Louisa was too overcome by another fit of sneezing to argue just then, but she found an unexpected champion in the Spadgers’ son. For when the burly man reached for the puppy and would have wrenched it from her, he was confronted by a huge pair of fists.
Sammy put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
“Leave off now, Jim-hold on, son."
“If you will only wait for my cousin ... achoo! ... he will take care of all ... achoo! Oh, damn!” Louisa was driven to profanity by her sneezes, which seemed to have become uncontrollable. Her throat was thickening and throbbing, and minute by minute she found it more difficult to breathe. But she refused to relinquish the trusting puppy, which had begun to plaster sticky, wet kisses on her face.
Louisa prayed that Charles would come soon.
Though she considered entrusting the dog to one of the Spadgers, at least for the moment, any one of them might decide to give the creature back to its tormentor. She could not risk it.
The burly man had raised his fists when confronted by Jim's, and now pushed past him to make a grab for the puppy. A shoving match followed, which Louisa would have stopped if only she could stop sneezing.
It was with desperate relief that she heard Charles's cool voice carrying over the snow. “What in the devil's name is going on?"
Charles had approached the inn in a warm haze, caused in large part by Ned's brandy. But the cold of the night air had just started to seep through his overcoat, and he had begun to look forward to a dinner with Louisa.
He remembered the punch she had told the innkeeper to prepare for him the night before, and he wondered whether she would do so again. Somehow the thought that she might not think of it was more disturbing than the thought of actually missing the punch.
He was just about to ponder the meaning of this when the scene in front of the inn caught his eye: a crowd of people it seemed, and in its centre, Louisa, holding what looked like a fur muff to her exposed bosom.
A feeling of dread stole over him, even as he questioned her choice of attire.
He spurred his horse and called out in as cool a voice as he could muster. He had no doubt Louisa had done something foolish and that he would have to pay for it. A feeling of betrayal ran through him-couldn't she keep out of trouble for one hour? But as he dismounted, his anger was mollified by the sight of tears in her eyes as she turned to him with a rapturous smile.
“Charles! Thank heaven, you've come!"
She hurried to him and thrust her muff into his hands. Charles caught the bundle, fresh from the warmth of her bosom, and stared down at her. Even in the lantern's dim light, he could see the rosy imprint it had left on her flesh, from the bottom of her chin down to the neckline of her gown. His eyes were then drawn to its thin material, through which evidence of the chill she was suffering was prominently visible. The sight brought heat to Charles's face as he remembered Ned's advice.
He stared and swallowed. But then the bundle he had taken for a muff began to squirm, and he realized it had claws. Instinctively, he grabbed for it before it could topple from his arms. Then he held it to the light.
“A puppy! Louisa, what is this about?"
The dog whined, so he brought it close to his chest again and stroked it. This treatment seemed to work, so while Louisa explained herself between sneezes, Charles absently ran his fingers through the dog's hair. After a few moments, the creature stopped squirming and settled happily against his coat.
By this time, the rest of the crowd had surrounded them. Sammy and Nan hovered in the background, while a heavy, low sort of fellow shouted that Louisa had taken his dog.
“Nonsense!” Charles said, though he realized in saying it that he had no basis for sounding so certain. He did not know Louisa, after all, though he could hardly admit that in front of the Spadgers. He had better sound as if he believed what he said, and in any event he had taken an instant dislike to the burly fellow.
“If this is your dog,” he said coolly, “it can be returned to you promptly. There is no cause to shout."
He held out the dog to the man, but Louisa, still sneezing, threw herself between them. She caught the dog and pressed it back into Charles's arms, then clasped him by the shoulders.
“You mustn't do that, Charles!” She turned her head and made explosive noises. “Oh, excuse me! I am so sorry! But you mustn't-"
“Here.” Charles transferred the puppy to one hand and reached inside his coat for his handkerchief. “What are you doing outside, anyway, without your wrap?"
