by Amelia Grey
“Pity,” he said and hid a chuckle behind his gloved hand and a cough. “Now, regarding your question about Godfrey, at first I didn’t think there was a connection, and I’m still not certain of my suspicions. Prissy and Tulip went missing in the park and Josephine in Snellingly’s neighborhood. But yesterday it dawned on me that Godfrey travels through both every day of the week. So I went to see Snellingly and Lord Waldo and asked about who had returned their dogs. They both gave the same description of a red-haired, strapping lad of about twelve to thirteen years of age. That fits Godfrey. It just seemed too much of a coincidence to me that he found both dogs. Especially now that Lady Windham’s dog is missing. I thought it might not be a bad idea to know where he lives and then to talk to him.”
“In case more dogs go missing and are mysteriously found and returned by him.”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“But if he is the dog thief and returned their dogs, why wouldn’t he have returned Prissy first, since she was the first to go missing?”
Brent looked into her concerned eyes, and a calm feeling settled over him. “I don’t know the answer to that. I’m hoping to find out today.”
Brutus lifted his head and looked straight in front of him as if he heard something. A few seconds later, Brent heard the rumbling of wheels and rattle of milk cans.
“I hear the cart,” he said, peering around a tree. “Make sure Brutus remains quiet.”
“He will not make a sound,” Gabrielle assured him as she patted the dog’s head and rose on her knees to watch.
When Brent considered the lad and the two girls a safe distance ahead of them, he, Gabrielle, and Brutus rose and followed them. Godfrey was obviously well versed on where he was going and the shortest route to get across the city. Within a few minutes, he left the shopping district of London and was maneuvering his way across the back streets and through narrow alleys. Brent stopped trying to remember the route they were taking, deciding it would be best to hire a cab to take them back to Mayfair as soon as their mission was complete. It was easy to stay out of sight and keep up with Godfrey because of the rattle of milk cans and the squeaking of the cart’s wheels.
Occasionally the lad would stop and talk to someone, or he and the girls would wave to a passing rig or wagon, but they kept a steady pace of winding farther and farther into an area of town where Brent would have rather Gabrielle not be. But there was no going back now.
Brent often looked over at her. She and Brutus had no trouble keeping pace with him. And by the expressions on the faces of some of the people they passed, no one was going to come near them with Brutus walking between them.
Brent estimated they had been following Godfrey for a couple of hours when they came to a neighborhood of rundown tenant houses. The skies had turned dark and thunderous, but not a drop of rain had fallen. He knew better than to leave his house without an umbrella, but his mind had been too busy with other thoughts when he’d walked out the door. He hoped the rain would hold off until after he talked to Godfrey.
A few minutes later, Godfrey stopped in front of what looked to be a small barn. Brent heard him tell the girls to go on home and that he would put the cart away and wash the milk cans. The girls skipped a couple of houses down the street and disappeared.
Brent turned to Gabrielle and said, “You and Brutus stay here. I want to talk to Godfrey alone.”
“Talk to him?” she asked, taking her hand out of her muff and laying it on his chest.
He liked the warmth of her touch. “That’s why I followed him, Gabrie.”
“Isn’t that dangerous? I thought you just wanted to find out where he lived.”
Brent could see she was concerned. “I need to ask him a few questions. I want to talk to him about where he found the dogs. You and Brutus stay here, and don’t worry.”
Godfrey was coming back to the cart to get more cans when Brent was close enough to say to him, “Godfrey, I’d like a word with you.”
The lad looked up and saw Brent only a few feet away. He grabbed a can off the cart and threw it at Brent. Brent ducked and then sidestepped the tumbling can. The lad took off running.
“Stop!” Brent yelled and managed to get close enough to grab the back of Godfrey’s coat, stopping him. When the young man swung around, he surprised Brent with a fast, hard fist to the side of his mouth, snapping his head back. Brent’s hat flew off his head and he staggered. A moment later he heard Gabrielle yell, “Brutus, no!”
