their experiences. When Daphne got to the part about the conjurer performing various tricks with cards and balls, Eugene snorted. “Child’s play,” he muttered, but no one heard him over the music the gypsies were playing.
They secured a place in front and watched the gypsies, whose colorful skirts swayed as they danced and twirled their tambourines. Miss Shelby seemed much taken with them. She was the only one besides Eugene to notice that some of the members of the gypsy troupe were bowing as they passed Eugene. It was done subtly, so that it could be interpreted by a casual observer as part of the dance, but the wide-eyed gypsies paid homage to the Egyptian manservant as they passed.
The music stopped, and a young male gypsy held his cap out among the crowd for anyone who wished to throw in some coins. Lord Ravenswood tossed several in, earning him a tug of the boy’s forelock.
“Daphne, I had the most wonderful telling of my fortune by one of the gypsy ladies earlier. Over there,” Miss Shelby said, indicating a worn tent bearing a sign that read “Fortunes Told.”
Daphne looked skeptical.
“Do go, dear. The woman told me I would soon be making a journey by sea! I am so excited at the very thought. Go and find out what she predicts for your future.”
“If you wish to take Miss Kendall, master, I shall wait here with Miss Shelby,” Eugene offered.
“All right,” Lord Ravenswood conceded. “Come, Miss Kendall, you cannot miss hearing what your future holds.”
She took his arm, and they walked toward the tent. “I am not sure ... you see, my lord, when I was a child I was quite frightened by an old crone telling fortunes.”
They reached the tent, and Lord Ravenswood threw back the flap to the entrance. He walked in and with a sweeping gesture, motioned her forward. “I shall protect you,” he proclaimed with mock gallantry.
The tent flap closed, and they were alone in the dim light. A table with two chairs stood in the center of the tent. On top of the table lay a deck of colorful cards. No one was about.
“It appears we are out of luck, Miss Kendall,” the earl said. “Bother, I shall not be able to play the part of rescuing knight after all.”
Daphne’s eyes adjusted to the low light. The whiteness of the earl’s cravat gleamed in the darkness. “Perhaps the gypsy will return in a moment. Look, I wonder if she uses those cards to predict the future.”
Lord Ravenswood glanced at the deck. “They resemble some that Eugene fiddles with.”
They both looked down at the top card. It depicted a man and a woman dressed in ancient garb facing each other, each holding a gold-colored cup. A winged lion hovered above them, and the Roman numeral two was at the top of the card. The couple appeared to be pledging their troth to one another.
Daphne raised her head to find Lord Ravenswood staring at her intently. The smoldering flame she saw in his eyes startled her. She returned his gaze wordlessly, her heart suddenly pounding. The promise of intimacy she often felt when she looked into his dark eyes was there now, weaving a web that contained only the two of them.
Seconds passed in silence. Daphne began to think he would kiss her. Her whole being seemed to be filled with waiting.
“Miss Kendall... I...” his voice was low, and he appeared at a loss for words.
“Yes,” Daphne whispered, sensing his hesitation. “What it is, my lord?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, she could see the distance was back in their depths. “I merely wanted to thank you for coming with me today and to tell you how much I have enjoyed this outing.”
She dropped her lashes quickly to hide the hurt. For a moment she had allowed herself to hope he would share his thoughts, his feelings with her. It seemed, however, that his lordship was struggling with some inner demon.
Or perhaps she was merely mistaken in thinking he held any finer feelings for her. “It is I who must thank you for escorting Miss Shelby and me,” she told him, her voice wooden.
Neither spoke as they walked out of the tent. Daphne shaded her eyes from the sun, which seemed uncommonly bright after the dimness of the tent.
It was the sun’s brightness, she told herself, that caused the hot sting of tears to form behind her eyes. Mortified, Daphne held herself rigidly in check, turning away from the earl and blinking back the tears before they could fall.
“Oh, there you are,” Miss Shelby’s voice rang out. “What did the gypsy say?”
Daphne was able to turn a composed face to her companion. “She was away from the tent. I am no wiser than before about what my future holds.”
“What a shame, dear!” Miss Shelby exclaimed. “The woman had a gift, I tell you. I found her fascinating. Should you wish to return later and try again?”
Daphne indicated she did not.
Eugene’s sharp eyes looked from his master to Miss Kendall. He tried to discern whether or not he and Miss Shelby’s plan to use the fair to bring the two together was working. From the dismal expression on Miss Kendall’s face, and his master’s stiff countenance, his hopes were not high.
