by Candace Camp
“I didn’t do her no harm.”
“No. That is the only reason that I am going to let you go. Miss Emerson is all right. And I have no desire for this little episode to cause her any scandal or grief. Therefore, I am going to pay you what the knackers would for your horse. You are to bring it my stables, and the head groom will pay you. But if ever anyone, anyone, breathes a word of what happened today, I will come after you. And I can promise you, you will be a very sorry man.”
“But what if someone else tells about it?” the man whined. “There was other people there—the constable, the ones who stopped to gawk.”
“Then I presume you’d better pray that none of the others talk.”
“But, my lord! That ain’t fair.”
Simon’s brows rose in aristocratic disdain. “I hadn’t realized that fairness was a concern of yours. But, of course, ill-treatment is different when it is you who receive it, not give it out. Get out of here.”
The carter hesitated, and Simon added, “Now! Before I decide to change my mind.”
At that, the man turned and hurried out the front door after the constable. Simon turned to the Emerson sisters, who were standing in a bedraggled group and gazing at him with awe. “And now, ladies, if you’d like to come into the drawing room, I think a little refreshment might be in order, don’t you?”
“Oh, Si—I mean, Lord Dure! That was marvelous. I knew you would set everything straight.” Charity beamed at Dure, going to him and linking her arm through his. Together they strolled to the drawing room, Charity’s sisters following them.
“Lord Dure, I’m terribly sorry,” Serena said stiffly as they walked up the stairs. “I am so mortified that all this should have been laid at your door.”
“Don’t be a prig, Serena,” Charity told her blithely. “Who better to deal with it than Dure? I knew as soon as that constable started being obstinate that Dure was the one to handle it.”
Serena shot her sister a look of reproach. “But it was so…so messy. His Lordship cannot have been pleased at the scene.”
“On the contrary,” Dure said, a faint smile playing about his lips, “I found it quite…entertaining.”
“It was exciting!” Horatia spoke up, skipping to catch up with Dure and Charity. “I liked it best when you told that nasty man to get out.”
Elspeth, too long left out of the conversation, raised a trembling hand to her forehead as they crossed the threshold into the drawing room. “My lord, I fear…I feel quite weak.”
“Elspeth, do bear up,” Serena pleaded, grasping her sister’s arm. “We can’t have another scene.”
“My head is aching,” Elspeth moaned. “All that noise and fighting…it is too much for my nerves.”
“Honestly, Elspeth, as if you did anything,” Horatia snapped, exasperated. “It was Charity who was in danger. You just stood there and groaned about how embarrassing it was.”
Elspeth shot her youngest sister a dark look, then swayed dramatically and crumpled against Serena. Serena staggered back, struggling to hold her up. “Elspeth!”
“Of all things! Elspeth, you goose!” Charity exclaimed impatiently as Dure jumped forward to catch Elspeth and take the burden from Serena.
He lifted Elspeth up in his arms and carried her over to the couch. Serena hurried to put a pillow behind her head and to fan her.
“Belinda, get the smelling salts from my reticule,” she commanded, and when Belinda handed them to her, she waved the bottle under Elspeth’s nose.
Gradually, coughing gently, Elspeth began to revive. Dure cast a glance at her, then looked at Charity’s disgusted face, and he had to clamp his lips firmly together to keep from chuckling.
“I’m sure a cup of tea would help revive Miss Emerson,” Dure declared solemnly, and rang for Chaney.
Dure turned a pained gaze down at Lucky, who had left Charity’s side finally and come to lean against Dure’s leg and look hopefully up at him. “And what do you intend to do with this wretched animal?”
“Wretched animal!” Charity repeated indignantly. “Oh. You are teasing me, aren’t you?” She beamed down at Lucky. “Of course, I would keep him if I could. He’s a wonderful dog. Just think how he saved me when that dreadful man threatened me—I couldn’t turn him loose to fend for himself after that. I’m sure he’s probably quite handsome, once one gets all that mud off. The problem is, Aunt Ermintrude abhors dogs. She has two cats, big fat lazy Persian things that shed all over the furniture, and she won’t let a dog near them. So I cannot take Lucky back to her house. We could keep him at our home back in Siddley-on-the-Marsh, but it may be ages before Papa goes back there. So…”
She paused, and Simon raised an eyebrow. “So?” Suddenly his eyebrows drew together suspiciously. “Just what is your scheme?”