Brent struggled to regain his footing as Godfrey quickly bent low and rammed his shoulder into Brent’s stomach and pushed him backward. Brent stumbled over a milk can and fell to the ground. He grunted and looked up in time to see Brutus’s big front paws land on Godfrey’s chest and pummel him to the ground.
“Get him off me!” Godfrey screamed, trying to squirm away from the large dog, who growled, slobbered, and held him pinned to the ground with two saucer-sized paws. “Help me!”
“Stop fighting him, and he won’t hurt you,” Brent said, rolling to his feet. “Off! Brutus, get off!” The dog looked at Brent but didn’t move. “Off, Brutus,” he said and grabbed him by the neck scruff.
Panting, Brutus growled his complaint but hobbled off Godfrey.
Gabrielle ran up to them and dropped to her knees and hugged Brutus around his big shoulders and neck. When she looked up at him, Brent was surprised to see tears brimming in her eyes.
“He hasn’t been able to run for months,” she said with a tremulous smile. “I couldn’t stop him. He wanted to help you.”
A lump formed in Brent’s throat. “I know,” he said and tried to tell Gabrie with his eyes he understood what she was feeling. He knew what it took out of the old dog to help him. Brent patted the dog’s head with one hand and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with the other. Godfrey had hit him on the same side of the mouth as his previous injuries, and it hurt like hell. He looked around for his hat and spotted it flattened into the ground. Brent didn’t know if a can had rolled over it or if Brutus had stomped on it, but it was definitely ruined.
Brent looked at Godfrey, who was backing away from the dog. “Get him away from me,” Godfrey shouted again.
“First, tell me… where is my dog?”
“He’s standing right beside you,” Godfrey said, fear and fury flashing in his eyes.
“No, that’s her dog.” Brent pointed toward Gabrielle.
“What dog are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Godfrey. You know the small dog I’m talking about. I paid you to be on the lookout for my Pomeranian. I know you returned Lord Snellingly’s and Lord Waldo’s dogs, so where is mine?”
“I’ll tell you.”
Brent turned and saw one of Godfrey’s sisters standing a short distance away. The misting rain fell on her white mobcap and straight shoulders. Brent didn’t know when it had started to rain.
“You stay quiet, Emily,” Godfrey said. “You don’t have anything to say.”
The girl didn’t even look at her brother. “Just don’t let the big dog hurt him again, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Gabrielle rose to stand beside Brent and said, “Brutus didn’t hurt him and will not hurt him. He only wanted to stop Godfrey from running away. He’s big but a gentle dog.”
“Don’t say anything, Em,” Godfrey ordered. “This doesn’t involve you.”
The slender brown-eyed girl walked closer. “Yes, it does. We all took the dog that day. No one ever knew. It was easy to keep all the dogs quiet in the wagon. We just kept putting milk in a bowl for them. Your dog is inside the house with our mother.”
Relief washed through Brent like water rushing over stones in a brook. Prissy was alive.
Gabrielle grabbed his arm and squeezed it as she leaned against his side. “Thank God,” she whispered. “You’ve found her.”
“You can’t have her back,” Godfrey spat at him.
“We’ll see about that,” Brent muttered. He turned to the girl. �
��Where is your mother?”
“Wait, Brent,” Gabrielle said. “Why don’t you talk to him first and let him tell his story.”
Gabrielle had pulled the hood of her black velvet cloak over her bonnet, and looking at her, Brent saw the intriguing, gorgeous, and tempting young lady he met in the park weeks ago, who said to him, “You talk softly to dogs just like you do to people.”
She pulled a handkerchief out of her muff and handed it to him. He looked from Godfrey to the girl, and then back to Gabrielle as he pressed her handkerchief to the corner of his mouth. He supposed with his adventures with Gabrielle, he was destined to lose his hats and have a cut lip.
Brent turned toward Godfrey and said, “Tell us why you took the dogs.”
The lad nervously wiped rain from his face, and Brent was reminded how young he was.
“It wasn’t my fault you lost her,” he said belligerently. “She was just wandering around in the park that morning when we were heading home. She started following us, so I put her in the wagon. We planned to take her back to the park the next day, but me mum thought I’d brought the dog home for her, and I couldn’t tell her I didn’t.”