Louisa took the handkerchief from him and said, “That doesn't matter now. What matters is that this-” she gestured towards the man with contempt “-this monster will abuse the dog if you give it back. I think he stole it!"
“Now, sir-” Sammy Spadger finally came forward. “T’ lass is upset, an’ reetly so, but there's nowt ta say t’ dog wor pinched. What I can say, an’ will say, is that t’ man did harm t’ dog."
Charles had grasped the situation now. He sighed with impatience. “Louisa, you cannot take a man's belongings no matter how vilely he treats them. I understand your outrage, but-"
Louisa stepped back from him, looking as if he had struck her. Her reddened eyes filled with tears. “Charles-” her voice trembled with disappointment “—I was so certain you would save it."
Charles had frozen in mid-sentence; the weight of her dismay had fallen like a stone into the pit of his stomach. Louisa's eyes were rimmed in red. Her bosom was flushed with pink, and it heaved with a most painful breathing. The burden of her disillusion threatened to sink him into the ground.
The heavyset stranger stepped forward to jerk the dog out of his arms. Charles withheld it and gave him a withering glance.
“This matter has not been resolved."
A gasp of pleasure burst from Louisa's lips.
“Oh, Charles!"
He could not resist casting a look in her direction. The weight on his chest began to lift rapidly when he saw the sparkle in her eyes.
“How much do you want for the dog?"
The fellow started, surprised, but not displeased.
“ ‘Ow much?” he said. Charles could see the calculation going on behind his furtive eyes. “Well, ‘ers a good ‘untin’ dog. I figures-"
“I'll give you ten shillings.” Charles reached inside his pocket and threw some coins at the man, who started to protest. “Ten shillings, and no enquiry into where the dog came from."
This silenced the stranger immediately. He tried to slink off into the dark, but Louisa had cause of her own to protest. She grabbed for his sleeve.
“Pay the man? Charles, how can you pay such a scoundrel when it's plain he's a criminal? Why only the most debased sort of-"
“Louisa...” Charles took her hand off the man's sleeve and forced the puppy back into her arms. Then be removed his overcoat and spread it about her shoulders.
“You've been outside much too long,” he told her, guiding her to the door. “It's time for this business to be concluded and for you to come inside by the fire before you come down with a serious chill. Your nose is already red."
“It's not the cold,” Louisa said, allowing him to shepherd her inside, “it's the dog.” She thrust the puppy back into his arms again. “I shall be quite all right if you hold it from now on."
Halfway down the corridor, Charles halted and gaped at her. “The dog?"
“Yes, Charles,” Louisa said lightly. “I do not know what it is, for I love animals. But every time I come too close to a dog or a cat I begin to sneeze."
On this surprising note, in which he detected no irony, Louisa hurried him into the private parlour and excused herself on the grounds that she must go up to her room to repair the damage the dog had done.
Stunned by this revelation, and by Louisa's obstinacy in rescuing the dog in spite of her affliction, Charles fell into a chair by the fire. Sammy Spadger came into the room to heap the grate with coals, for it was plain to see that both its occupants would need a th
orough drying out.
Emerging from his reverie, Charles instructed him to have the bags he had brought from Lord Conisbrough's house taken up to Louisa.
“Then yor lordship's servants wor there as tha said?"
“ Huh? What? Oh, yes!"
Since this latest episode, Charles had forgotten the story they had told the Spadgers. But Sammy sounded so relieved that his faith in the marquess and his cousin had not been misplaced that Charles turned to the matter once more. “My cousin's bags had been delivered,” he said. “She might prefer to change before coming down to dinner."
“Mrs. Spadger'll see to it reet away, sir. Would tha like me ta take t’ dog?"
Charles glanced down at the puppy in his lap.
It had fallen asleep along the open palm of his hand, as if the past half hour's struggle had been far too much for its young body. It lay in an attitude of complete abandon, sprawled on its back as only a young animal can lie, its front paws flopped over his thumb, its hind paws splayed outwards exposing its pink underbelly. Charles noticed the creature was a female, though he might have suspected so by the length of its eyelashes-some sort of black-and-white spaniel with remarkably long lashes.
