Chapter 28 #2
“It does indeed sound remarkable,” said Mina, returning her attention to Christopher and Tom, who’d wandered closer to the dinosaurs.
A footman, the one who’d helped the boys out of the carriage, stood nearby, keeping a watchful eye out too.
Brutus, who’d followed the boys, sat close to Christopher’s galoshes.
“It’s a pity we—” She broke off, but Lord Kinsale knew what she’d been going to say.
“I know,” he murmured. “It’s … It’s a pity we can’t kiss all the time.
” Mina felt Lord Kinsale’s gaze on her and she couldn’t help herself—she turned her head.
And when her eyes met the marquess’s, he smiled so beautifully, her heart somersaulted in her chest. “Mina … what if … what if there was a way that we could make that happen? What if … what if we threw all caution to the wind and we just decided that nothin’ else mat—”
At that moment, there was a loud shriek. Christopher?
Oh, dear God! Mina’s head whipped over to the commotion taking place in front of the Megalosaurus. And her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Brutus and Christopher were involved in a tug of war over Mr. Hopwell.
Mr. Hopwell! What on earth was the stuffed toy doing here? Hadn’t Christopher left it in his room at Kinsale House?
The pug’s teeth were firmly buried in one of the mauve velvet rabbit’s legs while Christopher had a hold of the toy’s ears. “Let go, Brutus!” the boy cried, his face red with exertion as angry tears spilled down his cheeks. “Let go!”
All the while, Tom was waving a stick at the pug and yelling, “You bleedin’ li’l blighter! You li’l gobshite! Let go!”
Mina and Lord Kinsale both started forward at the same time—they only had to cross ten yards of wet, manicured lawn to reach the kerfuffle.
But the lawn was slippery underfoot and a moment before the marquess—his stride was naturally longer than Mina’s—reached the warring boy and pug, Christopher slipped, lost his grip, and fell backward onto his bottom.
And Brutus was off, a tan-and-black streak of lightning across Hyde Park.
Oh no! Not another wild pug chase!
“Brutus!” yelled Lord Kinsale as he followed in hot pursuit.
“Save Mr. Hopwell, Miss Davenport,” cried a frantic Christopher, who’d already scrambled to his feet.
“Don’t worry. I will.” Mina threw her open umbrella to the footman—it would only slow her down—picked up her skirts and bolted after the marquess and his thieving, runaway dog. “Look after the boys,” she cried over her shoulder to the gaping servant.
She had to rescue Mr. Hopwell. The mauve velvet rabbit was so very precious to darling Christopher. He’d be inconsolable if the pug actually did rip it to pieces. And then of course, the sooner she got the toy back, the better. Sir Bedivere knew his ward had a toy purple rabbit.
If Cheavers or his hired men were in Hyde Park and noticed it …
Lord Kinsale was a swift runner, but courtesy of her Parasol Academy training, Mina was faster.
Spurred on by rising panic, she quickly caught up to the marquess and then sprinted past him.
Brutus, the wee gobshite, was flying over the ground, his small black ears and Mr. Hopwell’s long mauve ones flapping wildly in the breeze.
Mina hurled a mental command at the dog. Brutus! Stop right now!
Ha! As if I would! Ye’ll never catch me, taunted the pug. This feckin’ rabbit is a goner.
Not bloody likely. Even though her thighs and lungs were burning, Mina would not give up. She forced herself to run even faster, hurtling across the wet, muddy grass, praying she wouldn’t slip and topple over.
The pug was keeping to the banks of the Serpentine, skirting the edge of the enormous lake, so it was easy to keep track of him. Mina was grateful he hadn’t scarpered off into the knots of park visitors and exhibition-goers. There was a very real chance she would lose sight of him altogether then.
But it seemed Brutus was flagging. After his initial burst of speed, his stocky little legs appeared to be growing tired as he started to slow down.
Despite her own fatigue, Mina’s determination spurred her on.
The pug was only a yard or two away now.
If she increased her pace, if she threw herself forward and rugby tackled the dog …
She did. With a cry, she hurled her whole body at Brutus and one of her gloved hands came down on his back. The pug stumbled, went down, and as Mina fell to the ground, she yanked the mauve rabbit from the dog’s jaws.
Thank the Fae.
