by Candace Camp
“Sir Royce Winslow …” Fanshaw studied the calling card. “I believe I’ve met your cousin, Mr. Gordon Harrington.”
“Of course you have.”
“Splendid chap.”
“Mmm. That’s all settled then. I shall escort these girls home, and—”
“But what about the dog?” Fanshaw asked, frowning. “And these girls shouldn’t be running about loose. They’re a menace. They attacked my driver.”
Sir Royce raised a quieting hand as the Bascombes all chorused a denial. “They will be taken care of, I assure you. Just up from the country, you see. Cousins … um, of my housekeeper. In desperate need of training, of course; I fear I’ll have to insist that she send them back to Yorkshire.”
“Ah, Yorkshire, is it? I thought they spoke oddly.”
“Indeed.” Royce tipped his hat to Fanshaw and sent a peremptory gesture to Mary and the others. “Come along, girls. We’d best get home. I shudder to think what Mrs. Hogarth will say to you.”
Mary gritted her teeth at his high-handed tone, but she and her sisters fell in behind him. Lily turned to shoot a triumphant glance at the glowering coachman behind them, but Mary pinched her arm and she turned around.
“Now we’re your servants?” Mary grumbled when they were a few yards away from Mr. Fanshaw and his driver.
Sir Royce chuckled. “Galled you, did that? I could scarcely tell him you’re Stewkesbury’s cousins; it’d be all over the city in half an hour. Four serving girls up from the country aren’t worthy of gossip. Besides, it will ensure that Fanshaw won’t remember you should you by some wretched chance meet him again someday. He would never recall a servant’s face.”
“He hardly looked at us anyway,” Camellia stuck in. “All he cared about were his coattails. It’s no wonder Pirate attacked them, the way the silly things were flapping about his ankles.”
“Pirate?” Royce looked inquiringly at her.
“The dog. I think he looks like a pirate, don’t you?”
Royce turned to consider the small animal in Camellia’s arms. The dog appeared to be mostly terrier, white with black splotches beneath the dirt that begrimed him. A vaguely circular swath of black surrounded one eye, which did give him a piratical air—as did the scar that sliced up across his muzzle, pulling his lip up on one side in a sort of perpetual sneer. One ear pointed up, but the other, missing a piece at the top, drooped downward.
“I think he looks like a singularly unattractive dog,” Royce replied. “Did you have to bring him with you?”
“I could hardly leave him there. That awful coachman would have killed him—well, if he had been able to catch him.”
“No doubt Oliver will be delighted to have a dog about the place,” Royce commented dryly.
“He will hate it, won’t he?” Mary sighed. She knew her sisters. Camellia loved animals of all kinds, and Lily and Rose were both softhearted creatures. She hated to think what would happen if the earl wouldn’t let them keep Pirate. “Oh dear. Perhaps we can hide the dog from him.”
At that moment, Pirate took exception to a passing carriage and began to yap frantically at it. Royce cast Mary a speaking glance.
“He does have a tendency to bring attention to himself,” Mary admitted. “But we will be here only a few days. Then we’ll be in the country, and the earl won’t have to see him. Or hear him.”
“Or have him nip at his coattails,” Royce added.
“Only if they flutter about.” Mary giggled. “You should have seen that man whirling this way and that, trying to whack the dog with his cane, and his coattails twirling around.”
Royce chuckled. “I think I understand the dog and Fanshaw, but why were you tussling with the coachman?”
“He kicked Pirate!” Rose told him, remembered indignation turning her cheeks pink. “And then, when Camellia snatched him up, the man was about to hit her .”
Royce’s brows rose. “You’re joking. Obviously I should have thumped him harder.”
“Yes, you should have,” Lily agreed. “Only he couldn’t hit Camellia because Rose grabbed his arm. Then Mary started to hit him, but he wouldn’t let go, so I tried to pry his hand loose, but he was quite strong. I would have bitten his hand, but he had on those big driving gloves, so that would have been no use.”
