"He's already peed on someone, Ellie."
Eleanor began running after Villiers. As she grew closer she saw with a sinking heart that Oyster did appear to be the center of the fracas. He was dashing madly in a circle, yapping with the sort of strained excitement she associated with household accidents.
There were a great many children, at least seven or eight, milling about in blue pinafores. And still the screaming: she just couldn't see who was doing it. Oyster ran toward her, barking hysterically, his ears flopping. He was trying to tell her something...
The butler was dashing after Oyster. "Popper," she called, "what on earth—"
But then the screaming stopped, the knot of people separated, and Eleanor saw the heart of the matter. Lisette was nestled in Villiers's arms, one arm around his neck, head against his shoulder.
"I'm very much afraid that Lady Lisette was surprised by your canine," Popper said, breathing hard.
"As I mentioned, she is afraid of dogs."
Long ago Eleanor had decided that what made Lisette truly beautiful was that she ^
rarely showed emotion. There was nothing to prevent appreciation of her blue eyes, her perfectly straight nose, her pale rosebud lips.
Even now, when she was apparently terrified by Oyster, her face was expressionless: no anxiously squeezed eyes or pursed mouth, or ungraceful pant. Instead she was curled in Villiers arms, looking like a portrait come to quiet life.
Eleanor reached down and picked up her squat little dog, which at least made him stop yapping.
"Scared?" she said. "She is frightened by Oyster? He must have startled her."
Brushing past Popper, she walked over to Villiers. "Hello, Lisette."
Lisette didn't answer. Her eyes were now closed. "Surely she didn't faint?" Eleanor said to Villiers, not believing it for a moment.
He looked down at Lisette with a rather queer expression on his face. "I think she's recovering from the shock. When I came up, she was utterly beside herself with terror. Of course, I swept her up and out of harm's way, but it took a moment to sink in."
"Out of harm's way," Eleanor said, looking down at Oyster. He lay along her arm like a particularly warm, heavy baby, which, in fact, he was. Barring the fact that he had all four paws in the air and was panting, he could have been taken for a fat and hairy newborn.
Well, perhaps that wasn't true. Eleanor had to admit that her preference for pugs was not shared by all.
"I can see you're listening, Lisette, so please open your eyes," she said sharply. "I'd like to introduce you to my puppy."
Lisette opened her eyes, but the moment she caught sight of Oyster, she screamed again and shuddered closer to Villiers. "He's so ugly!"
"He's not—" Eleanor began. But there was no getting around the fact that even a creamy white coat and a midnight black muzzle couldn't make a pug precisely beautiful. "He's not ugly," she stated firmly. "He is a fine dog."
"I am afraid of dogs," Lisette said, shuddering visibly. "And that one is monstrously shaped. There is something wrong with its eyes! They look like—like disgusting fish eggs!"
Eleanor looked around at the circle of rapt children. "You're not setting a good example, Lisette.
This is Oyster," she said to the children. "He's a very sweet puppy who wouldn't dream of hurting anyone. And his features are completely appropriate for the kind of dog he is."
Naturally, given Lisette's revulsion, the children were eyeing Oyster as if he had three heads.
"He's grotesque," Lisette said breathily.
"Our hostess is afraid of dogs," Villiers pointed out, rather unnecessarily to Eleanor's mind.
"Perhaps you might keep the animal in your bedchamber during your visit."
Eleanor blinked down at Oyster. He certainly wasn't beautiful. But he was no bulldog either.
"Lisette," she said incredulously, coming a step nearer. "Are you really saying that you're afraid of a dog who weighs less than a stone? He still has his milk teeth, for God's sake!"
"I am," Lisette said, a gasp breaking her voice. "I know I'm an idiot. I'm so stupid. I know it. Just please—please—will you take him away? Please?"
"Of course," Eleanor said, stepping backwards again. Oyster snorted and reached up to lick her chin.
She turned around and marched back to the house, feeling her ears burning red with rage.
It wasn't just the way Lisette had shuddered. Or even the way her eyes had started to bulge so that she actually resembled Oyster. It was the way that Villiers had looked down at her, as if he were protecting her from a man-eating crocodile.
Ridiculous. They were both utterly ridiculous.