“Mr. Grimm?” #3
“Debbie!” Nigel cried even as she crashed into it, wings flapping and tangling up in satin.
Nigel grabbed for her, ignoring the scrape of claws on exposed skin, and yanked her back.
This knocked both dress and hanger off the rail and sent the whole thing plopping to the floor in a bundle, Debbie still tangled up in its folds.
“What is going on back here?” Luna’s voice cried out. Nigel turned and saw her at the counter, setting down the tea tray. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, the bird, and the dress. With a little, “Oh!” she flipped up the hinged portion of the counter.
“Miss Talbot!” Nigel gasped, yanking Debbie out from the dress firmly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over the fool bird!”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no . . .” Luna sidled past him and dropped to her knees, trembling hands gathering up the satin bundle of gown.
“Oh no, Myrna’s going to kill me! And . .
. Green Mother alive!” She held the dress up by its shoulders, displaying the bodice and the ugly smear down the front.
Turning sharply, she fixed Debbie with a furious glare, even as the bird wrestled free of Nigel’s grasp and returned to her pot.
“You fool bird, you went and messed all over it!”
Nigel grimaced, taking in the damage. Sure enough, several awful white bird-dropping stains smeared the shiny fabric. “Debbie!” he growled, whirling on the bird, who clacked her beak at him smugly. “This is unacceptable,” he scolded, shaking a finger at her beak.
She grinned after a raven fashion, looking singularly unrepentant.
“Oh no, oh no.” Luna rocked a little where she sat, her hands shaking. “Oh, what am I going to do? I can’t go to the ball in this!”
Nigel crouched beside her, putting out a hand to finger a fold of the dress. “Can you wash it?” he asked softly.
“With what, dish soap?” she snapped.
He shrugged. “Do you happen to have a tea that’s good for bird scat?”
Luna flashed him a short glare before looking down at the dress again.
Her distress was palpable. Despite the protests she’d initially uttered in answer to Ward’s invitation, she must truly want to go to this ball.
And why shouldn’t she? After all the difficulties she’d endured in recent history, she deserved a glamorous night out.
Bryony’s voice lingered in Nigel’s ear: “If I were you, I’d find a way to stiffen that noodle of yours before she rides off into the sunset with her hunky wardsman.”
But no. What he really needed to do right now was demonstrate to this woman that he was, in fact, still her friend.
Still trustworthy and true, despite everything he’d done yesterday.
Despite everything Lancelot Mortimer had revealed to her about his history.
Then maybe . . . maybe once he’d had a chance to regain her trust . . .
He got to his feet, stepped over to the register, and flipped it open. “Miss Talbot,” he said, removing a small wad of cash, “take your gown round to Pearly Bubbles, over on Pembroke. See if they can’t work a little laundry magic before seven o’clock.”
“Oh, I couldn’t, Mr. Grimm,” Luna said, rising slowly and looking at the money he offered her.
“I insist,” he said. “It was my bird who caused the trouble; least I can do is pay for the damage.”
She bit her lip uncertainly.
“If nothing else,” Nigel pressed, “you can’t return the dress to Myrna in such a state, can you?”
Luna shook her head. Fingers trembling, she took the cash, removed her apron, and reached for her coat. “I won’t be long,” she said, draping the gown over her arm. “I promise. I’ll be back in time to finish up the last of those orders.”
“No worries, Miss Talbot,” Nigel said and lifted the hinged portion of the counter for her, like a footman holding the door.
She paused, glancing up at him through strands of limp hair. “You should, um, drink the tea,” she said softly. “Before it over-brews.”
His throat thickened oddly. “Noted,” he acknowledged.
She looked for a moment as though she might say more, her lips moving around soundless words.
Then, with a little shake of her head, she hastened up the center aisle and darted out onto the sidewalk.
Nigel watched the green satin dress catch the daylight in a final gleam before she stepped beyond his range of sight.
“Never mind!” Debbie crowed in triumph, beating her wings in the air.
Nigel whirled on the bird. “None of that now!” he growled.
But his heart softened at the proud look she shot him.
After all, she’d only done it for his sake.
Once a villain’s familiar, always a villain’s familiar.
Reaching out, he stroked the top of her head fondly, even as he growled, “Fool bird. You know this doesn’t change anything, don’t you?
Dress or not, she’s made her choice perfectly clear. And we’ve got to honor that.”
So saying, he stepped out from behind the counter. A plan brewed in his brain, steeping like dark tea. A plan he would no doubt come to regret in more ways than one. But he couldn’t let Luna be disappointed. Not when he had the means to change her fortune for the better.
He approached the double-delight rose in its pot and bowed formally. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I have need of one of your blossoms, if you would be so kind.”
Many frilly flower heads tilted his way curiously.