Chapter 29
Concerning Wobbly Jelly, Muddiness, and Mussing; And the Consequences of Scandal …
The carriage ride back to Kinsale House was painfully awkward and quiet.
Two sullen boys, a muddy and mortified governess, one brooding muddy marquess, and his chastened muddy pug did not make for convivial company.
Indeed, Mina thought the atmosphere was as dark and ponderous as the rain clouds now blanketing London and releasing a veritable deluge.
Tom and Christopher were, of course, disappointed beyond measure that their Great Exhibition adventure had ended before it had even really begun. Promises that they would be taken on a sunnier day did not seem to mollify either of them.
Christopher, when questioned, revealed that he’d snuck Mr. Hopwell under his mackintosh when they’d been getting ready for their outing and Mina hadn’t been looking.
The boy reported that he didn’t want his rabbit to miss out on all the fun and that’s why he’d brought him along.
But Mina rather suspected he was still being plagued by Queen Mab in his dreams, so he’d brought the much-loved toy along for comfort.
She couldn’t blame the poor child for that.
As for Brutus, he was as unrepentant as could be.
He’d told Mina that he knew Christopher had concealed Mr. Hopwell beneath his clothes—the pug had caught the toy rabbit’s scent—and so when the rabbit had fallen out, he’d pounced.
Lord Kinsale had been right and the pug had been making his way home to Eaton Square.
Mina had caught sight of Brutus trotting along Sloane Street, so she’d made Lord Kinsale stop the carriage to let the dog in.
“You’re too soft on the wee bugger,” Lord Kinsale had complained as the pug had jumped up onto the seat beside his master. Nevertheless, he’d run a gloved hand over Brutus’s sodden, muddy back as the dog lay down and put his head between his paws.
Mina suspected that the only way to assuage Brutus’s natural tendencies would be to provide him with other sorts of toys he could quite happily rip and pull and shake to pieces.
Perhaps a rope rabbit might do the trick.
But it was a project she’d tackle later.
She had more pressing problems to deal with right now.
As soon as she repaired to her bedroom, which she did immediately upon returning to Kinsale House, she employed the Unsmirchify spell on Mr. Hopwell, and then to restore her governess’s uniform, and indeed her entire appearance to what it should be—prim, proper, and perfectly presentable.
Even her “non-regulation” ringlets disappeared and her sleek, neat bun returned.
And then Mina did what she didn’t want to but most definitely had to.
She pulled out her ley-spectacles and a piece of parchment and hastily penned a te-ley-gram with her te-ley-pen—a special fountain pen filled with blue Faerillion ink, used expressly for the purpose of writing leygrams—that she’d send to the headmistress of the Parasol Academy.
Dear Mrs. Temple,
Would it be possible to meet with you this afternoon?
It seems I urgently require your wise counsel about several matters of great importance.
Matters which are directly related to the safety of a child and indeed, the preservation of the Parasol Academy’s pristine reputation, which, I greatly fear, may be at risk because of my actions—actions which I take full responsibility for.
I am currently at Kinsale House but I’m certain my employer would grant me leave to visit you at the Academy’s headquarters.
I await your direction.
Yours sincerely,
Hermina Davenport
Mina sighed shakily as she put down her pen on her writing slope.
Then, before she could change her mind—because internally, she was trembling like a barely set jelly—she folded up the parchment, slid it into an envelope, then cast the Fae spell that would send the leygram straight to Mrs. Temple’s office.
“Leygram Sendio, Felicity Temple,” she whispered and the magical telegram promptly disappeared in a puff of shimmering silvery-blue mist.
If that missive didn’t catch Mrs. Temple’s immediate attention, nothing would.
Now, while Mina waited for the headmistress to respond, she just had to face Lord Kinsale, who’d requested her presence in the drawing room as soon as she was ready.
Ready? Ready for what? That’s the operative question, Mina’s mind whispered as she descended the stairs to meet with her employer.
Although, deep down she knew what was about to happen.
It seemed her wobbly-as-a-jelly state was not likely to end for at least another few hours.
There was going to be a scandal. Of epic proportions.
Phinn knew that, right down to his very bones. Indeed, he’d known it from the very moment he’d accidentally fallen face-first straight into Mina Davenport’s lap.
He’d known it was an absolute certainty as he’d risen to his feet, covered in mud, and had then recognized several faces of fellow peers in the crowd—gentlemen he’d encountered at White’s and Boodle’s and other places about town.
Men who were sniggering at what he’d done and Miss Davenport’s thoroughly besmirched state. And besmirched in more ways than one.
Every part of him had vibrated with the need to wipe the knowing smirks off their faces with his fists.
But he hadn’t, and while he’d attempted to physically shield Miss Davenport from those leers and horrified whispers in those awful moments, obscuring the crowd’s view of her with his own body probably hadn’t done much at all.
He didn’t even want to think about the fact that he’d been a complete eejit and had made everything that much worse by calling out Miss Davenport’s name right before he’d ruined the governess’s respectability in an irreparable way.