Royce choked back a laugh. “No. I fear not.” They continued walking for a few moments in silence. “I am sure I must be a bit slow, but I still don’t quite comprehend what his horses had to do with it.”
“They didn’t have anything to do with it,” Mary told him. “I don’t know why he kept blathering on about them. We didn’t touch his horses. We were standing in front of them, that’s all, because it was the best place to hide.”
“Hide?” Royce’s brows rose. “You were hiding?”
“Yes. Well, you see, we thought this man was following us.”
“He was following us,” Camellia interjected. “Because as soon as we turned that corner and hid, he came around it, looking about for us.”
“Who was following you?” Royce kept determinedly to his point.
“I haven’t any idea. We didn’t know him. Well, we wouldn’t, would we?” Mary asked reasonably. “We don’t know anyone here.”
“He was quite large and ferocious-looking.” Lily gestured with her hands to show his height and breadth.
“He was large,” Mary agreed. “Though in all fairness, I would not say he looked ferocious. We could not see his face really until he came around the corner, and then he just looked puzzled.”
Lily sighed. “You haven’t the slightest bit of drama in you.”
“Do you have any idea why he might have been following you?” Royce asked carefully. “You didn’t by chance do anything or say anything to him—”
“No,” Mary said firmly. “We were never close enough to say anything. We just saw him walking a block or so behind us. Later on, he was still behind us. That’s when we turned the corner and hid in front of the carriage, so that we could find out whether he was in fact following us. When we saw that he was, Camellia jumped out to ask him why—”
Royce let out a muffled groan. “Of course.”
“But he turned and ran,” Camellia put in contemptuously.
“Were you brandishing your knife, by any chance?”
“No.” Camellia’s brows drew together in irritation. “I didn’t take it with me. I can see now that I should have. I didn’t realize that it was so dangerous in the city.”
“Mmm. Neither did I,” Royce agreed.
“That dreadful coachman said that it was because our skirts showed our ankles.” Lily stuck one foot out, peering down at the offending limb. “But I think he was just being rude. I don’t think they’re offensive, do you? It’s not as if you can see them beneath our boots.”
“Indeed not. I never find the sight of a lady’s ankle offensive. I think ’tis far more likely that some lout, seeing four comely young women, unescorted, might have followed, thinking that he would try his luck at, um, making unwanted advances.”
“To four of us?” Mary asked skeptically.
Royce shrugged. “Perhaps that is why he was trailing behind, in the hopes that you might split up.”
“Well, really!” Mary grimaced. “If that isn’t the outside of enough! Can we not even go for a walk in London without being accosted?”
“I would not think ’twould be a problem in the normal course of events—as long, of course, as it is not one of you entirely by herself. But, if you will remember what Cousin Charlotte told you, your attire is, um …”
“Yes, yes, we realize that our clothes are unfashionable.” Mary cast him a flashing glance. “Everyone has gone to great pains to point that out. But how does that attract louts such as this one?”
“It is, perhaps, not readily apparent that you are young ladies of quality. Now, if you had a maid walking with you or a gentleman escorting you, I doubt there would be any problem. I, for one, would be quite happy to offer you my ser
vices in that regard.”
“So we are stuck inside unless we drag a maid along with us? Or get you or Cousin Fitz?”
“I think we should take Papa’s rifle with us, like we do when we go berry hunting in the woods,” Camellia offered.
“Sweet Lord.” A spasm crossed Sir Royce’s face.
“No, we can’t do that,” Mary said. “Everyone already thinks we’re odd enough. I know it’s a trial, but we’ll be in the country soon enough.” She turned to Royce. “We can walk there without any problem, I presume?”
“Of course.” Royce frowned. “But you can walk here as well. Simply take a maid if you don’t wish to wait for one of us men.”
“With all the work they have to do?” Rose spoke up. “They wouldn’t want to have to trail about after us as well.”