Something stirred inside him, and he did not answer until Sammy repeated his question.
“Sir?"
“You may leave her here,” Charles said. He cleared his throat and said in a firmer voice, “I shall have to see what my cousin intends to do with it. The dog is hers, after all."
“Aye, yor lordship. And reetly so, t’ way she stood up ta that bully. If tha'll excuse me, I will say this. T’ lass has got a good heart, that she has."
Sammy bowed himself out of the room, leaving Charles to reflect on how Louisa had managed to charm the last suspicions from the Spadgers’ minds.
He was determined, however, to show no more weakness, so he resisted the impulse to gaze at the dog. Of all things for Louisa to saddle him with, he fumed in order to rally himself. He had dogs, of course. Every gentleman had hunting dogs, but they were of his own choosing, carefully bred for the purpose. Charles had no need for a dog who could not pull its own weight.
And this one, draped over his wrist like a lady's shawl, would undoubtedly prove to be a mixture of breeds, completely untrainable-as flighty, in fact, as Louisa herself.
* * * *
By the time Louisa arrived back downstairs, Charles had worked himself into a state of mild resentment, tempered by the cramp the puppy's weight had started in his wrist. He did not shift it, however. Looked at logically, his discomfort was due not to the puppy at all, but to Louisa, who had caused it to be there in the first place. No reason to take his temper out on a helpless creature when one so capable stood readily by.
He looked up at her entry, planning to start the scold he had prepared for her, but he was stopped by the sight of her new dress. A low-cut gown of yellow silk, as bright as a canary, enhanced her figure. It rustled in a pleasant way as Louisa moved forward and crooned, “Oh, isn't it precious, sleeping there? Charles, I had no idea you were so good with dogs! This one might have known you all its life."
“It's a she,” Charles found himself saying. He had never cared for the colour yellow, but somehow on Louisa it looked quite well. Because of her red hair, he presumed, noting that Ned certainly knew his business.
“Oh, it's a girl,” Louisa whispered reverently, bending over his lap to pet the dog lightly. She might have been talking about a human baby.
Her breasts hovered within inches of his face, causing a lump to rise in his throat. Charles felt something stirring in his lap. He looked down to see if the dog were waking, but realized with dismay that it was not the dog that had stirred.
He cleared his throat and tried to recall his annoyance.
“Louisa-” He sat up suddenly and placed the dog on the floor near the hearth. “What precisely do you mean to do with a creature you cannot even hold?"
The puppy sat up and yawned, then looked about for something softer to sleep on. It spied Charles's legs, crossed at the ankle, and curled up beside them to rest its chin on the toe of his boot.
Louisa looked down at it fondly. “Why, Charles, since you are so good with her, I see I shall have to give her to you."
“But I don't need a dog! Besides, you have never explained to me why you did such a rash thing!"
Louisa looked up at him, surprised. “Oh, but there was nothing rash about it, Charles! I have sworn to myself that I shall not let such crimes go unnoticed! It was a major revelation to me-and a sad one-that anyone could mistreat an animal. As soon as I heard the poor dog's cries, there was only one right thing to do, as I am sure you will agree!"
“Yes, but-'’ Charles could not bring himself now to say she was entirely wrong. “But you might have been hurt! Any man capable of abusing a dog might just as easily have turned on you! You should not expose yourself to such danger!"
“But I had no choice, as you saw! Why, even Mr. Spadger, as kind a man as he is-and I do think he is kind-even he was inclined to let the man have the dog! And he certainly would not have rescued it. That became most immediately and painfully clear."
Louisa gazed at him earnestly. “It is the most curious thing, Charles, that many good people will not bestir themselves for the benefit of others. And yet now, as I was descending the stairs, Mr. Spadger could not have been more cordial. I think both he and his wife were quite happy things turned out as they did. Mrs. Spadger said as much to me."
