Love Finds Lord Davingdale (5 page)

Outside, he saw his carriage and Graves
slumped on the seat. Thinking Graves had already brought Miss
Cummings home and he had come to get him, he asked, “What are you
doing here?”

“Waiting for Miss Cummings,” muttered the
sleepy reply.

“She is here? At this ball?”

“Yes, this is the address she gave me.”

Thomas ran back into the house and up the
stairs to the ballroom. He found William. “Have you seen Miss
Cummings?”

“Who?”

“Miss Cummings? She was here, at the ball. Do
you not know her?” Thomas could not keep the desperation from his
voice. She was here and he had missed her somehow.

“Forgive me, Thomas, I know not of whom you
speak. Tell me, why are you so frantic to find her? Who is
she?”

“Two days ago, I met a woman in St. John’s
village. I found her quite interesting. Yesterday I helped her when
her carriage overturned. Her name is Ophelia. That is all I know.
That and she is staying with her cousin, the Lady Cummings in St.
John’s Wood. I gave her the use of my carriage tonight having no
idea she was to attend your ball. Tell me, you do not know
her?”

“No, Thomas, I’m afraid Penny did not
introduce me.”

“Where is your wife?” Thomas looked around
the ballroom.

William looked as well. “I have no idea. She
could be anywhere. Shall I help you look?”

“No. I shall see you tomorrow.” He would wait
with Graves until Ophelia appeared. Outside, Graves was already
gone. Gaining Helios from the mews, Thomas galloped as fast as he
could, but it was no use. He couldn’t catch up to Graves and the
team. Besides, what would the poor woman think if he accosted her
in the middle of the countryside after midnight?

He would have to wait until tomorrow when he
could call on her properly.

Unfortunately, the next morning, Thomas woke
to Graves pounding on his bedchamber door. The little foal seemed
to be having trouble breathing. All thoughts of Ophelia Cummings
flew from his head, as he raced to dress and join Graves in the
barn.

Several hours later, Astraea, as he’d come to
call her for the star on her forehead, seemed to be holding her
own. Getting the little filly outside had been nerve wracking as
she bucked from the cold, but coaxing her into the frigid air with
her mother had done her the most good. Settled in a new stall with
fresh bedding, mother and baby were sleeping. Thomas stood by the
stall and watched as her breath puffed in and out.

Graves and he mucked out the old stall and
poured buckets of hot water and vinegar over the ground to help
alleviate some of the possible contaminants there, and left it to
freeze. They would wait a year before they used it again. Now,
there was nothing more they could do except hope for the best where
Astraea was concerned.

Foaling at any time was dangerous, but in the
winter even more so. Thomas could have kicked himself for not
moving Iona and her daughter out of the birthing stall after she’d
been born. He took the blame for her situation entirely upon his
shoulders. Although he’d laid new straw for the bedding after
Astraea’s birth, the drafts in the old barn brought the muck off
the floor and into the baby’s lungs. Thomas heaved a sigh. All was
well for now.

Thomas left the barn and went around the back
of the house into the kitchen. Seated at the table, Agnes and Harry
shared a pot of tea.

“How is she?” Harry asked as soon as Thomas
stepped through the door.

“Better, much better.” He glanced at the huge
pot of water simmering over the grate. “I believe we’re done with
the water for now, Aggie. Thank you for all your help.”

“’Twas the least I could do for the poor
lamb,” she said. She walked to the fireplace and swung the pot from
the coals. “How about a nice warm cup, aye? Sit right down, and
I’ll fix you something to eat as well. You must be starved.”

Thomas slumped to the bench and ran his hands
through his hair. “I knew I should have moved them to a different
stall, but the only one open was the one near the doors. I thought
she would be better off where she was.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Now lad, do
not go tearing yourself to pieces. The babe is doing well. Have
something to eat. You look exhausted.”

Thomas sighed. “I need to get that old barn
up to snuff, Harry, ‘tis too dangerous with all the drafts, not to
mention the rotting wood, and Lord knows what else. I should set
fire to the whole damned thing and burn it to the ground.”

“Aye, and then what will you have? A burned
barn and no place to house the beasts. This is just your fear
talking. ‘Tis not as bad as you make it out to be. You’ll feel
better after you eat.”