Her comment left Sir Royce without words for a moment. Finally he said, “I think she might prefer to trail after you than clean the fireplace or dust the mantel.”
“Yes, but she would still have them to do after she returned,” Rose said with the air of one who spoke from experience.
“I would feel a fool, having a maid trudging along behind me,” Camellia added.
“But what are we going to do?” Lily wailed. “It’s terribly boring here.”
“Boring? In the city?”
“In that house,” Lily replied feelingly. “There is nothing to do. We’ve looked. There isn’t a single interesting book in that whole huge library. No games. We couldn’t even find a pack of cards. I almost wished for a few stockings to darn.”
“Ah, now there I can help you.” Sir Royce smiled. “I know where the games are.”
“There are games?” The girls brightened a little.
“Yes, indeed. You should have asked Oliver’s butler. He would have brought them to you.”
“Oh, no!” Lily looked shocked. “We couldn’t ask him . He doesn’t like us.”
“Has Hooper been rude to you?” Royce asked.
“No. But he never smiles. At all.”
“Butlers never do,” he assured her. “But it doesn’t matter. You can find all the games you’d like upstairs in the nursery. And probably more entertaining books as well. We did not usually accompany our parents to London, but now and then we did, and the nursery was kept equipped, in any case. There is a card room, too.”
“A room just to keep cards?”
“For playing cards. It has tables and chairs and all the necessary items. There are always those at a party who’d rather retire for a few hands of whist, particularly among the older set. It’s the best way of getting Aunt Euphronia out of one’s way, I can assure you. I will show you where it is. Ah, here we are.”
The footman who opened the door looked so relieved he almost smiled as he greeted them. “His lordship will be pleased to hear that you have returned.”
“Ah. Then Stewkesbury is here?” Royce said.
“He just returned from his club, sir. He was, um, a bit concerned about his cousins.”
“I shall have to apologize to him for keeping them out so long, then, shan’t I?” Royce handed the man his hat, gloves, and cane.
The footman, setting down Sir Royce’s possessions, turned to take the girls’ bonnets as well. The dog, nestled comfortably in Camellia’s arms, took exception to the move and snarled.
“Good G—” The footman swallowed his words, but he continued to eye Pirate as he took the other hats. “I, uh, I’ll just tell his lordship you are here.”
“We’ll be in the card room.” Royce turned to Mary and her sisters and ushered them down the hall.
The dog, intrigued by his new surroundings, jumped down from Camellia’s arms and trotted along with them, bounding out in front then returning, his stump of a tail wagging so hard that his entire hindquarters wriggled. When they reached the card room, he grew even more excited, running from one end to the other, leaping onto chairs and even on top of one of the tables.
“Ah, Royce. Ladies.” The earl’s smooth voice came from the open doorway. “I am glad to see that you have returned.”
“Yes. I met your cousins talking a walk,” Royce began, but Oliver held up a hand.
“Please, spare me whatever tale you have concocted.”
“Tale?” Royce’s eyes widened innocently. “Why, there is no tale; I simply was enjoying the girls’ company so much that I fear we went a little far. I apologize if we worried—” He broke off as Pirate, spotting a new person, charged over to join them.
“Good God.” Stewkesbury stared at the little dog, which was now jumping up and down like a mad thing, wiggling and twisting. “What … is that?”
“Pirate!” Mary darted forward to grab the dog. “Blast it!” The animal leaped nimbly out of reach and darted away. “Camellia! Catch it!”
The two men watched as the girls gave chase, but Pirate, thoroughly enjoying this new game, ran here and there, bouncing off chairs and skidding across the polished floor, weaving in and out among the chairs and tables.
“I see you acquired a dog upon your walk,” the earl commented.
“Your cousins rather took a fancy to the creature.”
The earl cast a sideways glance at Royce, who opened his mouth to attempt an explanation of the dog’s presence among them.
