Drake's Lair by Dawn Thompson

in such a taking, was beyond him. Rage starred his vision, and spinning on his heels, he stormed out of the servants’ hall.
     

 
    Eight
    When Melly went down to breakfast with the signed contract, the earl was conspicuously absent. It was several minutes before James Ellery joined her. She had already selected a portion of eggs poached in cream and grilled sausages from the sideboard, and Smithers had poured her coffee, when the steward stomped into the room, his face dark with anger. His mustache was protruding, and his clamped-down lips were on the verge of trembling.
    “Why, Mr. Ellery,” she breathed, “whatever is the matter?”
    The steward pulled up short of the sideboard and gave a start. He was evidently so overset that he’d passed her by unnoticed. His posture shifted. He adjusted his white brocade waistcoat, straightened the lapels on his blue morning coat of superfine and forced a smile.
    “I didn’t see you there, Miss… Lady Ahern,” he said. “It’s nothing. I’m all in a muddle this morning. My new manservant hasn’t arrived, and Drake has taken Griggs with him.”
    “Taken him where?” she asked, fingering the contract on the table beside her. She had wanted to give it to the earl without delay.
    “He’s gone off for a tour of the crofts,” he said, anger creeping back into his tone. “Deuced impetuous I daresay, haring off like that without a word to me. I had to hear it from Prowse, of all things.”
    “Indeed,” she responded. “The storm is still blowing. Whatever possessed him do you think, is there an urgency somewhere?” Whatever, indeed! He was a phantom, wasn’t he—appearing and disappearing like a wraith? She was beginning to believe that he was one in earnest.
    “Not to my knowledge,” he said, loading his plate with eggs. His mind seemed elsewhere, and he stopped just short of spooning eggs onto the carpet. “Ah!” he muttered, scraping some back into the silver tureen. “He hasn’t been himself since he returned I’m afraid. I do believe Spain has taken its toll. I expect he’s battle fatigued.”
    “Well, not having known him before, I can hardly judge,” she said, toying with her eggs. “But I must say he impresses me as being a bit… eccentric.”
    “You’ve noticed that, too, have you?”
    “Ummhumm,” she said, around a mouthful of eggs. “How long will he be away?”
    Ellery shrugged. “Several days—a sennight perhaps. He did take Griggs after all, and he never does that on an overnighter. I think he did it apurpose—just to irk me. He doesn’t want to share him, ergo my new valet, who is already behindhand. I actually had to dress myself this morning.”
    “Well, you look quite properly put together,” she said demurely, though her coy delivery left a bad taste after it. If it weren’t for her agenda, she would have avoided James Ellery like the dysentery. She salved herself with the balm of necessity, however, and said in her most charming voice, “I am disappointed that he has chosen this moment to absent himself—“she fingered the contract he had been eyeing beside her plate “—I wanted to have this behind me, and now it seems I am put off.”
    “Why don’t you let me keep that for you until Drake returns,” he offered, reaching for the parchment. “I’ll lock it away in the study. It will be quite safe.”
    “Thank you, but no, Mr. Ellery,” she said, pulling it back as his fingers crawled over the edge of it. “I’ll hold onto it if you please. I signed it rather hastily after all. I’ll use the time to peruse it again… just to be sure.”
    “As you wish,” he said succinctly, drawing his fingers back reluctantly.
    What to do? Should she press him about the herbs, or about the earl in general? Where to begin? He wasn’t pressed for time evidently, but curiosity overcame common sense.
    “You’ve known the earl for a long time, haven’t you?” she inquired.
    “Since we were schoolmates at Eton,” he