Thomas put his chin in his palm and slouched
over the table. “Speaking of eating, we’ve received an invitation
to Caymore House for luncheon. Two o’clock. From the dowager no
less. She wishes you to attend, said you would find the afternoon
diverting.”

Harry smiled. “I think not, boy. These old
bones are still suffering from the ride into Town yesterday.”

Agnes put a plate of meat pie and coddled
eggs down in front of him. “Here now, eat up. I’m sure this will
keep you until luncheon.”

“Thank you, Aggie,” he mumbled with his mouth
full. “Could you make something for Graves as well? He’s been
working since dawn.” Thomas glanced at the clock. One o’clock.
“Harry, do you think it is too late to call?”

“Call on whom?”

“Miss Cummings. Seems she was at the Caymore
Ball last night only I missed her somehow. I wanted to call on her
today.”

Harry glanced at the clock. “Do not you have
your luncheon?”

“Lady Pen was up to no good last night,
foisting another unmarried gel on me. I would not be surprised if
she has invited her to luncheon as well, and if you are not
accompanying me, I shall arrive fashionably late.”

“Where did you learn your manners, boy?
Certainly not from me. ‘Twill not hold you in good stead with the
dowager if you are tardy. And believe me, you do not wish that
harpy on your bad side.”

“I know, Harry, but I believe Miss Cummings
is due to depart today, and I wish to have just one more meeting
with her. That way I will be able to decide if I wish to pursue her
or not.”

Harry looked solemn. “She means that much to
you?”

“Aye, I think she might.” He didn’t know
exactly why, but he’d lived by his gut instincts most of his life,
and they were hardly ever wrong. Besides, he liked her smile.

“Then hurry with your food, take the pot of
water, wash the smell from you, and go to Cummings Hall. I’m sure
the Dowager Caymore will forgive you when she finds out your
reasons, for even that old stoat cannot resist a tale of love.”

Thomas grinned at Harry, shoved the last of
his food in his mouth, and stood. “I’m off.”

Forty minutes later, Thomas sat on the squabs
of his carriage while Graves raced the team for Cummings Hall. What
Ophelia would think of him was anyone’s guess. An impoverished Earl
with practically nothing to offer a wife, yet seeking the hand of a
woman he knew nothing about. She would think him a lunatic.

They slowed to a sedate trot as they entered
the village. What if she were married? He’d never thought to look
for a ring. What if she had an understanding with someone else? He
should have asked Lady Cummings. What if she were already departed?
Had not Aggie said she was only visiting for three days. He opened
the latch and called to Graves to push the horses.

Arriving at Cummings Hall, his heart stuck in
his throat. He pulled the bell and waited. And waited. He pulled
the bell again. No one answered. She was gone.

He returned to the carriage. There was only
one thing to do now, go to Caymore House and speak with Lady Pen.
He would find Ophelia if it was the last thing he did today.

Quiggins answered the door at Caymore House.
Thomas shook off his greatcoat and handed Quiggins his hat.

“You are exceedingly late, my lord.” Thomas
noted the tone in the butler’s voice.

“Forgive me, Quiggins. I was unavoidably
detained. Pray they did not wait for me.”

“No, my lord. We are now serving dessert.
Should you wish for a plate?”

“No, thank you, Quiggins. Let me make my
apologies and I shall join them.”

“Very well.” Quiggins led him down the hall
to the small dining room on the main floor. He opened the doors and
announced, “The Earl of Davingdale.”

William pushed back his chair. “Well, it’s
about damn time, Thomas. Where have you been? You know Quiggins
will not wait. Penny is quite put out.”

“Forgive me, Lady Pen,” Thomas said his gaze
wandering the table full of his friends. “I had important business
in St. John’s Wood.” He heard a small gasp and his eyes lit
upon….Ophelia? Oh good God, it was! “
Ophelia
! What are you
doing here?”

“Mr. Merrit? What are
you
doing here?”
She seemed equally surprised to see him.

“Ophelia?” William stood. “This is the lady
you rescued?”

“Rescued?” Lady Penelope put down her glass.
“Davingdale, how do you come by such familiarity with our Miss
Trent?”