“The answer is obvious. I shall give him to you. You have this big house, with plenty of room, and I am sure that you like dogs.”
“Some dogs,” Simon admitted, casting a jaundiced eye at Lucky, who was rubbing his head against Simon’s knee, leaving a large streak of mud upon his trousers.
“Besides, I realized that you were probably lonely here and would welcome a companion.”
“I am so gratified that you thought of me,” Dure murmured sardonically.
Charity chuckled. “It won’t be so bad. Lucky really is a good dog, and I can tell that he likes you already. See how he leans against your leg?”
Dure glanced down at his formerly spotless trousers and sighed. “Yes, I see.”
“You can take him out to your country house when you go there next. Please, won’t you say that you will keep him?”
Charity looked up at Simon with pleading eyes, and Dure could not help but smile. He wondered if she had any idea of the power of her great lambent blue eyes. A man, he thought, would do more than suffer a mangy hound for such a look.
“Yes, I will keep him.”
At that moment, Chaney entered with their tea and cakes, and Simon turned to him with a smile. “Ah, Chaney, just the man I wanted to see.”
“Yes, my lord?” Chaney asked, setting down the large silver tray on the table in front of the couch.
“The hero of this day must have a little refreshment, too. Take Lucky out to the kitchen and feed him. Then, I think, a bath would be in order.”
“Lucky, my lord?”
“The dog. He will be staying with us for a while.”
“Oh. Yes, of course, my lord.” Chaney’s carefully trained face did not give away his thoughts, but his voice faltered a little as he went on, “Give him a bath, my lord?”
“Yes. You have to admit that he’s appallingly dirty. He can’t stay in the house in that condition.”
“Yes, my lord,” Chaney replied feelingly. He looked at the dog askance, then bravely straightened his shoulders and started toward Lucky. “Here, dog. Nice dog.”
The butler bent over, crooking his finger to the animal. Lucky watched him with interest, his tail wafting to and fro, but he made no move toward the man.
“I think, Chaney,” Dure advised, “that you will have to touch the thing.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Don’t tease Chaney,” Charity said reproachfully. “You know he can’t want to get his white gloves dirty. Besides, I’m not sure that Lucky will go with him. He seems to have become attached to me. I’ll take him down to the kitchen, Chaney,” she told the butler cheerfully, picking up the makeshift lead. “Just show me the way.”
“Oh, no, miss!” Chaney looked horrified. “I’ll take him, miss.” He set his jaw and moved forward to take the lead.
Lucky sat back on his haunches and emitted a low growl. Chaney pulled on the leash, but Lucky braced his legs, lowered his head and refused to budge. Chaney, gritting his teeth, reached out and wrapped his hands around the lead on the dog’s neck and tugged. Slowly he pulled Lucky, still sitting, across the smooth marble floor and out the door.
Simon and Charity sat down with the others to partake of the tea. Serena was sti
ff and uncomfortable, and Elspeth was too busy languishing in her chair and fanning herself to pay much attention to the food, but the other three sisters dug into the sweet cakes with youthful enthusiasm, chatting cheerfully with Simon as they ate. Horatia was in the middle of a more detailed description of the morning’s events when a loud crash sounded somewhere in the house, followed by an angry bellow.
Simon and Charity looked at each other, the same thought forming in their minds. A moment later, there was a feminine shriek, then a loud male voice exclaiming, “Come back here, you hellhound!”
Another thud sounded, much closer now, and then the sound of a dog’s claws scrabbling on the slick marble. An instant later, Lucky turned into the room at full speed, sliding sideways, claws clicking as he sought purchase on the ungiving floor. A footman, white wig knocked awry and face red, shirtfront splattered with mud, lunged after the dog, making a flying leap to grab him. But Lucky scooted away, and the footman hit the floor with an audible “Oof.” Lucky tore across the room and flung all seventy pounds of himself into Charity’s lap.