“No.” The earl shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”
Raising two fingers to his lips, the earl let out a piercing whistle that had the effect of stopping everyone in the room. The girls turned, and Pirate raced back, once again flinging himself into the air in a frenzy before the earl. Mary dreaded what the earl would have to say.
“You!” Stewkesbury fixed the dog with a stern gaze and snapped his fingers once. He pointed to the ground. “Stop. Sit.”
To the amazement of everyone, Pirate promptly plopped his hindquarters on the floor and gazed up at Stewkesbury, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in a fatuous grin.
The earl gazed at the animal for a long moment. “That is perhaps the ugliest dog I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”
“He’s quite bright,” Camellia offered. “And see how well he minds?”
“Quite.” The earl pressed his lips together tightly. “Well, he cannot stay here unless he has had a thorough washing.”
The Bascombes, who had all sagged in disappointment at the first part of his sentence, immediately erupted in an explosion of thanks. Stewkesbury, shaking his head, held up a hand and began to back away.
“And when you have done that, I would like to see all of you in my study.”
He turned and left the room. The girls glanced at one another.
“Oh dear.” Mary reached down and scooped up the dog. “I fear we are in for a scolding.”
“At least we get to keep Pirate,” Camellia pointed out.
“Yes.” Mary looked down at the creature in her arms and had to chuckle. “A mixed blessing, no doubt.” She handed him over to Camellia. “Here, go find a tub or something to bathe him in. I will be there in a moment.”
The other three girls trooped out of the room, and Mary turned back to Sir Royce. During the walk home, she had talked with him easily enough. It had been hard to hold on to her anger, given his rescue of them, and the presence of her sisters had made it seem more natural. But now, standing here alone with him, she felt suddenly awkward.
“I-I wanted to thank you for what you did back there. With Mr. Fanshaw and the coachman and all. And for pretending to the earl that you had been with us much longer than you were.”
Royce shrugged. “It was little enough.”
“No. It was quite a bit. It’s the second time you have rescued us—no, the third time, really, since you brought us here to meet our cousin when I could not get in to see him.”
He smiled. “Yes, well … I shall have to keep my armor polished. Never know when you’ll need a knight again.” He paused, then moved closer to her. “Mary …”
He was standing so close that she had to tilt back her head to look into his face. S
he could smell the subtle scent of him, and it stirred something deep within her. She could not help but remember the way his lips had felt on hers, the pressure of his hand upon her waist, the strength of his arms around her. What did it say about her that, even knowing his disdain for her, she could still think with longing of that kiss? Could still wish, deep down, to feel it again?
“I am truly sorry for what I said the other night,” he told her, his eyes warm as they looked into hers. “And I am even sorrier that you should have heard it. I was annoyed with Oliver and his high-handed ways, and I spoke without thinking. I would not have hurt you for the world.”
Royce was far too easy to like, she thought. And, as she had found out this afternoon, it was difficult to remain angry at him, especially when he said something that made her laugh, or smiled in that way he had with the corners of his eyes crinkling up, or, as he was doing now, looked deep into her eyes, so that it felt as if he could see into the very depths of her.
Mary shifted away from him. “I know,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “that you would not have said what you did had you known that I was listening.”
However angry she had been, Mary did not think that Royce would knowingly have hurt her. But that did not change the fact that he believed what he had said. Royce frowned, obviously aware of the lack of full forgiveness in her words.
Mary went on quickly, “You need not continue to seek my forgiveness. They say one will not hear good about oneself if one listens outside doors. I should not have intruded upon your conversation with your stepbrother. Besides”—she shrugged—“given the situation you found us in this afternoon, I can hardly claim that your description of us was wrong or unfair. How can I blame you for speaking the truth? My sisters and I are not, I fear, suitable wives for Englishmen. I do not envy this governess’s task of molding us into proper ladies.”
“Do not allow her to change you too much.”
Mary gave him a speaking look. “Do you wish us to remain unwed?”
