“Ah, I can see that you are a gentleman with a discerning eye.”
“Always found his coats a bit plain for my taste.”
“I am sure that Weston would welcome the chance to try something more daring.” Royce smiled. “I fear that plain fellows like myself must make his work somewhat tedious. Tell him that I sent you, and he will have you fixed up as quick as you like.”
“Sir Royce Winslow …” Fanshaw studied the calling card. “I believe I’ve met your cousin, Mr. Gordon Harrington.”
“Of course you have.”
“Splendid chap.”
“Mmm. That’s all settled then. I shall escort these girls home, and—”
“But what about the dog?” Fanshaw asked, frowning. “And these girls shouldn’t be running about loose. They’re a menace. They attacked my driver.”
Sir Royce raised a quieting hand as the Bascombes all chorused a denial. “They will be taken care of, I assure you. Just up from the country, you see. Cousins … um, of my housekeeper. In desperate need of training, of course; I fear I’ll have to insist that she send them back to Yorkshire.”
“Ah, Yorkshire, is it? I thought they spoke oddly.”
“Indeed.” Royce tipped his hat to Fanshaw and sent a peremptory gesture to Mary and the others. “Come along, girls. We’d best get home. I shudder to think what Mrs. Hogarth will say to you.”
Mary gritted her teeth at his high-handed tone, but she and her sisters fell in behind him. Lily turned to shoot a triumphant glance at the glowering coachman behind them, but Mary pinched her arm and she turned around.
“Now we’re your servants?” Mary grumbled when they were a few yards away from Mr. Fanshaw and his driver.
Sir Royce chuckled. “Galled you, did that? I could scarcely tell him you’re Stewkesbury’s cousins; it’d be all over the city in half an hour. Four serving girls up from the country aren’t worthy of gossip. Besides, it will ensure that Fanshaw won’t remember you should you by some wretched chance meet him again someday. He would never recall a servant’s face.”
“He hardly looked at us anyway,” Camellia stuck in. “All he cared about were his coattails. It’s no wonder Pirate attacked them, the way the silly things were flapping about his ankles.”
“Pirate?” Royce looked inquiringly at her.
“The dog. I think he looks like a pirate, don’t you?”
Royce turned to consider the small animal in Camellia’s arms. The dog appeared to be mostly terrier, white with black splotches beneath the dirt that begrimed him. A vaguely circular swath of black surrounded one eye, which did give him a piratical air—as did the scar that sliced up across his muzzle, pulling his lip up on one side in a sort of perpetual sneer. One ear pointed up, but the other, missing a piece at the top, drooped downward.
“I think he looks like a singularly unattractive dog,” Royce replied. “Did you have to bring him with you?”
“I could hardly leave him there. That awful coachman would have killed him—well, if he had been able to catch him.”
“No doubt Oliver will be delighted to have a dog about the place,” Royce commented dryly.
“He will hate it, won’t he?” Mary sighed. She knew her sisters. Camellia loved animals of all kinds, and Lily and Rose were both softhearted creatures. She hated to think what would happen if the earl wouldn’t let them keep Pirate. “Oh dear. Perhaps we can hide the dog from him.”#p#分页标题#e#
At that moment, Pirate took exception to a passing carriage and began to yap frantically at it. Royce cast Mary a speaking glance.
“He does have a tendency to bring attention to himself,” Mary admitted. “But we will be here only a few days. Then we’ll be in the country, and the earl won’t have to see him. Or hear him.”
“Or have him nip at his coattails,” Royce added.
“Only if they flutter about.” Mary giggled. “You should have seen that man whirling this way and that, trying to whack the dog with his cane, and his coattails twirling around.”
Royce chuckled. “I think I understand the dog and Fanshaw, but why were you tussling with the coachman?”
“He kicked Pirate!” Rose told him, remembered indignation turning her cheeks pink. “And then, when Camellia snatched him up, the man was about to hit her .”
Royce’s brows rose. “You’re joking. Obviously I should have thumped him harder.”
“Yes, you should have,” Lily agreed. “Only he couldn’t hit Camellia because Rose grabbed his arm. Then Mary started to hit him, but he wouldn’t let go, so I tried to pry his hand loose, but he was quite strong. I would have bitten his hand, but he had on those big driving gloves, so that would have been no use.”