Serena and Elspeth shrieked. The footman came up cursing. Chaney rushed into the room, trying to straighten his clothes and hair and regain a look of dignity as he poured out apologies. Simon roared with laughter.
“Lucky! You poor thing!” Charity cried, wrapping her arms around the dog.
Lucky looked, if possible, worse. He was soaked, his fur clinging to his body, and the water had turned all the dirt and mud covering him into an extremely dirty mess.
“Charity!” Serena gasped. “He’s getting you filthy!”
“I know, but he’s scared.” Charity petted him, crooning words of comfort into the big dog’s ear, and Lucky’s tail swung happily, knocking over a small vase on an end table. “Poor thing, he’s in a strange place, with strange people shoving him into a tub. It’s no wonder he panicked.”
She looked crossly at Simon, who was still laughing helplessly and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh, stop.”
“I can’t help it,” Simon gasped out, looking at the great dog, who was now snuggling up to Charity, getting her even dirtier and wetter.
Chaney hurried across the room and tried to pull Lucky off Charity’s lap. Charity pushed the dog off onto the floor and stood up. “It’s all right, Chaney. I’d better wash him myself.”
“Oh, miss, no!” Chaney looked horrified at the thought.
“He won’t stay still for anyone else,” Charity pointed out reasonably, and started for the door, Lucky trotting along obediently by her side.
Chaney cast an anguished glance at Dure, who shrugged. “Best do as she says, Chaney. Obviously Miss Emerson has a way with the animal that the rest of us do not.”
He stood up and joined Charity. “Come, my dear, let me escort you to the kitchen.”
The two strolled through the door and along the hallway to the kitchen, Lucky trotting happily beside them. Chaney followed, looking stricken.
The kitchen looked as if it had been the scene of a minor war. A large tub, half full of soapy, dirty water, sat in the middle of the stone floor. The remainder of the water in the tub had obviously wound up on the floor around it. A small cabinet lay turned over, doors open and contents spilled out. Two straight-backed wooden chairs were turned over on their sides, and a clay pitcher lay in pieces on the floor. A wet, bedraggled maid was sweeping up the pieces, and another was trying to mop up the water, while a footman righted the cabinet. The cook had withdrawn to the huge stove and was standing with his arms crossed, gazing contemptuously at the scene before him.
When Charity and Lord Dure walked into the room, all the servants swung around to stare at them, gaping in amazement.
“My lord!” a plump older woman, identified by her dress and the keys on her belt as the housekeeper, exclaimed, and dropped a quick curtsy, which the maids hastened to copy.
They shot hasty, curious glances at Charity and the muddy dog by her side. Only the chef was not stricken into silence. He strode forward, gesturing and speaking volubly in French.
“Yes, I know, Jean-Louis, I know,” Simon said soothingly. “I promise you, your kitchen will soon be back in its normal shape.”
His words did little to calm the Frenchman, who grew redder and louder with each word. Charity smiled and stepped forward. “I am so sorry. Please forgive my dog.” She laid a small, entreating hand on his arm and smiled up into his face. “I’m afraid it is my fault that your kitchen is in such a dreadful mess.”
The man stopped talking, and the angry flush receded from his face. He gazed at Charity for a moment, then smiled at her, then began to speak in heavily accented English. “But, no, mademoiselle, it is nothing. I did not know the animal was yours.”
Simon lifted an eyebrow at this exchange, and when the chef had retreated to his stove, he bent and whispered in her ear, “Had I known you could wrap my chef around your finger that way, I would have married you long ago.”
He introduced Charity to the staff, who bowed or bobbed a curtsy, stealing curious glances at her from the corners of their eyes. Charity favored them all with one of her sunny smiles.
“It’s very nice to meet all of you,” she assured them. “Now I’ll wash Lucky and get him out of your way.”
The housekeeper gasped in horror. “Miss Emerson! No, you mustn’t! We shall do it.”
“It’s all right,” Charity assured the servants airily. “It’s something I’ve done many times before. Besides, Dure will help me. Won’t you, Dure?”