At that moment Lord Guy and Elfleta Blenkinsop approached them. Miss Blenkinsop was dressed in a white muslin gown with pink ribbons. She carried a dainty white parasol over her shoulder. A young maid trailed behind her.
Lord Guy was all in cornflower blue. No pom-poms decorated his boots, Lord Guy having decided he was quite bored with them. He had told himself his decision to leave off wearing them had nothing to do with Beau Brummell’s censure.
Lord Ravenswood bowed to Elfleta, clearly surprised to see her. “Miss Blenkinsop, your servant. I had no idea we might have the pleasure of your company.” He raised an inquiring eyebrow at Lord Guy.
All the joy of the day disappeared for Daphne as she listened to Lord Guy’s implausible explanation of how they had desired the amusements of a country fair. She noticed Miss Blenkinsop moved to stand possessively next to Lord Ravenswood, and when the group strolled through the village green, Elfleta rested her hand on the earl’s arm.
The fact that Miss Blenkinsop made thinly veiled comments insulting the entertainments offered, declared she could not be tempted to partake of any of the foul-smelling food, and pulled her skirts to the side if any of the country people came too close, was little consolation for Daphne.
The suspicion that some understanding lay between the earl and Miss Blenkinsop grew in Daphne’s mind until her head ached.
Miss Shelby and Eugene had dropped behind the party and were talking quietly, each wearing an expression of frustration.
This forced Daphne to walk alongside Lord Guy, whom she greatly disliked. She could barely speak with him after his cowardly behavior at the Egyptian Hall, and confined her answers to his forced pleasantries to monosyllables.
After some twenty minutes, Eugene broke away from Miss Shelby to hasten to Lord Ravenswood’s side. “Master, it grows late. If you are to keep your promise to return Miss Kendall home before the sun sets, we must leave now.”
Elfleta glared at the manservant. Turning beseeching eyes to the earl, she said softly, “I hoped we might go to the Star and Garter. ’Tis fashionable, you know.”
“She’s right,” Lord Guy chimed in. “Only fashionable place around for miles.”
Lord Ravenswood ignored the fop. “Miss Blenkinsop, much as I would like to oblige you, I fear I must excuse myself. I have given my word to Miss Kendall to safely have her home before dusk.”
Elfleta’s hazel gaze swung to Daphne, and her lips formed a hint of a pout. She considered digging in her heels, but decided against it. Lord Ravenswood’s manner toward her had been a trifle chilly. Not that she expected, or indeed desired, any warm attentions from him. She simply wanted nothing to interfere with the earl’s call on her father in the morning. Therefore, she smiled sweetly and dropped a demure curtsy. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Lord Ravenswood watched with a mixture of misgiving and relief as Lord Guy led Miss Blenkinsop and her maid away.
Throughout the course of the ride back to Mayfair, the four were subdued. Eugene and Miss Shelby sat together on one side of the carriage, maintaining a conversation in low voices.
This left Lord Ravenswood and Miss Kendall seated on the other side of the vehicle. In contrast to the older couple, each of them kept their gaze fixed at the passing scenery.
A heavy melancholy descended on the earl. Miss Blenkinsop’s arrival at the fair had the air of a contrivance. Lord Ravenswood frowned. But surely she was too weak-brained for scheming. That fact was what held his interest. Perhaps he was making too much of her behavior today.
Or maybe his feelings for Miss Kendall caused his doubts. He had to admit she had a powerful effect on him. Alone in the gypsy fortune-teller’s tent, he had been assailed with a desire to taste her lips again. To kiss her the way he had at the Pelhams’ ball. He had refrained from doing so with only the strongest effort, reminding himself for what seemed the hundredth time that day that he was soon to be betrothed to another.
Anthony sighed impatiently. Did he not know his own mind?
“My lord?”
Anthony realized Miss Kendall was addressing him. He turned to face her across the short distance of the seat. “I am sorry, I did not hear you.”
“I asked if you would be taking Mihos home with you tonight.”
Anthony’s mind raced. Here was his opportunity. He could take the cat with him, and the connection Mihos represented between him and Miss Kendall would be broken.
He could offer for Miss Blenkinsop in the morning and not see Miss Kendall again. That way, she would not be able to wreak havoc with his senses the way she was doing now, looking at him with that sincere, earnest expression in her beautiful green eyes.
“I think I shall wait if it is all the same to you.”
The minute the words were out of his mouth, Anthony blinked in consternation. What was he about? Devil take it, he was just like his father! He was a fool, ignoring his carefully executed, sensible plan to find the perfect countess because of a pretty face.