My Lady's Dare. Gayle Wilson
Not openly. At least, not yet.
“I wonder if you would consent to join me briefly in my study. There are some things we should discuss before I leave,” Dare said.
She had been trying to read the tone of the first sentence, and so it took a second or two for the sense of the second to penetrate. “Before you leave?” she repeated in surprise.
“I’m afraid business calls me away for a few days. My apologies for leaving you alone,” he said, still watching her.
She tried to keep her relief from showing. He had not said when he was leaving, but that had sounded as if…
“Of course,” she said faintly.
“Harper, my valet, will see to your needs in my absence. He will assign one of the maids to serve you tomorrow. I’m sorry I failed to think of that this morning.”
It had been over two years since Elizabeth had had an abigail. She wasn’t sure she remembered what it was like to be waited upon. The thought that he had been remiss in not providing her with a maid hadn’t even crossed her mind. After all, in spite of what the earl had told his housekeeper, she was well aware that she wasn’t here as his guest.
“If all goes well, I should be back within the week,” the earl continued. “I’ve asked Harper to meet us in my study. He’s probably waiting there now.”
She examined the information, looking for hidden pitfalls; however, this seemed to be a reprieve, if anything. Dare was to be away on business, and she would be left alone. He had implied it would be for a few days. Perhaps long enough for her to find a way to get a message to Bonnet?
She didn’t know what game the Frenchman was playing, but she knew he would never have allowed her out of his clutches if it had not been to his advantage. So she was certain there had been more to the game of cards in which he had staked her than appeared on the surface.
“If you would be so kind as to come with me….” Dare said, bringing her attention back to the present.
He was already standing, and there was a footman behind her chair, ready to pull it back so that she, too, might rise and join the earl in his study. Where she would be introduced to his valet. It all seemed harmless enough. Already her mind was working on the possible implications of the earl’s absence. And on its possible advantages.
“Of course,” she said.
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting in the Earl of Dare’s valet, but it was certainly not the man who was waiting in the room to which Dare led her. Small and undistinguished, it seemed Harper might be more at home in the stables of a country estate than in this vast and elegant town house.
“Mrs. Carstairs, this is Harper, my valet,” the earl said.
There was something in Dare’s voice. A note of amusement, perhaps? And Elizabeth thought she knew why when she confronted the open dislike in Harper’s eyes.
This was the same assessment, the same judgment, she amended, Mrs. Hendricks had made this morning. And one which had been absent from the earl’s eyes, she realized. Whatever his servants thought her to be, apparently Dare had not yet made up his mind. Or perhaps he had decided it didn’t matter what she was.
“Mrs. Carstairs,” Ned Harper said. There was a subtle, but obvious emphasis on the title.
“Mr. Harper,” she said, echoing it.
The small barb struck home. His brown eyes widened, and he glanced at Dare before they came back to her face. At least the contempt that had been in them before was gone, replaced by wariness. Elizabeth found she infinitely preferred the latter to the former.
“Ned will see to your needs while I’m gone,” the earl explained again, this time for his valet’s benefit. “You have only to ask him for anything you need.”
Except Harper can’t arrange what I need, she thought bitterly. And neither could the Earl of Dare, no matter how rich he might be.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said.
“That will be all, Ned,” Dare said softly. It was clearly a dismissal, but the valet didn’t move, his eyes tracing over her boldly now. Far too boldly for a servant.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said finally, his tone flat and hard.
Since he hadn’t used the earl’s title, Elizabeth wasn’t perfectly sure which of them he was addressing, but Dare seemed to be in no doubt.
“And that is my privilege, of course,” he said.
There was no anger in his voice. Again, she thought she sensed amusement there instead, and she wondered about the relationship between master and man. It was beyond her realm of experience. Her father’s valet had been a toadying, simpering idiot, whom no one held in respect, not even the other servants, despite his superior position in the household.
It was obvious that Ned Harper, however, was accustomed to speaking his mind, no matter the subject—even one so personal as the earl’s relationship to a woman. And he seemed to expect that Dare would attend to his opinion.
Harper’s mouth had tightened, and his eyes, if possible, had grown colder as they rested on her face. Elizabeth controlled her features, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing she had noticed his dislike.
“That will be all, Ned,” Dare said again, even more softly.
The valet’s eyes held another second on her face, and then he turned and almost stalked from the room.
“I apologize for Ned’s rudeness,” Dare said after a moment, his voice untroubled. “It wasn’t directed at you, I assure you. He’s angry that I’m not taking him with me.”
He moved to stand beside the fire. He put both hands on the mantel, looking down into the flames. The fine, wine-colored cloth of his jacket stretched across a broad back and well-defined shoulders.
Elizabeth was well aware that gentlemen often created the appearance of muscle by the artful use of buckram padding. It was obvious, however, just as it had been this morning when she had watched him climb the stairs, that the Earl of Dare had never been called upon to resort to such stratagems.
She pulled her eyes away, turning her head a little, so that she wouldn’t be tempted to look at him any more. Ned Harper was standing in the doorway to the study, watching them. He held her eyes a long time, and then he shut the door, taking pains that its closing didn’t make any sound. She looked quickly back at the earl, but he hadn’t moved, unaware that his valet had been spying on them.
“Why aren’t you?” she asked.
“Taking Ned?” Dare said, as he turned to face her. His hair was blue-black in the firelight. “A quick business trip. I won’t have need of his services.”
She wasn’t sure this time if the use of the word had been deliberate, but it brought them back to the crux of the matter. Back to what she thought he wanted from her.
“And I’m to stay here in your absence?”
“Of course,” Dare said. “I assume you don’t wish to return to Bonnet’s.”
She said nothing, wondering if he would let her go if she said yes. And, more importantly, wondering what Bonnet would do to her if she showed up at his door tomorrow.
Because she wasn’t here by accident, of course. Or by a turn of fate. Henri Bonnet, despite his unquestioned skill at gaming, left nothing to chance.
“Or do you, Mrs. Carstairs?”
“No, my lord,” she said softly.
“Then I shall see you when I return.”
The question she wanted to ask him trembled on her tongue. She watched as he walked across the room until he was standing before her. He held out his hand.
“Sleep well, Mrs. Carstairs,”