She changed the subject suddenly. “0h, by the way, I did not get a chance to thank you for fetching these clothes. They are all delightful, and in the latest fashion. I am very grateful to Lord Conisbrough and his sister. Do you think I should write her a note of thanks?"
Louisa looked at him quite innocently, but Charles hastened to say, “No, that would not be a good idea. Let Ned thank his sister for us."
“As you wish, Charles."
Louisa seemed perfectly willing to be ruled by him on this, but the other matter was one of conscience, and she would not be swayed. Sammy and his son brought in their dinner, and Charles waited for them to leave before mentioning the dog again. Jim had a tendency to linger, the better to gape at Louisa, Charles divined. Though respectful, the lad seemed besotted with her, and it was with the utmost reluctance that he finally left the parlour, half dragged by his bemused father.
Charles and Louisa moved to the table, but first Charles was obliged to slip his boot gently out from under the puppy's chin. It moaned when he did so, but agreed to stay put once he had draped his handkerchief over it.
Over dinner, the conversation became quite heated when Louisa suggested Charles ought to have had the man arrested.
“But on what grounds?"
She waved a fork vaguely in the air. “Why, how should I know, Charles? But there must be something. And you, being in the government, must have a much better notion of the laws than I."
She ended with her fork pointed directly at his chest, a gesture which could only make Charles feel defensive.
“You are correct, Louisa. I do have a much better notion of the law, and I can tell you there is no law in existence which prohibits a man from doing what he did!"
“Well, there ought to be!” She was seated with her back to the fire; the combination of yellow gown, red coals and vibrant hair conspired to build a glow around her. Her indignation was magnificent.
Charles imagined he could feel heat emanating from her, which warmed him, even as her next words tried his patience.
“I am sure you will want to introduce a bill to that effect."
The puppy had awakened while they talked and now came to beg for food from the table. Louisa cut a piece of ham into tidbits and started to place it before the dog.
“Louisa, if that dog is to be mine, I would be grateful if you would refrain from teaching her bad habits!"
She went on as if he had not spoken. “Nonsense, Charles. Since when does one occasion constitute a habit?"
&nbs
p; “Are you quite recovered now, little one?” she said, addressing the puppy. “We should think of a name for her, don't you think?"
Charles groaned. “Have the good grace, please, to let me name her, Louisa. I will not have a dog with some foolish name chosen by a sentimental female."
Louisa glanced up, surprised. “Do you think me sentimental, Charles? I assure you I am nothing if not practical. The name Eliza had struck me as a possibility, but if you prefer another, by all means, go ahead and choose one."
Charles had not given a moment's thought to naming the dog; but now it became a matter of honour to choose one. He groped for a name a man could call his dog without being laughed at for it.
“Juno is a good name."
Louisa glanced at the dog and hid a smile. “Why, of course. Juno-how forceful! Why, just looking at this creature brings to mind the wife of Jupiter! I am struck by the similarity!"
Then she giggled, for the puppy in its efforts to sit up and beg had fallen over on its back. It was still so young that it sat with its legs splayed off to one side-a distinctly ungoddesslike pose.
Charles swallowed the retort he had begun to make, and then swallowed his pride, as well.
“Oh, very well, then. She will be Eliza. But from now on, Louisa, the dog is mine, and I shall be the one to govern her conduct!"
Louisa dimpled at him and returned to her meal. He thought the subject had been dropped, but then she said, “Perhaps this whole incident can be regarded as fortunate, for now you will have Eliza to remind you of those measures you plan to introduce before the Lords."
Charles refused to be baited into a lengthier discussion-one that he was bound to lose, in any case. He knew better by now than to try to explain to Louisa how the introduction of any such bill would make him a laughing-stock before his colleagues. She never stopped to think about how others would regard her actions.
Charles took that back-she knew perfectly well what others thought and disregarded it all the same. But when cruelty to other humans was so rampant, how could she expect the government to legislate the protection of animals?
Mistletoe and Mischief Page 6