“She’s sick,” the girl said.
“What is wrong with her?” Gabrielle asked.
The girl shrugged and shook her head.
“It don’t matter what’s wrong with her,” Godfrey said angrily. “She fell in love with that dog the moment she saw it. I couldn’t take it away from her.”
“What about the other dogs?” Gabrielle asked. “Why take them?”
Godfrey looked at Brent and pointed his finger at him. “He gave me money just to look for the dog and said there’d be more if I found it. I was thinking maybe other lords and gentlemen would pay me for finding their dogs, too. I took them so I could return them.”
“So you decided to start yourself a little business of stealing dogs,” Brent said, finding it difficult to feel sorry for the lad.
“We’re trying to get enough money to pay a doctor to come see our mum,” Emily said.
“I told you to hush up, girl,” Godfrey snapped.
“Godfrey,” Gabrielle said, stepping forward. “That is no way to speak to your sister. Can we go inside and see your mother?”
“No,” he said, walking closer to them for the first time. Fear returned to his eyes. “Don’t tell me mum what I did. I’ll find a way to pay back the money.”
“How?” Brent asked. “By stealing more dogs or maybe stealing something else next time?”
“I’m not a thief,” Godfrey said, tears pooling in his eyes. “I gave the dogs back. I couldn’t give yours back.”
“Godfrey, one way or the other, we’re going in to see your mama whether or not you want us to.”
The lad swallowed hard and then suddenly hung his head and said, “Come on.”
Brent, Gabrielle, and Brutus followed Godfrey and Emily down the street to one of the small houses. Gabrie told Brutus to stay outside. As soon as Godfrey touched the door, Prissy started barking. They stepped inside a one-room house. Prissy ran toward Brent, barking like the hounds of hell were after her.
Brent bent down and the little dog jumped up into his arms and started licking his face. He patted and rubbed her head and hugged her to him as he laughed. “How’ve you been, girl?”
“Godfrey, son, why in God’s name have you invited these nice-looking people into our home? You know I’m not receiving guests.”
Brent looked past Prissy and saw a woman who didn’t look much older than he, sitting up in a bed that stood in the far corner of the room. She was wrapped in a heavy cloak, and several blankets lay across the bed. The woman was pale and frail-looking. Her long, graying hair hung limply on her shoulders. Emily joined her other sister in a corner, and Godfrey immediately started putting more wood on the fading fire.
“Please excuse us, Mrs.…?” Gabrielle said.
“Jones,” she said weakly. “I’m Mrs. Carlton Jones, but my husband is no longer with us. He died almost two years ago now.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Gabrielle said.
“Prissy acts as if she knows you,” the woman said, looking at Brent. “Godfrey told me that was her name. He’s the one who gave Prissy to me. The name suits her, don’t you think so?”
“Yes, it does,” Brent said, tucking the little dog under his arm.
“But I’ve never seen you before. Em, go heat some water and make these nice people some tea. Godfrey, stop poking that fire and pull the chairs over so they can sit down and tell me why they’ve come.”
“No, no, please don’t trouble your daughter for us,” Brent said, rubbing Prissy. “We can’t stay long enough for tea.”
Pris squirmed, whined, and wanted to get down, so Brent set her on the floor. She ran back over to the woman and put her front paws on the bed. The woman reached down and lifted Prissy up on the bed with her. Brent watched in surprise as Prissy made herself comfortable in the woman’s lap.
“Well, that’s a shame. What can I do for you, Mr.…?”
“Brentwood, madame,” he said, not wanting the woman to know he was a viscount. “Just call me Brentwood, and this is Lady Gabrielle.”
The woman’s eyes rounded in surprise. “A real lady?” She looked at Gabrielle and then brushed a tangled strand of hair away from her shoulder and straightened her bed coat. “Godfrey told me he was working for someone who paid him well.” She stopped and looked at Brent. “It’s you, isn’t it? He also told me he was working for a man who gave Prissy to him. Are you the kind man who did that?”
