Lord and Master (26 page)

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.

Epilogue

A month after their wedding, The Earl of Ravenswood and his countess, Daphne, reclined on their bed at Raven’s Hall. The sounds of Holly, Folly, and Jolly barking and cavorting outside reached their ears through the open window.

Anthony had, and not an hour before, used his body in many talented ways to show his blissful bride how much he loved her. Daphne thought it scandalous that her husband had taken her to bed in the middle of the day. But, she decided smiling lazily, she would soon grow accustomed.

While her husband went to pour her a glass of iced lemonade, kept cool in the bucket he had thoughtfully brought to their room earlier, she reached over to the bedside table and picked up a late wedding gift. Seeing her busy at her task, he perused his mail.

“Well,” he said, opening a letter, “here is another note from William Bullock.”

“Have they cleared up the mystery yet?” Daphne asked, pulling at the wrappings of the gift.

“No. As far as anyone knows, the missing Bastet statue simply reappeared in the museum in Baluk.”

“Maybe someone had a guilty conscience,” Daphne offered.

The earl put the letter aside and brushed his lips across his wife’s naked shoulder. “’Twill always be a wonder. Like the softness of your skin.”

Daphne nudged him away. “Darling, please, I am trying to open this present.”

Lord Ravenswood sighed and picked up another letter. “Here is one from Eugene and Leonie.”

Daphne looked up eagerly. “Oh, how are they? I confess I cannot wait for them to visit, although I am happy they were able to travel after their wedding. Your gift to them was most generous, Anthony.”

“Eugene deserved a reward for ail his years of faithful service. It seems they are now on their way from Egypt to Turkey. They have not stopped traveling since they wed,” Anthony remarked. “I, on the other hand, prefer to stay right where I am.” He reached for his wife again, but she evaded him.

Daphne finally succeeded in unwrapping the gift, whose giver had not been identified. She pushed the paper aside and lifted a small, golden lamp from the box.  It was an odd-shaped creation, like a short and long teapot with an extended spout.  Look at this,” she said to Anthony, a perplexed frown on her face.

The earl pulled back the sheet covering his wife. “Hmm, yes, I should be delighted.”

“Oh!” Daphne giggled, and wrapped her arms around her husband, welcoming his kiss. The lamp fell from her fingers to roll unheeded off the bed.

The soft thud woke Mihos, who reclined on a chaise across the room. The striped cat jumped down and swaggered over to where the lamp lay on its side.

He sniffed it with a great show of feline disdain. Then, with his tail held high, he turned and strolled out of the room.

With love for my family—

Tommy, Rachel, and Alana

and

with special thanks to Melissa Lynn Jones

and

Anthony Joseph Perry

Copyright © 1997 by Rosemary Stevens

Originally published by Fawcett Crest [0449227278]

Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.