by Amelia Grey
Her back stiffened.
He relented and said testily, “Then pardon me for my language, ladies.”
Louisa was sure that was not what the duke first intended to say. “I think we should wait out in the carriage for Mrs. Colthrust to finish,” Louisa said.
The duke touched her upper arm. “Wait.”
Louisa looked down at his hand on her arm. His grip was warm, firm, and gentle, and yet strangely possessive. His expression had softened a little, but she still couldn’t believe he’d actually touched her.
He removed his hand and said, “Do you mind staying a little longer? I want to show the girls something.”
She hesitated.
“Something appropriate,” he added.
She didn’t know if she could trust him until the corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. She felt herself weakening and she knew that couldn’t be a good sign.
“I’ll watch what I say.”
Louisa finally said, “Very well.”
“Miss Sybil?” he asked. She lifted her head and looked at him with a terrified expression. “Everything is all right,” he said softly. “There is no reason to be frightened or upset, because you are not in any trouble. Can you dry your tears for me?”
She nodded and wiped her eyes and her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, and held up the instrument she’d dropped.
She shook her head.
“It is a handle, a crank, and it’s made of brass,” he said. “It would be very difficult for anyone to break brass. Though it makes a lot of noise if it hits wood. Like this.” He knocked the handle on the table a couple of times to show her.
“I’m glad it’s not broken,” Louisa whispered. “Sybil, why would you touch anything in this house? You know better.”
“She has to touch everything,” Bonnie said.
“I do not,” Sybil complained. “Tell her I don’t touch everything.”
“That’s enough from both of you,” Louisa said. “Now, Sybil, what do you want to tell the duke?”
Sybil turned to the duke and said, “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I’m glad it’s not broken. Does that mean you aren’t angry with me?”
He leaned down and gave her a half smile and said, “I wouldn’t have been angry even if something had been broken. There’s nothing in this house I can’t replace. So no more crying, all right?” He held up the crank for her to see. “Do you want to know what this is for?”
“Yes, please.”
“I want to know, too,” Bonnie said.
The duke looked over to where the other girls had stayed motionless, fearing that Sybil was in big trouble, and he said to them, “Would you young ladies like to see and hear a music box? Come let me show you one that just arrived from India.”
“I love music,” Lillian said, and took a tentative step toward him.
“Then come on over. Don’t be afraid. Come on, all of you. No one is in trouble.” He looked at Louisa and said, “And no one is going to get punished, right?”
Louisa looked from the duke to Sybil and said, “Not this time. I think Sybil has learned her lesson. Now, the rest of you go see what he wants to show you.”
The girls joined His Grace by a table in the corner that held an intricately carved chest fashioned with inlay of mother-of-pearl on the top and sides. They all watched while he attached the brass handle to the chest and gave it several turns. He then opened the lid. A pleasant tune played as small lifelike figurines rotated around inside the box. The girls were awed by it. They had seen music boxes before, but never ones with movements.
“See? Still works and it’s not broken,” he said, looking at Sybil and then over to Louisa. He smiled at her.
Sybil gave him a beaming smile and then gave her attention back to the music box.
When the music and mechanism stopped, Louisa was surprised at how patiently the duke showed Gwen how to turn the crank and start it playing again. He didn’t seem the least bit annoyed when he had to let Lillian, Sybil, and Bonnie wind the music box and let it play, too.
When it came around to Gwen’s turn again to start the music box, the duke looked at Louisa and motioned with his head for her to follow him to the other side of the room.
“That was very kind of you not to be angry at Sybil and to show the girls your music box. I can tell they are fascinated with it.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven for using foul language in front of the girls?”
“I suppose we are all raised with a different set of values as to what is appropriate and what isn’t for children.”
“Something tells me our childhoods were vastly different, Miss Prim and Proper.”
She started to make a retort about his nickname but on second thought decided to let it pass because he’d been so kind to Sybil and shown the girls the music box.
“Yes,” she said. “Starting with you being an only child and me coming from a family of six children.”
“And you being the daughter of a vicar and me being the son of a duke who encouraged me to have no boundaries.”
Louisa heard a dog bark and turned around to see her brother’s dog leap into Bonnie’s arms. The little girl squealed with delight, and the other girls gathered around them, giggling and screaming with joy, too, as they pushed and shoved to get their hands on the dog.
The duke flinched from the hysterical sounds, and his face twisted into a frown. “Good Lord … night—what’s all the commotion about?”
“It’s Saint,” Louisa whispered, almost not believing her eyes. She looked up at the duke. “It’s Nathan’s dog.”
Chapter 8
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread.
—Much Ado About Nothing, act 5, scene 1
Bray had shuddered when Miss Bonnie’s shrill scream came out of nowhere and for no reason. When the other girls joined in, it became madness for a few moments.
“I know who the dog is,” Bray answered Miss Prim noticing that the spaniel’s coat was very much the color of the girls’ hair.
The high-pitched squealing and laughter along with the barking rattled his eardrums. How could such sweet-looking females make such ear-piercing, inhuman sounds?
