Chapter 11 #2
Mina smiled. “I’m sure she did a fine job, my lord.
As for the room …” She cast her gaze about the chamber as well.
“I think it should suffice. There’s certainly enough space and an adequate number of tables and chairs.
Although, I might need to purchase a few more books and stationery supplies.
You know, suitable text and exercise books and novels as well as slate boards and chalk and pencils and notebooks, et cetera. ”
Lord Kinsale waved an expansive hand. “O’ course. P-p-purchase whatever you n-n-need, Miss Dav-Davenport. I have a man of b-b-business who can set up accounts at var-various stores. Just let me know their n-n-names and I will arrange … arrange it.”
Mina dipped into another curtsy. “Thank you so much, my lord. Your consideration is very appreciated.”
The marquess smiled and Mina’s pulse began to frantically flutter about like a butterfly caught in a net.
“You’re very wel-welcome.” Moving closer, he then lowered his voice as he added, “I hope you don’t m-m-mind, but I’ve sent for me tailor to visit Kin-Kinsale House tomorrow mornin’.
Tom requires m-m-more clothes and … I did wonder if your son—” A faint flush suddenly tinted Lord Kinsale’s cheekbones.
“Par-pardon me, your cousin, might need a few more items o’ clothing as well. ”
“Oh …” Mina found herself blushing too as she found herself trapped in the Irishman’s emerald-green eyes. Could this man be any more thoughtful?
Steeling oneself not to respond to this man’s charms was proving to be more difficult by the minute.
As soon as Mina returned to her bedchamber to unpack, she would dig out the Parasol Academy Handbook and reread the section (in the sternest voice she could muster) on the perils of employee-employer fraternization.
“Miss Dav-Davenport? Would that be all right?” The marquess cocked a dark brow and his mouth tilted into an appealing lopsided grin. The amused twinkle in his eyes (perhaps they were more of a shamrock green than emerald) seemed to say, I know you’re affected by me.
Damn it!
Damn it? Did I really just think that? Mina had never uttered such a vulgar curse in her own head before and she couldn’t deny that she was shocked.
It seemed that Lord Kinsale was turning her every which way except the right way, and if her countenance was only pink before, surely it was now redder than a boiled beet, considering how hot her face felt.
Mina’s voice was mortifyingly husky as she said, “I … er … Yes, that would be perfectly all right, my lord. And more than generous. What-what time will your tailor be here?”
“Ten … ten o’clock,” said the marquess. “He’ll be seein’ me after that. Me valet, Frobisher, insists that I need a few new bits and—”
A shrill cry from Christopher cut Lord Kinsale off. “Miss Davenport! Miss Davenport!” the boy cried, pointing at the hallway beyond the schoolroom door. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with panic. “Brutus has Mr. Hopwell!”
Oh no!
Mina whirled around and sure enough, the wicked pug had the mauve velvet rabbit in his mouth. The dog’s large black eyes gleamed with impudent glee as he pranced on the spot for a moment.
Catch me if ye can, Miss Davenport, Brutus taunted before he took off, disappearing from view.
“Brutus!” bellowed Lord Kinsale as he bolted through the doorway. Mina, close on his heels, was followed by Tom and a distraught Christopher. “Stop, you-you wee dev-devil of a dog!”
But the pug did not heed his master. Mina could see that the dog was already at the end of the hall, near the top of the stairs. Too slow, Miss Davenport! he called as he proceeded to leap down the staircase, faster than a rat darting out of the Fleet Ditch.
“Brutus! Stop!” cried Mina in her best schoolmarm’s voice. Picking up her skirts, she hurtled after Lord Kinsale and his dog down the stairs. In her mind she added, What has young Christopher or Mr. Hopwell ever done to you to deserve such ill treatment?
All feckin’ rabbits must die! Brutus rejoined with savage delight as he paused on the first-floor landing. Catching Mina’s eye, he then growled and shook the toy, raising a wail from Christopher. Especially purple velvet ones with floppy ears an’ button eyes an’ ridiculous fluffy pom-pom tails.
“You wait ’til I g-g-get my hands on you, you wee bug-bugger,” growled Lord Kinsale back, as he somehow took the stairs two at a time. “You’ll be sleepin’ outside and eatin’ nothin’ but scraps for a whole week.”
But nothing would slow Brutus down. He took off again, barreling down the remaining set of stairs to the entry hall on the ground floor below. And then it sounded as though all hell had broken loose. There was a man’s shout, a high-pitched scream, and then a crash.