“
Miss Trent
?” Thomas pushed his hair
back from his face. “Miss Trent? You are the woman I met last
night? Why were you not wearing your spectacles?”

Ophelia opened her mouth but failed to speak.
She cleared her throat. “My spectacles were damaged in the
accident. I only got them fixed this morning.”

“What do you mean rescued?” Lady Olivia
demanded.

William explained. “Davingdale said he
rescued a woman from a carriage accident the other day. In picking
her up when she fainted, it seems it brought back the use of his
bad arm. He only knew her as Ophelia.”

“Miss Trent,” Lady Penelope interjected, “you
were in a carriage accident the other day were you not?”

“Yes, I was. And Mr. Thomas Merrit rescued
me.” She looked up at him. “But you are Davingdale?”

Lady Olivia banged her hand on the table.
“Now does not that sound like Davingdale, to use his given name to
escape an entanglement?”

“Ophelia.” Thomas moved around the table.
“Miss Trent, forgive my manners last night. I had no idea it was
you. You were dressed so differently from our previous meetings.
Had I known it was you….”

“Pray tell, what
meetings
?” Robert
pushed his chair back and stood as well. “You claim to have rescued
her, which would imply only
one
meeting.” His voice held a
curious playful tone.

Thomas could not help his face redden. “We
met on her first day in the village when I accidentally knocked her
down and sent her new cape into a mud puddle.”

“Davingdale!” Lady Pen threw her napkin on
the table.

“It was an accident,” Ophelia whispered.

“It seems a very happy one.” Lady Violet
patted Ophelia’s hand.

The air crackled and Thomas needed to get
them both out of the there. He needed to speak with her –
alone.

“Miss Trent, may I speak with you privately?”
Thomas walked toward her. “Would you all excuse us?” He nodded to
Lady Cummings at the end of the table, who wiped away a tear.

He stood beside Ophelia and held out his left
hand. She looked up into his face and gave him a trusting smile. He
took her hand, and wrapped it around his arm and laid his other
hand over hers. The dining room was silent as he led her out to the
hall and down the marble floor. Opening a door at the front of the
house, they entered another sitting room.

“Miss Trent,” he said bringing her to the
chaise. “Please allow me to speak directly.”

He paced the floor on shaky limbs, and took a
deep breath. “From the moment we met on the street, I have had this
feeling about you I cannot seem to shake. You intrigued me, and I
felt the need to further our acquaintance. I called on you the next
day, the day of your accident. I had hoped you would not think me
too forward, but I could not get you out of my mind. When I found
you lying in the bottom of the carriage, powerful emotions overtook
me, and they somehow managed to bring what was dead in my arm back
to life again. For that, I will always be indebted.” He sat next to
her.

“Had I only known it was you last night, but
I had no idea. By some very strange reasoning, I never gave a
thought that your last name was not Cummings. When you mentioned
you were staying at Cummings Hall, I just presumed. Your cousin
only referred to you as Ophelia. And I did not recognize you last
night. I had never seen your hair, being covered by a bonnet both
times we met, or even your form hidden under your coat. And with
your spectacles…please forgive me.”

“I saw you leaving last night,” Ophelia said
breathlessly. “I saw you in the hall at the top of the stairs. By
the time I reached the bottom you were gone.”

If only he’d turned around! “Funnily enough,
I was outside speaking with Graves.”

“I departed right after you did,” Ophelia
said. “I could not bear to be there any longer knowing I had missed
my last opportunity to see you. Graves took me home and I was going
to give him a note for you, but it was late and I did not want to
keep the horses out in the cold. I had no idea what to say. We were
supposed to leave for Beckhamton this morning. Only Lady Olivia
insisted Cousin Josephine and I dine with her for luncheon.”

He shifted toward her and his knee touched
hers. “I just came from the Hall to see you. I was invited to this
luncheon, but I knew Lady Pen had decided to play matchmaker again.
I knew it last night when she wanted me to dance with you. Had I
only known.”

He took up her hand and held it tightly.
“Ophelia, I know we have only just met, and this may seem
exceedingly forward, but I should like to get to know you better. I
should like to share a future with you. May I speak with your
family? Would they think it strange?”