Carola Dunn (21 page)

 “Did you hear me, madam? Your wretched whelp caught and killed Lucinda’s kitten in the woods! The child is heartbroken. If you cannot discipline the vicious brute and teach it to behave itself, I shall—”

 The door closed in his face.

 Raising his hand to bang the knocker, Damian hesitated. It would be more dignified, and very likely more productive, to write to her, warning that he would have the beast shot if she failed to train it not to kill. A vivid but calm description of Lucy’s sorrow was more likely to rack Miss Duckworth with guilt than shouting at her.

 He had frightened her...or had he? She had not fled, but retreated in good order before his boorish attack. Why did he find it so impossible to treat her with ordinary, gentlemanly courtesy, as he did every other female of his admittedly limited acquaintance?

 The door opened.

 Miss Duckworth stepped out, closing the door behind her. In her arms she bore a fluffy white kitten with a black patch over one eye, a purring kitten which she deposited in his hastily extended hands.

 “Might I suggest,” she said coldly, “that in future you attempt to ascertain the facts before going off at half-cock? Good day, Mr Perrincourt.”

 She went back into the house and shut the door.

Chapter 10

 Just before her front door thudded shut, Mariana heard a yelp of pain. Seething, she attempted to ignore it. The latch clicked into its slot and she turned away.

 Lyuba gazed up, her bright brown eyes innocent, loving—and just a trifle reproachful?

 With a sigh, Mariana addressed her: “So you wish me to heap coals of fire upon his head, do you? I dare say he merely raised his hand to push on the door, and bashed his knuckles against it.”

 The tip of the puppy’s tail swished gently, but she continued to regard her mistress with unwavering reproach.

 “Or is it that you want your new little friend back?” Mariana sighed again. “No, you are right, I must at least see if the chucklehead has damaged himself.”

 Once more she opened the door. Mr Perrincourt stood there, half bent over in an awkward posture, one hand pressed to the small of his back, the other arm cradling the kitten. His face was shockingly pale, and below the brim of his top-hat, Mariana saw beads of sweat bespangling his brow.

 “My dear sir, what is it?” she cried, alarmed. “You are in pain. Come in and sit down!”

 “I cannot move without support,” Mr Perrincourt choked out. “Have you a walking stick? Or an umbrella...”

 She flew to his side. “Here, give me the kitten.” She could not resist a sly dig: “If you trust me with him. Now, can you put your arm across my shoulders? I am strong, sir, you need not fear to put your weight on me. That is it. Be careful of the step.”

 “The step is where I came to grief,” he said ruefully, leaning on her heavily as they crossed the threshold. “I moved backward without care and twisted to keep my balance. My back...”

 “Mrs Perrincourt has mentioned your injury. What will suit you best?” Mariana asked, supporting him into her sitting room. “A straight chair, or to lie upon the sofa?”

 “I am best off lying flat upon the floor,” Mr Perrincourt confessed with embarrassment, “but quite apart from the discourtesy, I fear I cannot get down there without aid, far less rise again when your patience is exhausted.”

 “I shall call my maid, and if need be, send for your servants to help you up when my patience is exhausted,” she said dryly. “Hetta!”

 Grumbling under her breath, the maid lent her assistance. Soon the Squire was flat on his back on Mariana’s rug, with a cushion beneath his head and another under his knees. Though the procedure obviously hurt him a good deal, not a murmur escaped his lips until he was settled there, when he produced a groan of relief.

 The dog, an interested spectator, trotted over to lick his face.

 “Lyuba, come away!”

 “No, let her be,” said Mr Perrincourt. “I deserve that she should bite off my nose. I do not deserve that you should be so kind.”

 “I cannot but agree,” Mariana said cordially, sitting down upon the sofa.

 Pirate was sitting there, where she had dropped him, diligently washing himself. Now he jumped down and went to curl up on Mr Perrincourt’s stomach, purring. Lyuba lay down with her chin on the Squire’s ribs, her nose touching the kitten’s paw.

 “As you see,” Mariana continued, “they are the best of friends.”

 “So I see,” he said, looking still more abashed.

 “Lyuba ran off when I let her out into the garden yesterday evening, and came dashing back a few minutes later, bearing the kitten. I was not sure he would survive—he was soaking wet and chilled through. I dried him as best I could, and he managed to drink some warm milk. Then Lyuba took charge again. She carried him to the hearth rug and lay down beside him. I believe her mothering saved him.”