“Brutus!” yelled the marquess. When Mina reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw that the dog had managed to bowl over a maid, and a few yards beyond, a porcelain bust had been knocked off its pillar and lay fractured upon the marble floor.
Smedley looked on, arms crossed, shaking his head in apparent disgust.
“Jaysus,” muttered Lord Kinsale in a tone graveled with frustrated anger. He paused to help up the maid, but Mina rushed past.
“Which way did Brutus go, Smedley?” she managed, even though she was more than a tad breathless.
The butler sighed and pointed through a set of open double doors. “Into the drawing room. But the maids were cleaning in there, so I suspect the French doors leading onto the terrace are open.”
Blast and blinking hell! Deciding she had no time to admonish herself for mentally firing off yet another round of frowned-upon curses, Mina continued on.
“Don’t worry. I’ll rescue Mr. Hopwell,” she called back to Christopher, who’d paused at the bottom of the stairs.
He was crying, but Tom had touchingly wrapped his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders.
Even though Tom had proclaimed he wasn’t the “hugging sort,” it was lovely to see that he wasn’t afraid to comfort another.
By the time Mina reached the French doors, Lord Kinsale had caught up to her.
“I’m so s-s-sorry, Miss Dav-Davenport,” he said, his gaze frantically scanning the back garden.
It had begun to rain—not heavily, but the light shower made it harder to see into the farthest corners and shadowy places beneath hedges and bushes.
“I d-d-don’t know what has got-gotten into Brutus. He’s not u-usually like this.”
“It’s not your fault, my lord,” Mina returned as she watched for any sign of movement.
Any flash of purple. There were so many potential hidey-holes for a small dog: At the end of a flagstone path in the center of the lawn stood a large and elegant stone fountain; at least a dozen marble statues were positioned like sentinels along the line of two towering hedges at the walled garden’s side perimeters; several thickly trunked beech trees shaded the terrace; and a densely planted rose garden lay at the very back.
“Dogs will be dogs.” In her mind she called out, Brutus, if you come back to the terrace right now, I’ll give you a bone. Maybe even a Bath bun.
She didn’t want to reward bad behavior, but she was beginning to feel desperate.
Huh, as if I’m goin’ to believe that malarkey, returned the pug.
Mina moved farther out onto the terrace, squinting into the rain. While she couldn’t see Brutus, she sensed he was nearby. It’s not much of a chase if you hide, she called out. Where’s the fun in that?
Lord Kinsale suddenly reached out and laid a large hand on Mina’s arm. “There,” he whispered. “He’s be-behind the f-f-fountain. Why don’t we try to trap … trap him? You round the ri-right side, and I’ll appro-approach him from the left. Per-perhaps we can catch him in the mid-middle.”
“Good idea, my lord,” Mina whispered back. In truth, she was terribly disconcerted by the nearness of the marquess. The light touch of his hand seemed to penetrate the wool sleeve of her uniform, making the skin beneath tingle and burn with awareness.
But how Lord Kinsale made her feel when he was close should not signify. She had to get Mr. Hopwell back in one piece. If that toy rabbit was damaged or even—heaven forbid—completely ruined by Brutus, Mina knew Christopher would be inconsolable.
With a gesture and a nod, Lord Kinsale indicated that both of them should begin their covert rabbit rescue mission.
As stealthily as she could, Mina descended to the rain-misted lawn and began to sneak along the hedge line, making her way toward the fountain.
Two chubby-cheeked cherubs wielding bows and arrows—cupids perhaps—sat atop the fountain’s central sculpture.
Glancing over to the opposite side of the garden, Mina could see that Lord Kinsale was keeping pace with her.
No doubt Brutus could detect their approach. He’d have a keen sense of hearing and smell. Aside from tiptoeing and employing a two-pronged strike, Mina suspected additional ploys would be required to foil the wily pug.
Drat this rain. I really should go back inside and speak with the marquess’s cook about the boys’ dinner, said Mina in her head, but loud enough for Brutus to hear. I wonder if there are any sausages in the larder. Big fat juicy ones …
Sausages? came the excited response. Mina could almost see Brutus’s head cocking to one side. Will there be sausages for dinner?
Mina and Lord Kinsale were almost level with the fountain now. She paused and put up a hand to halt the marquess’s advance. To Brutus, Mina replied, Only for those who behave themselves. You know what you need to do, Brutus. Hand Mr. Hopwell over to Lord Kinsale or to me—
A low, frustrated growl emanated from behind the fountain. Feck, feck, feckity-feck. Then, No, I cannot be doin’ it. Besides, the master has already declared I’ll be gettin’ scraps for the week. I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb …