Mistletoe and Mischief (8 page)

Emerging from his reverie, Charles instructed him to have the bags he had brought from Lord Conisbrough's house taken up to Louisa.

“Then yor lordship's servants wor there as tha said?”

“ Huh? What? Oh, yes!”

Since this latest episode, Charles had forgotten the story they had told the Spadgers. But Sammy sounded so relieved that his faith in the marquess and his cousin had not been misplaced that Charles turned to the matter once more. “My cousin's bags had been delivered,” he said. “She might prefer to change before coming down to dinner.”

“Mrs. Spadger'll see to it reet away, sir. Would tha like me ta take t' dog?”

Charles glanced down at the puppy in his lap.

It had fallen asleep along the open palm of his hand, as if the past half hour's struggle had been far too much for its young body. It lay in an attitude of complete abandon, sprawled on its back as only a young animal can lie, its front paws flopped over his thumb, its hind paws splayed outwards exposing its pink underbelly. Charles noticed the creature was a female, though he might have suspected so by the length of its eyelashes–some sort of black-and-white spaniel with remarkably long lashes.

Something stirred inside him, and he did not answer until Sammy repeated his question.

“Sir?”

“You may leave her here, “ Charles said. He cleared his throat and said in a firmer voice, “I shall have to see what my cousin intends to do with it. The dog is hers, after all.”

“Aye, yor lordship. And reetly so, t' way she stood up ta that bully. If tha'll excuse me, I will say this. T' lass has got a good heart, that she has.”

Sammy bowed himself out of the room, leaving Charles to reflect on how Louisa had managed to charm the last suspicions from the Spadgers' minds.

He was determined, however, to show no more weakness, so he resisted the impulse to gaze at the dog. Of all things for Louisa to saddle him with, he fumed in order to rally himself. He had dogs, of course. Every gentleman had hunting dogs, but they were of his own choosing, carefully bred for the purpose. Charles had no need for a dog who could not pull its own weight.

And this one, draped over his wrist like a lady's shawl, would undoubtedly prove to be a mixture of breeds, completely untrainable–as flighty, in fact, as Louisa herself.

* * * *

By the time Louisa arrived back downstairs, Charles had worked himself into a state of mild resentment, tempered by the cramp the puppy's weight had started in his wrist. He did not shift it, however. Looked at logically, his discomfort was due not to the puppy at all, but to Louisa, who had caused it to be there in the first place. No reason to take his temper out on a helpless creature when one so capable stood readily by.

He looked up at her entry, planning to start the scold he had prepared for her, but he was stopped by the sight of her new dress. A low-cut gown of yellow silk, as bright as a canary, enhanced her figure. It rustled in a pleasant way as Louisa moved forward and crooned, “Oh, isn't it precious, sleeping there? Charles, I had no idea you were so good with dogs! This one might have known you all its life.”

“It's a she,” Charles found himself saying. He had never cared for the colour yellow, but somehow on Louisa it looked quite well. Because of her red hair, he presumed, noting that Ned certainly knew his business.

“Oh, it's a girl,” Louisa whispered reverently, bending over his lap to pet the dog lightly. She might have been talking about a human baby.

Her breasts hovered within inches of his face, causing a lump to rise in his throat. Charles felt something stirring in his lap. He looked down to see if the dog were waking, but realized with dismay that it was not the dog that had stirred.

He cleared his throat and tried to recall his annoyance.

“Louisa–” He sat up suddenly and placed the dog on the floor near the hearth. “What precisely do you mean to do with a creature you cannot even hold? “

The puppy sat up and yawned, then looked about for something softer to sleep on. It spied Charles's legs, crossed at the ankle, and curled up beside them to rest its chin on the toe of his boot.

 Louisa looked down at it fondly. “Why, Charles, since you are so good with her, I see I shall have to give her to you.”

“But I don't need a dog! Besides, you have never explained to me why you did such a rash thing!”