 “Her rescue surely did. I most humbly beg your pardon, and hers. You will observe, I abase myself.”

 Mariana smiled. “The proper position for self-abasement is face down, I believe. Tell me, sir, do you customarily jump to conclusions on no evidence and with such a vengeance?”

 “Not no evidence,” he protested. “Thomas and I saw the pup—Looba is her name?”

 “Lyuba. It is the Russian pet-name for a girl called Lyubov, which means love.”

 Mr Perrincourt twisted his tongue around the unfamiliar sound. “Lyuba. How do you do, Lyuba,” he added as she raised her head to look at him.

 She stretched out her neck to lick his chin, then subsided again. Mr Perrincourt raised his hand and gently pulled her ear.

 “We saw her, with Pirate limp in her mouth,” he said, continuing to stroke her neck. “You must admit it appeared pretty damning.”

 “I suppose so, if you do not know her. She has the softest mouth imaginable.” As Mariana spoke, she watched his hand caressing Lyuba, and then she became aware that he was watching her mouth. Suddenly, unaccountably, her cheeks grew hot, and illogically, she rose and went to poke up the fire. “Are you warm enough, sir?”

 “Perfectly, thank you.” His voice was a trifle unsteady. For a moment she wondered if an incautious movement while her back was turned had exacerbated his injury, but he went on, “And the pain has subsided considerably. I shall not try your patience much longer.”

 “Believe me, Mr Perrincourt, if there is any one quality a governess is obliged to cultivate, it is patience!”

 “I dare say it is a quality in which you consider me sadly lacking. All I can plead in my own defence is that Lucinda was heartbroken at Pirate’s disappearance, and I dreaded having to break to her that he was dead.”

 “I wish I had sent a message up to Wych Court last night, but it was snowing. I did not care to go out, nor to send Hetta in such weather. When you saw me on the doorstep just now, I had just decided to walk up myself with the kitten, though I ought to have been doing my accounts. I was quite sorry when you appeared, since you deprived me of an excuse for a walk on this beautiful morning.”

 “And I soon made you still sorrier for my arrival, did I not?” he said wryly. “As well as depriving you of your walk. Pray do not feel you must stay in to entertain me just because I am prostrate on your floor.”

 Mariana laughed, and Mr Perrincourt smiled in response. His smile transformed his rather severe features. Somewhat to her surprise, Mariana decided she quite liked him, at least when he was not being pompous or outright rude.

 “I have the best of excuses not to do my accounts now,” she said. “I shall go and fetch someone to assist you.”

 “I dislike accounts quite as much as you possibly can, so I am happy to have provided an excuse for you to postpone working on them.”

 “I do not mind when they add up correctly the first time, but they so rarely do!” She stood up. “Excuse me, pray, while I go and put on my outdoor things.”

 “Dress warmly, Miss Duckworth,” Mr Perrincourt urged. “The sun is pleasant, but in the shade the air is icy. I should not wish you to take a chill on your errand of mercy.”

 Lyuba dashed ahead up the stairs to her chamber. Mariana donned hat, gloves, and her warm pelisse, adding a shawl. When she returned to the sitting room, the sight of the Squire, flat on the floor with the kitten asleep on his middle, struck her afresh, and she could not repress a chuckle.

 “I suppose I must look utterly ridiculous,” he said disconsolately.

 “I beg your pardon, sir, I did not mean to laugh at you. That was disgracefully rude of me, especially since you are in pain.”

 “Very little now, I assure you. In fact, I dare say I can lift myself to my feet now, and walk home, if not ride.” He raised his head and put out his hand to move Pirate, who stepped down, stretched, and began to wash. “I shall save you the errand.”

 “No, no!” Mariana stooped to press his shoulder to the floor. “Pray do not be foolish! Would you deprive Lyuba and me of our walk?”

 “By no means, ma’am. You may go where you please—or walk with me.” As he spoke he cautiously rolled over and pushed himself up onto hands and knees, with no more than a grunt of effort. “My mother would be pleased to see you, and the children, also. You must know that Lucinda bestowed upon you the accolade of that all-purpose adjective, nice.”

 “I am honoured.” Looking down at him, crouched on all fours, Mariana smiled at his valiant determination. “What are you going to do now, Mr Perrincourt? You will not be comfortable for long in that position, I fear.”