The servants turned even more astonished gazes on their employer. Dure merely smiled imperturbably. “Of course, my dear. I am sure my trousers and jacket are a small price to pay for Lucky’s comfort.” He turned to the servants and dismissed them with a nod. “Get on about your tasks. Miss Emerson and I will take care of the animal.”
The servants all retreated to the far side of the kitchen, gaping, as the earl of Dure stripped off his jacket, then wrapped his arms around the large, filthy dog and put him into the tub. Later, one of the footmen was to tell the neighboring footman that he had never seen anything like the way His Lordship, usually so impeccably dressed and coolly visaged, waded into the task of cleaning the dog as if he’d been accustomed to it all his life. The Earl’s valet, hearing all the commotion, had finally given way to curiosity and walked into the kitchen to see what was going on. When he saw His Lordship, half-drenched and laughing as he struggled with a mongrel in a tub, he was so appalled he had to leave the room.
Charity picked up the bar of soap in the tub and lathered Lucky up, while Simon fought to keep the animal still. Lucky, however, was not going down without a fight, even with his beloved new mistress giving him the bath, and he squirmed and twisted and tried to heave his bulk out of the tub, thoroughly splashing both Charity and Simon with water. Two maids timidly brought Charity pitchers full of clean water, which she sluiced over Lucky’s head. The dog shook all over, sending water flying about the room, and Charity shrieked and laughed, holding up her hands to protect her face. Simon, watching her, laughed and lost his grip on Lucky, who promptly bounded out of the tub, shook himself again and rose up to put his paws on Charity’s shoulders, trying to lick her face.
Charity wrestled the dog down, and Simon came to her aid, pulling Lucky back into the tub. He held him down more firmly while Charity poured another pitcher of clean water over him, then yet another, until at last the dog emerged, looking half-drowned but clean.
Though Simon held tightly to the dog, his eyes went nowhere except to Charity. Her struggles with the dog had soaked completely through her dress and underthings. They clung damply to her skin, outlining the curves of her full breasts and the small, tight buds of her nipples. Simon’s throat was suddenly dry, and his amusement of the past few minutes vanished, replaced by a consuming heat. He wanted her, and each time she bent or turned as she worked, her breasts swaying gently, desire coiled even more tightly within him.
One of the footmen brought a large bath
sheet, and Charity and Simon reached for it at the same time, their hands grazing. Simon felt the sizzling shock of the touch all through him. Together they wrapped the towel around Lucky and rubbed him dry. As they worked, Charity’s breasts grazed Simon’s arm. He kept his head down, hoping she would not read the desire in his face.
Finally they let Lucky go, and he tore about the kitchen and out into the hall, whirling and shaking himself off and sliding against the walls and over the floors in an attempt to rid himself of the dreadful dampness. Simon and Charity watched him, chuckling at his antics, but Simon could not keep his eyes from straying to Charity’s bosom.
Simon took Charity’s arm and steered her from the room, carefully keeping his own body between her and the servants. Lucky bounded after them, but, fortunately, one of the footmen was quick enough to grab him and hold him back, while one of the maids shut the door.
Simon and Charity started down the hall. Suddenly Simon pulled Charity down a side hall and into the small alcove beneath the back stairs. Charity glanced over at him in surprise and opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but then his mouth covered hers, effectively stifling all questions.
CHAPTER NINE
FOR AN INSTANT CHARITY went still. Then she melted against Simon. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went up on tiptoe, her lips pressing eagerly into his. Simon made a noise deep in his throat, and his hands slid down her body, pressing her hips into his. His shirt was as wet as her bodice, and it was almost as if nothing lay between them. He could feel the lush swell of her breasts pressing into his hard chest, and the small, harder buttons of her nipples. Excitement poured through him. He plunged his fingers into Charity’s hair, disturbing its few remaining pins, and it tumbled down over his hands like a silken waterfall.
A tremor ran through Simon, and he turned, moving Charity farther back into the alcove, until she was pressed into the wall. His mouth moved on hers, his tongue exploring the hot, wet cave of Charity’s mouth. He could not get enough of kissing her; he felt as if he could sink into her soft warmth, to the very center of her being. He wanted to; he wanted to know her that intimately, to hold her that tightly.