Louisa looked up at him, surprised. “Oh, but there was nothing rash about it, Charles! I have sworn to myself that I shall not let such crimes go unnoticed! It was a major revelation to me–and a sad one–that anyone could mistreat an animal. As soon as I heard the poor dog's cries, there was only one right thing to do, as I am sure you will agree! “

“Yes, but–’’ Charles could not bring himself now to say she was
entirely
wrong. “But you might have been hurt! Any man capable of abusing a dog might just as easily have turned on you! You should not expose yourself to such danger!”

“But I had no choice, as you saw! Why, even Mr. Spadger, as kind a man as he is–and I do think he is kind–even he was inclined to let the man have the dog! And he certainly would not have rescued it. That became most immediately and painfully clear.”

Louisa gazed at him earnestly. “It is the most curious thing, Charles, that many good people will not bestir themselves for the benefit of others. And yet now, as I was descending the stairs, Mr. Spadger could not have been more cordial. I think both he and his wife were quite happy things turned out as they did. Mrs. Spadger said as much to me.”

She changed the subject suddenly. “0h, by the way, I did not get a chance to thank you for fetching these clothes. They are all delightful, and in the latest fashion. I am very grateful to Lord Conisbrough and his sister. Do you think I should write her a note of thanks?”

Louisa looked at him quite innocently, but Charles hastened to say, “No, that would not be a good idea. Let Ned thank his sister for us.”

“As you wish, Charles.”

Louisa seemed perfectly willing to be ruled by him on this, but the other matter was one of conscience, and she would not be swayed. Sammy and his son brought in their dinner, and Charles waited for them to leave before mentioning the dog again. Jim had a tendency to linger, the better to gape at Louisa, Charles divined. Though respectful, the lad seemed besotted with her, and it was with the utmost reluctance that he finally left the parlour, half dragged by his bemused father.

Charles and Louisa moved to the table, but first Charles was obliged to slip his boot gently out from under the puppy's chin. It moaned when he did so, but agreed to stay put once he had draped his handkerchief over it.

Over dinner, the conversation became quite heated when Louisa suggested Charles ought to have had the man arrested.

“But on what grounds?”

She waved a fork vaguely in the air. “Why, how should I know, Charles? But there must be something. And you, being in the government, must have a much better notion of the laws than I.”

She ended with her fork pointed directly at his chest, a gesture which could only make Charles feel defensive.

“You are correct, Louisa. I do have a much better notion of the law, and I can tell you there is no law in existence which prohibits a man from doing what he did! “

“Well, there ought to be!” She was seated with her back to the fire; the combination of yellow gown, red coals and vibrant hair conspired to build a glow around her. Her indignation was magnificent.

Charles imagined he could feel heat emanating from her, which warmed him, even as her next words tried his patience.

“I am sure you will want to introduce a bill to that effect.”

The puppy had awakened while they talked and now came to beg for food from the table. Louisa cut a piece of ham into tidbits and started to place it before the dog.

“Louisa, if that dog is to be mine, I would be grateful if you would refrain from teaching her bad habits! “

She went on as if he had not spoken. “Nonsense, Charles. Since when does one occasion constitute a habit?”

“Are you quite recovered now, little one?” she said, addressing the puppy. “We should think of a name for her, don't you think?”

Charles groaned. “Have the good grace, please, to let me name her, Louisa. I will not have a dog with some foolish name chosen by a sentimental female.”

Louisa glanced up, surprised. “Do you think me sentimental, Charles? I assure you I am nothing if not practical. The name Eliza had struck me as a possibility, but if you prefer another, by all means, go ahead and choose one.”

Charles had not given a moment's thought to naming the dog; but now it became a matter of honour to choose one. He groped for a name a man could call his dog without being laughed at for it.

“Juno is a good name.”

Louisa glanced at the dog and hid a smile. “Why, of course. Juno–how forceful! Why, just looking at this creature brings to mind the wife of Jupiter! I am struck by the similarity! “

Then she giggled, for the puppy in its efforts to sit up and beg had fallen over on its back. It was still so young that it sat with its legs splayed off to one side–a distinctly ungoddesslike pose.

Charles swallowed the retort he had begun to make, and then swallowed his pride, as well.