 “What a wretched tease you are, ma’am! With just a little assistance from your maidservant, I shall be up on my feet directly.”

 “Why trouble Hetta? I am sure I am quite as strong as she is, after all the work I have done in my garden. Come, let me help you up.”

 With her support, he stood. Whereas she had helped him in from the front step with no thought but for his pain, now his closeness, the warmth and weight of his touch, made her feel most peculiar. Her breath caught in her throat. She was not accustomed to the proximity of the masculine half of creation, and Mr Perrincourt seemed to her a particularly masculine example.

 As soon as she was sure he was steady, she hastily moved away, unnecessarily straightening her bonnet. He picked up his hat from the table where she had set it.

 “Thank you, Miss Duckworth,” he said in a constrained voice. “I shall do very well now.”

 Not sure if his sudden reserve betokened embarrassment to match hers, or physical discomfort, Mariana asked, “Do you honestly believe you will be able to walk all the way up to Wych Court?”

 “Yes, if I take it slowly. However, if it will not discommode you, I shall leave my horse tied to your gatepost and send a groom down for him. Were I to lead him, I could not answer for keeping my feet should he toss his head or pull on the bridle.”

 “I am not at all certain you are fit to walk so far,” Mariana said with a frown, picking up the kitten. “Will you not sit here, and let me send your carriage?”

 “No,” he said obstinately, and went slowly but steadily to hold the door for her.

 With Pirate, much to his noisy fury, confined in a lidded basket, and Lyuba racing around in the snow, they set off up the lane.

 “What a stubborn man you are,” said Mariana conversationally. “Why would you not remain at the cottage until your servants came to fetch you? I hope it was not because you dislike being beholden to me?”

 “Not at all, Miss Duckworth. I am already under more obligation than I can well express. No, I did not want to alarm my mother, without good reason.”

 She raised her eyebrows at him. “Indeed? I wonder why I should have imagined you were simply reluctant to have any more witnesses to your prostration on my rug?”

 “I wonder what could have led you to that conclusion?” Mr Perrincourt said with a sheepish grin. “But it is quite true—as you see—that my back is improved quite enough to get me home. Incidentally, I prefer to consider myself determined and self-disciplined, not stubborn.”

 “I dare say,” said Mariana tartly. “Fortunately, the English language has more than sufficient synonyms to allow all of us to give our faults the names of virtues.”

 “There speaks the governess!” he crowed. “Didactic is the word.”

 His turn to tease, Mariana acknowledged, pleased to see his eyes sparkling like the snow in the sun. He was walking more easily as they proceeded, still slow and careful, but no longer stiffly tense.

 “I prefer instructive,” she said with a smile, “thereby proving my point.”

 “So you do.” He sobered. “Miss Duckworth, I have a favour to ask of you. I trust you will think me considerate, not cowardly, if I beg you not to mention my mistake over the kitten to Lucy, nor my unforgivable rudeness to my mother.”

 “Of course I shall not,” Mariana said warmly. “It could only distress them. Besides, you are forgiven.”

 “You are too good, ma’am. Dare I hope we may cry friends?”

 “If Lyuba and Pirate are friends, Mr Perrincourt, then I see no reasonable alternative for us!”

Chapter 11

 When they reached the house, Miss Duckworth said hesitantly, “I had better not come in. I should have left Lyuba at home. Pray convey my respects to Mrs Perrincourt.”

 “Balderdash!” said Damian, opening the front door. “My brother always had dogs about the house, and I shall again when I am fit to train them to behave themselves. The pup is the heroine of the hour. Bring her in. The children will want to make much of her.”

 “To heel, Lyuba!”

 To Damian’s surprise the dog obeyed at once. Though she had not killed but rescued the kitten, he still thought of her as an undisciplined creature.

 Perkins came across the hall towards them. Lyuba promptly dashed to greet him, tail wagging madly, and leapt up at him.

 “Down!” commanded the butler firmly, in chorus with Miss Duckworth.

 Lyuba grovelled, rolling over onto her back. With an apologetic glance at his employer, Perkins bent to scratch her tummy. She squirmed in ecstasy.

 “I am so sorry,” said Miss Duckworth. “She is still learning. She is very young. Lyuba, come here, you naughty girl.”