Brent cleared his throat. “No, madame, I did not give Prissy to him.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised, and started rubbing Prissy’s back.
Gabrielle touched Brent’s arm. “May I talk to you? Alone.”
“No, Gabrie. I know what you are going to say, and no.”
Gabrielle smiled at the woman and said, “Would you excuse us, Mrs. Jones? We’re going to step outside for a moment. We’ll be right back.”
The sickly woman looked puzzled. “All right.”
Brent opened the door for Gabrielle, and she stepped outside into the rain. Brutus came walking over to stand between them.
“I know what you are going to say, and just don’t do it,” Brent argued before she even opened her mouth.
“I will say it. Brent, you can’t tell that woman what Godfrey did. You are not an uncaring person, and you can see she is far too ill to hear that about her son on top of your taking Prissy away from her.”
“What are you saying? I have to tell her, Gabrielle. He stole dogs and extorted money. That’s against the law.”
Gabrielle blinked rapidly, as if she didn’t understand him. “But he was trying to get enough money for a doctor to help his mother. It might have been the wrong thing to do, but it was for a very good reason.”
“That doesn’t make it right. If he isn’t punished for doing this, he might do it again, or do something worse next time.”
She moistened her lips. “I agree he needs some type of punishment, but that doesn’t mean his mother has to know. He said he would pay back the money, and that can be his punishment.”
“Pay it back with what, Gabrie?” Brent said, exasperated as the chilling, misting rain fell on his hatless head. “He has no money.”
“You can give him a job and let him work it off.”
“Me?” She was unbelievable! “Me, give a job to the wretched little thief who stole my dog?”
“All right, I’ll give him a job. He not only needs to pay back Lord Snellingly and Lord Waldo, but once he gets enough money for a doctor to see his mother, I’m sure he will need money for some type of medicines or tonics or something.”
“Fine, you give him a job,” Brent said a little too sharply, and she flinched at his harsh tone. Brent took a deep breath. He didn’t like arguing with Gabrielle. “You give him a job,” he said in a softer tone. “I’m going to get Prissy and go home.”
G
abrielle lowered her lashes over her eyes. “I’ll wait out here with Brutus.”
He walked back into the house. The woman’s eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brentwood, Godfrey just told me he found the dog in the park and she is your dog and you have come for her. I understand.”
She picked Prissy up off her lap and sat her down on the floor. Now Brent felt like a wretch. Why did the woman have to be sick?
“Come, Prissy.” The Pomeranian just looked at him. Pris had always been stubborn. “Come on, girl, let’s go.” Prissy barked once and started toward him. He bent down to scoop her up, but she quickly barked again and then turned around and ran back to the bed. She lifted her front paws on the bed and barked at the woman.
“Shoo—Prissy. Your master has come for you. Shoo now, you must go with him.”
Brent stared at Prissy, who was begging the woman to pick her up and put her on the bed, and for a moment he saw his mother. That was exactly how Prissy used to demand his mother put her on the bed. Brent’s heart softened. He thought about all the times the dog had gotten him up early, barked at the moon, and scratched on his door. Had he kept Prissy only because of his mother? He had missed the little mutt when she first disappeared, so he must have some feelings for the dog.
It hardly mattered anymore. Prissy was making her choice. She wanted to stay, and he was going to allow it. Somehow, he knew his mother would want this woman to have Prissy.
“You keep her, Mrs. Jones. She seems quite taken with you.”
A hopeful expression rounded her dark-circled eyes. “Oh, I couldn’t take her from you. I’m just happy we were able to keep her safe until you found out where she was.” She looked at Prissy. “You stop holding up your master. Now go.”
Brent walked over and picked up the little dog and gave her a hug. Prissy licked his face again and barked. He then placed the dog in Mrs. Jones’s lap.
“No, Mrs. Jones, she’s your dog now. You’ve taken excellent care of her. I’ll keep up with her through Godfrey.”
Mrs. Jones smiled gratefully and lovingly stroked Prissy’s back. “I don’t know how to thank you.”