All Bray saw was a blur of blond hair, blue eyes, and sprigged muslin dresses falling to the floor in a tumble of happiness. Saint was tangled among them, barking, jumping from one sister to the other, licking their faces as the girls fought to pet, stroke, and hug him. Clearly the dog knew and loved the sisters, too.
Without warning, Miss Prim rounded on him, a glare blazing in her eyes. “You are a beast!”
Her words were almost a hiss, but Bray remained calm even though there was no denying the gorgeous blonde standing in front of him looked as if she were ready to put a dagger in his heart.
“I suppose I’ve been called worse,” he remarked, wondering what in the hell he could have said this time that offended her so drastically.
She advanced on him. If it was possible for a beautiful lady to look menacing, she did. “Why did you keep him from us?”
Bray gave her a questioning look. “What? The dog? Saint?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t keep him from you.”
“You did!” she said earnestly. “You knew we wanted our brother’s dog.”
There was no mistaking the anger in her voice or her expression. He was beginning to get an idea where her fury was coming from, but he didn’t understand it.
And he didn’t like it.
“How could I have known that, Miss Prim?”
She inched even closer to him, her eyes fixed solidly on his. “After Nathan’s death, our uncle tried to find Saint for us. He searched the streets and the parks. He asked everyone, which would have included you and your friends, and no one knew what had happened to Nathan’s dog.”
So now he understood the full extent and reason behind her anger.
Bray had always been good at hiding his emotion, until h
e met Miss Prim. She could get under his skin and rile him faster than the most skillful card cheat.
This time he stepped closer to her, placing his body and his face near hers. “Your brother asked me to take care of him.”
“For us, until you could get him to us.”
“That’s not what he said,” Bray answered tightly.
“He shouldn’t have had to tell you that’s what he expected. You should have known he would want his little sisters to have his dog.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then that doesn’t make you a beast—it makes you a monster.”
It was getting harder for Bray not to show any emotion. She was deliberately accusing him of withholding something from little girls. She might as well have put a knife in his back.
“I might very well be a monster, a beast, or a monstrous beast, Miss Prim, but I don’t steal dogs and keep them from children.”
“But you did.”
“I didn’t know I was,” he said again, bringing his face even nearer—so close to hers, their noses almost touched. He didn’t know how he was managing to keep his voice so low.
“How could you have not known?”
Bray didn’t mind being blamed for anything he’d ever done that was wrong. Everyone knew there had been plenty over the years, and he’d readily own up to any of it. But he didn’t like being accused of something he didn’t do. If Lord Wayebury or anyone had asked him about the dog, he would gladly have turned him over to the sisters.
Miss Prim’s sparkling blue eyes searched his with intensity. “You mean you really didn’t think we might want Nathan’s dog?”
No, I didn’t. It never crossed my mind. I would have been happy to send him to you.
Bray watched tears gather in her eyes. Her anger had melted into pain. This had wounded her deeply. He was surprised at how quickly her anger had turned to sorrow. His heart constricted, and he fought to keep his emotions under control.
She was the most infuriating young lady he had ever met, and those girls could screech to the high heavens, but he wouldn’t deliberately cause any of them pain.
What could he say? That he wasn’t used to thinking about siblings or dogs? Hell, he wasn’t used to thinking about anyone but himself. He glanced at the loud merriment as the girls and Saint renewed their friendship. Blast it all, he could see how the girls loved the dog, and Saint was overjoyed at their reunion, too.
“How the hell was I to have known?”
She gasped.
“‘Hell’ is a biblical word, Miss Prim and Proper,” he said quickly, “and I won’t apologize for using it in front of you. Lord Wayebury asked me to take care of the spaniel, just as he asked me to marry you.”
Her intake of breath was more like a gulp. “So, Saint has been a chore to you. Just as your word to my brother to marry me was a chore that you have ignored all these years.”
“Two years.” Bray gritted his teeth. This miss didn’t know when to stop. “You, I ignored, but I took care of the dog.”
“Sister, look, it’s Saint,” Miss Bonnie said, heading their way, clutching the dog, who was really too heavy and too big for her to carry in her arms.
Miss Prim spun away from him and lovingly rubbed her hand down her sister’s warm blond curls. “Yes, I see.”
“Can we keep him? Can we take him home?” Miss Bonnie asked hopefully as the other sisters crowded behind her.
“I can help take care of him,” Miss Lillian offered.
“I’ll walk him in the mornings,” Miss Sybil said.
“I guess that means I will take him for a stroll in the afternoons,” Miss Gwen added.
Bray’s throat felt thick, and damn, but he hated the emotion that had caused it. He wished he’d thought to send them the dog.
“Girls,” Miss Prim said, “he now belongs to—”
“You,” Bray interrupted her. “Of course he’s yours. Take him. He’s been waiting for you. It’s about time you came to London to get him.”
The girls’ peals of laughter and screeching split the air again. Saint barked. Bonnie thrust the spaniel into Louisa’s hands and then swung around and threw her arms around Bray’s waist. He flinched and then cringed inwardly because he knew Miss Prim had seen him flinch. He held his hands and arms out to his side. The little girl’s hug was so unexpected, he froze.