Chest heaving, rescued rabbit in hand, she rolled over to her back, preparing to push herself up into a sitting position. Ack. It seemed she’d landed on a particularly boggy part of the Serpentine’s banks. But before she could even assess the damage to her person, she heard a masculine shout.
“Feck! Look out, Miss Davenport!” The next thing she knew Lord Kinsale was skidding in the mud but four feet away from her, arms flailing, booted feet sliding like he’d hit a patch of ice. And then he plummeted to earth headfirst, his face landing squarely in the middle of her lap.
Her lap. Right between her legs.
Oh. My. God.
Mina gasped. Not because Lord Kinsale had hurt her, but because of the shocking, thoroughly outrageous reality of having a man plant his face right in her most private of places in the most public of places.
And public it was. Mina sensed a small crowd of onlookers had gathered about.
She could hear the titters and appalled gasps and whispers slipping out from behind gloved hands and from beneath umbrellas.
As Lord Kinsale raised his mud-streaked face from between her spread thighs, his dark hair dripping in his shamrock-green eyes, she knew her own face was burning with mortification.
“Mina … I’m so feckin’ sorry,” he breathed raggedly.
He was still out of breath like she was.
But the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the wild thudding of her heart wasn’t just a result of her mad sprint, but a symptom of something else—the feelings a prim and proper lady “must not name.” Because what sort of a woman would she be if she’d already secretly entertained the idea of having Lord Kinsale between her thighs?
That the whole notion wasn’t all that shocking or outrageous at all?
A Parasol Academy governess certainly shouldn’t think that way.
She tried to scramble up as Lord Kinsale lurched to his feet, and somehow, one of the marquess’s gloved hands came into contact with her bodice, leaving behind a large muddy hand-print on her left breast. It stood out starkly against the pale gray of her shawl.
Could this situation get any worse?
By the time Lord Kinsale had helped Mina up, her cheeks were so aflame with embarrassment even the cold rain couldn’t put them out.
But at least she had Mr. Hopwell.
“Are-are you all right?” asked Lord Kinsale, standing between her and the crowd to shield her from all the snickers and prying eyes. “You took quite a tumble.”
Wrenching off her stained shawl, Mina nodded. “Apart from a few bruises and my ruined reputation, I’m fine,” she said with a pained grimace. Then she glanced about. “Did you see where Brutus went? I hope he doesn’t get lost.”
Heedless of the mud on his gloves, Lord Kinsale dragged a hand through his hair. “That feckin’ dog,” he muttered. “If … if he does get lost, it will be his own feckin’ fault. But I suspect he knows his way home. It’s less … less than a mile to Eaton Square from here.”
“We’d best get back to Christopher and Tom then,” Mina said. She wrapped the filthy but largely intact Mr. Hopwell in her shawl. “I’m sure Christopher is eager to hear the good news that his rabbit is safe.”
But Mina wasn’t so sure that she wasn’t in danger.
And Christopher. As she and Lord Kinsale retraced their steps to the Dinosaur Court, a creeping sense of dread invaded her.
Even though she hadn’t noticed Cheavers in the crowd—his distinctive bristle-brush facial hair would be sure to stand out—one of his hirelings might be lurking somewhere in the Park, watching.
Just as worrying was the fact she’d spotted several Parasol Academy graduates in their distinctive uniforms. And they’d certainly have spotted her, in the mud, with a man’s face in her lap and his handprint on her breast.
What’s more, they would have seen that Mina was from the Parasol Academy even if they didn’t know her personally.
While she’d pulled off her soiled shawl to repair her appearance somewhat, she’d inadvertently revealed her uniform.
And Lord Kinsale, just before he’d fallen on her, had cried out her name.
There was no doubt in her mind that Mrs. Temple would be hearing about this. And given the crowd, there was every chance it might even end up in the newspapers. Others might recognize she was from the Parasol Academy. Certain people might even identify the Marquess of Kinsale.
This incident was a monumental scandal in the making and there was nothing at all that Mina could do to stop it.
She just prayed that her name wasn’t linked to Lord Kinsale’s in the papers—or by anyone who worked for Sir Bedivere who might have been on the lookout for her and Christopher in Hyde Park—because if the baronet heard about the connection, he would know where to find her … and his missing ward.
Only the Fae knew what would happen then.