“Oh, very well, then. She will be Eliza. But from now on, Louisa, the dog is mine, and I shall be the one to govern her conduct! “

Louisa dimpled at him and returned to her meal. He thought the subject had been dropped, but then she said, “Perhaps this whole incident can be regarded as fortunate, for now you will have Eliza to remind you of those measures you plan to introduce before the Lords.”

Charles refused to be baited into a lengthier discussion–one that he was bound to lose, in any case. He knew better by now than to try to explain to Louisa how the introduction of any such bill would make him a laughing-stock before his colleagues. She never stopped to think about how others would regard her actions.

Charles took that back–she knew perfectly well what others thought and disregarded it all the same. But when cruelty to other humans was so rampant, how could she expect the government to legislate the protection of animals?

He changed the subject and told her they must stay another day with the Spadgers because of the Sabbath. Louisa seemed not at all distressed by the news, though she did have the grace to express her concern for his inconvenience.

As she was bidding him good-night, however, she added in a tone filled with wisdom, “Though I daresay, Charles, you will benefit from another day of rest.”

She held out her hand to him and her voice took on a delicate note. “You will remember to take Eliza outdoors, will you not? And if she sleeps in your chamber, you'll be certain to hear if she needs any such attention during the night.”

With these tactful suggestions, she left Charles standing at the bottom of the stairs, once again wishing he could throttle her.

Chapter Five

The night was cold and clear, promising a fine day on the morrow. If it were not for the chill, it might have been peaceful to look out upon the deserted village. As it was, Charles could only think of the warmth inside, and of Louisa, who was undoubtedly settled in bed with a warming pan and a mound of down-filled covers to make her cosy.

He shivered resentfully and looked up at a display of stars, then down at Eliza seated in the snow at his feet.

The puppy was trembling, too, and looking up as if to ask him why he was subjecting her to this horrid cold. She seemed perfectly willing to oblige him, if only he could explain just what was required of her.

Charles sighed. Then, saving his anger for Louisa, he gave Eliza a friendly word of encouragement. He found himself praising her beyond what was warranted, but it wouldn't hurt, he reasoned, to let her know how to please him.

 The dog seemed willing to obey him, quite unlike her rescuer. It almost seemed, at times, to be poor strategy to let Louisa know what he wanted from her. Once she knew, she was almost bound to do the opposite. And if it were not for that contrariness, Charles reminded himself, he would not be outside, suffering from the cold this very minute.

Louisa somehow contrived to elicit whatever performance she wished out of Charles, something which made him question his sanity. Would anyone else he knew presume to instruct him--even with such delicacy as Louisa had displayed--to walk the dog before he retired to bed? His mother had made it a practice to discourage him from entering into any pursuit she deemed unworthy of him. He had become so accustomed to being spared such tasks that he had almost forgotten they existed. And yet, here he was, running the risk of contracting a chill, and performing a task so menial as to be insulting.

Charles had often prided himself on the fact that he did not stand upon his dignity as a marquess. Now he realized it seldom happened that anyone dared to trespass on that dignity. Perhaps that was the reason for his bizarre behaviour now.

Shock had robbed him of good sense. But he could not, he told himself firmly, let himself be continuously inveigled by a girl who had so little notion of propriety.

He resolved that, henceforth, Jim Spadger would be put in charge of taking the puppy out.

In the meantime, however,
something
had to come of this mission. For the tenth time in as many minutes, Charles bent to raise Eliza upon her feet and to give her a friendly pat upon the bottom. “Off you go, then,” he said, “down to business.”

The puppy stumbled, then took a few tentative steps, lifting and shaking each paw as if the damp were offensive to her. Then, with something like a sigh of forlorn hope, she finally lowered her haunches and produced what was wanted.

“Good girl! Good girl!” Charles scooped her up as quickly as possible and headed back into the inn at a fast pace.

Eliza, who could not have been more surprised at her success, licked him all over the face.

Charles was highly gratified by this evidence of the dog's intelligence and of her good intentions. He muttered a wish that Louisa could be so easily governed.