Bray had never felt such small, gentle arms around him before. They were squeezing him with earnestness, but he had no idea what to do. Miss Bonnie placed her warm cheek against his midriff. Suddenly he felt as if she were squeezing his heart, too. Warm, compassionate feelings rose up in him, and he didn’t know what to do about them. He fought the desire to hug Bonnie close and tell her he’d never meant to hurt them, but years of training kept him from acting on the gut-wrenching feelings, and he didn’t touch the child.
If their uncle had truly been looking for the dog, asking about his whereabouts, he would have known Bray had Saint. There were more than a dozen men with them the night of the accident, and it was talked about in all the clubs and written about for months. Hell, it was still talked about. There was no way Lord Wayebury couldn’t have found out where Saint was if he’d tried.
The viscount must simply have lied to the Prim sisters.
Bray didn’t like that.
Now he had another reason for wanting to find the coward and put the fear of God in him.
Miss Bonnie looked up at Bray with the happiest blue eyes and widest snaggletoothed smile he’d ever seen. She turned him loose and said, “Thank you for finding him for us, Your Grace.”
Bray looked over at Louisa. Saint licked her chin and she laughed and smiled lovingly at the dog while she hugged him and brushed her hand softly down his blond coat. Those old feelings of remorse from the night Nathan Prim died rose up in Bray and threatened to choke him. Silently he winced and swallowed them down.
Damn Miss Prim and her sisters for making him experience emotions that had been so easy to bury in the past.
“Mrs. Woolwythe will be a lovely addition to our home, Your Grace,” Mrs. Colthrust said as she floated back into the room, smiling broadly. “Mr. Tidmore picked an excellent choice from the agency, and she can start by the end of the week.”
Miss Sybil grabbed Saint from Miss Prim, and the girls ran over to show Mrs. Colthrust the dog. The chaperone put her hands up in front of her and backed away. “No, no—please, girls. Get him away from me. I’m not fond of dogs and don’t want him near me.”
“But His Grace said we could have him,” Miss Sybil said.
“He’s going to come live with us,” Miss Bonnie added.
“Oh, no, my dears, I’m afraid that won’t work,” Mrs. Colthrust said coldly. “Not in our house, he won’t.”
“But the duke—”
“Well, then, His Grace can keep you and the dog,” Mrs. Colthrust said, interrupting Miss Lillian. “I’m afraid half a dozen girls is all I can take care of in one household. There is no room for pets.”
“No, he’s ours,” Miss Bonnie said, and burst into tears. “Tell him, Sister.”
Bray’s throat thickened again.
“He’s our brother’s dog,” Miss Sybil cried. “You can’t force us to give him up!”
“They keep Saint,” Bray said firmly at the same time that Miss Prim said, “We keep Saint.”
Mrs. Colthrust threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin high. “Lord Wayebury—”
“Is no longer in charge, Mrs. Colthrust,” Bray cut in. “I am. Now, you can remain or you can go. Your choice. But Saint stays with the children.”
Bray turned to Louisa. Her look of pain had been replaced with an expression of gratitude.
He felt a small measure of satisfaction for having done something right.
Chapter 9
Young in limbs, in judgment old.
—The Merchant of Venice, act 2, scene 7
“And the little boy promised he would never run away again.”
Louisa closed the boo
k and looked down at Bonnie’s sweet face, over to Sybil’s peaceful expression, and then down to the foot of the bed, where Saint lay curled. They were all asleep. After all the excitement of finding Nathan’s dog and then playing with him in the back garden until dark, Louisa thought it would take the girls a long time to settle down and fall asleep. She had been wrong. She was less than five pages into the story when she noticed the squirming and sighing had ceased, but she kept reading. It was soothing and peaceful to read aloud into the quietness.
She slowly rose from the bed and reached over to blow out the candle. Saint had raised his head and was looking at her. “Lie back down and go back to sleep,” she whispered. He paid her no mind and started to rise. “Stay,” she said in a stronger voice, and held her hand out as if to stop him.
Saint immediately lay back down but kept his head up and his dark, watchful eyes alert to her every movement.
“Stay¸” she said again. “You must stay with the girls.”
He turned to look at the girls at the head of the bed, and then—as if satisfied that he had a job to do—he placed his head on his front paws.
Louisa knew Bonnie and Sybil would be upset if Saint were gone from their room when they woke in the morning. She blew out the candle and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.
The light was still on in Mrs. Colthrust’s and in Gwen and Lillian’s bedchambers as she walked by. It was still rather sad to Louisa that the older girls no longer wanted her to come in and say good night to them. Gwen insisted long ago that they were much too old to be read to or tucked in, and Louisa had reluctantly agreed.
It had been dark for quite some time, but she wasn’t sleepy. She decided to go belowstairs and read in the sitting room before dressing for bed. She had so much on her mind, and reading might help get her thoughts off the maddening Duke of Drakestone so she could get a peaceful night’s slumber.
She took her book from the secretary where she kept it and made herself comfortable in one of the upholstered wing chairs near the fireplace. The coals had been banked over an hour ago, but there was still a little warmth issuing from the bricks. She pulled her feet up under her and opened the book. She stared at the page but didn’t read past the first paragraph before the duke filled her thoughts once again.