He still couldn’t quite believe he’d planted his face right between the governess’s thighs!
Good God.
No, feckin’ hell. And how doubly unfair that his most treasured fantasy had been turned into a waking nightmare? He’d dreamed of being between Miss Davenport’s thighs for so, so long, but not in that way.
There was no question in Phinn’s mind: There was only one thing he could do to ensure that Miss Mina Davenport’s reputation wasn’t completely and utterly ruined forevermore. There was only one course of action he could take to protect her.
Which was why he’d summoned her to the drawing room as soon as she’d de-muddified herself.
To give her the chance to bathe and change in peace, Tom and Christopher, still as glum as could be—poor lads—were currently ensconced in the kitchen with Mrs. Dunkley, scarfing down cake and warm milk to drown their sorrows.
Cake and warm milk would not be enough to quell Phinn’s jitters, though, considering what he was about to do. As he waited for Mina Davenport, impatience and nerves gnawing at his gut, he poured himself an Irish whisky.
Sweet Jaysus, his hands were shaking as he sloshed a good measure of the potent alcohol into a crystal tumbler. He tossed it back, then raked his hand through his hair, which was still damp from his own bath.
There’d been something about Miss Davenport’s demeanor in the carriage on the way back to Kinsale House that had set alarm bells clanging at the back of Phinn’s mind.
While she’d no doubt been upset about the whole embarrassing “Hyde Park” incident, he had the feeling there was something else going on, like he was on the brink of finding out something quite significant about Mina Davenport. Something she didn’t want him to know.
The mantel clock was just striking half past two when there was a knock on the drawing room door.
A moment later, Miss Davenport entered and curtsied most formally, which rankled Phinn no end.
He didn’t want the woman he admired so very greatly—the woman he, in fact, adored—to act so subserviently around him.
But then, if he had his way, she wouldn’t be curtsying for much longer.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, my lord,” she said, watching him with wary eyes. Miss Davenport wasn’t usually so guarded in his presence, so it made Phinn even more determined to find out what was really going on in that clever mind of hers.
She’d donned a fresh uniform and restyled her thick chestnut hair into the plain-as-could-be bun that she typically wore.
Indeed, her appearance was “Parasol-Academy-immaculate” and Phinn had the sudden, almost irresistible urge to sweep her into his arms and muss her up.
Her hair, her bodice, her skirts, her composure.
Everything. He wanted her unguarded and vulnerable and flushed and breathless and messy and his, goddammit.
Hopefully soon.
Aloud he said, “No. Not-not at all, Miss Davenport,” then motioned for her to come into the room. The footmen stationed outside in the hall had already closed the double doors. “Please, take a seat. We … we have much to discuss.”
“Yes …” The governess approached the hearth and chose the settee closest to the fire. She sat primly, straight as a ruler with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Phinn didn’t fail to observe that her knuckles were white and her countenance was as pale as parchment.
What was she so frightened of? Surely not him?
Frowning, Phinn took the leather wing chair closest to her. “Miss Davenport. Mina,” he began. “I feel as though we need to have … have a frank talk after what transpired this afternoon. There’s no get-gettin’ round it. It’s a scandal in the makin’.”
She raised her eyes to his. “I agree,” she said, lifting her chin, her expression nothing but stoic.
“It was indeed unfortunate that events unfolded the way that they did. And perhaps it was foolish of me to try to save Christopher’s rabbit.
But then neither you nor I could have predicted that you would”—Miss Davenport’s cheeks turned as red as holly berries—“that you would trip over and land … well, in such an eyebrow-raising fashion. While it was all a terrible accident, and no one’s fault, given there were so many witnesses to our mishap, there will be consequences. ”
Pausing, she drew a breath. “With that in mind, I have contacted Mrs. Temple to let her know what has happened. I expect she will shortly reach out to me—either to meet with me here at Kinsale House or she’ll summon me to the Parasol Academy.
I was seen—in uniform—by other Parasol Academy nannies and governesses, and if this incident ends up in the newspapers, as I fear it will, Mrs. Temple will need to control the damage.
The Academy has a Royal Charter bestowed by Queen Victoria herself, so maintaining its pristine reputation is paramount.
” She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands.
“My lord, I strongly suspect that I shall lose my license to practice as a governess in the Parasol Academy’s name.
I-I thought you should know that, considering you hired me, in part, because of my credentials. ”
Phinn’s chest tightened. He didn’t like seeing Miss Davenport brought so low.
And this entire debacle really wasn’t her fault.
It made him even more determined to fix things.
“I-I do understand the gravity of the situation, Miss Davenport … Mina. Which is why I’m goin’ to propose a solution to help manage the scan-scandal.
To perhaps even put … put it to bed entirely. ”
She lifted her gaze to his. “How? What could you possibly do to make it all go away?”
He smiled and his heart began to thrum with sweet expectation. “I thought the answer was obvious, my darlin’ Mina. You’ll marry me.”