Devil in Spring
Page 23
Justin shook his head and heaved a sigh, a miniature adult plagued by worldly concerns. “Mama won’t be happy about this at all.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I set them on the sand, and they disappeared.”
“Perhaps an octopus stole them.” Immediately Pandora regretted the remark—it was just the sort of eccentric comment Lady Berwick would have deplored.
But Lord St. Vincent replied with a considering frown, as if the matter were quite serious. “If it’s an octopus, he won’t stop until he has eight.”
Pandora smiled hesitantly up at him.
“I don’t have that many shoes,” Justin protested. “What can we do to stop him?”
“We could invent some octopus repellent,” Pandora suggested.
“How?” The child’s eyes sparked with interest.
“Well,” Pandora began, “I’m sure we would need some—oof!” She was never to finish the thought, as she was startled by a creature that came bounding swiftly around the side of the carriage. A glimpse of floppy ears and jolly brown eyes filled her vision before the enthusiastic canine pounced so eagerly that she toppled backward from her squatting position. She landed on her rump, the impact knocking her hat to the ground. A swath of hair came loose and slid over her face, while a young tan-and-black retriever leapt around her as if he were on springs. She felt a huff of dog breath at her ear and the swipe of a tongue on her cheek.
“Ajax, no,” she heard Ivo exclaim.
Realizing what a mess she’d become, all in a matter of seconds, Pandora experienced a moment of despair, followed by resignation. Of course this would happen. Of course she would have to meet the duke and duchess after tumbling on the drive like a half-witted carnival performer. It was so dreadful that she began to giggle, while the dog nudged his head against hers.
In the next moment, Pandora was lifted to her feet and caught firmly against a hard surface. The momentum threw her off balance, and she clung to St. Vincent dizzily. He kept her anchored securely against him with an arm around her back.
“Down, idiot,” St. Vincent commanded. The dog subsided, panting happily.
“He must have slipped past the front door,” Ivo said.
St. Vincent smoothed Pandora’s hair back from her face. “Are you hurt?” His gaze ran over her swiftly.
“No . . . no.” Helpless giggles kept bubbling up as her nervous tension released. She tried to smother the giddy sounds against his shoulder. “I was . . . trying so hard to be ladylike . . .”
A brief chuckle escaped him, and his hand moved over her upper back in a calming circle. “I would imagine it’s not easy to be ladylike in the midst of a dog mauling.”
“Milord,” came the voice of a concerned footman from nearby, “has the young lady been injured?”
Pandora couldn’t quite hear Lord St. Vincent’s reply over the pounding of her heart. His nearness, the protective arm around her, that gently roaming hand . . . all of it seemed to be awakening parts of her, deep inside, that had never been awake before. A strange new pleasure spread through her and lit every nerve ending like a succession of tiny birthday candles. Her gaze dropped to his shirtfront, the fine layer of handkerchief-weight linen doing little to conceal the hard curves and planes of muscle beneath. Seeing a hint of tawny curling hair where the placket of the shirt fell open, she flushed and recoiled in confusion.
Raising an exploring hand to her hair, she said vaguely, “My hat . . .” She turned to look for it, only to discover that Ajax had found the little velvet hat with its tempting cluster of feathers. Clamping it in his mouth, the dog shook it playfully.
“Ajax, come,” Lord St. Vincent said immediately, but the unruly retriever cavorted and jumped, keeping it out of reach.
Ivo approached the dog slowly. “Ajax, let me have it,” he said in a coaxing tone. “Come on, boy . . .” The dog turned and took off at a run. “I’ll fetch it,” Ivo promised, sprinting after the dog.
“Me too!” Justin followed, his short legs a blur. “But it’s going to be soggy!” came a dire warning from over his shoulder.
Shaking his head, Lord St. Vincent watched the retriever scamper across the lawn. “I owe you a new hat,” he told Pandora. “That one will return in shreds.”
“I don’t mind. Ajax is still a pup.”
“The dog is inbred,” he said flatly. “He doesn’t retrieve or obey commands, he tries to dig holes in carpets, and as far as I can tell, he’s incapable of walking in a straight line.”
Pandora grinned. “I rarely walk in a straight line,” she confessed. “I’m too distractible to keep to one direction—I keep veering this way and that, to make certain I’m not missing something. So whenever I set out for a new place, I always end up back where I started.”
Lord St. Vincent turned to face her fully, the beautiful cool blue of his eyes intent and searching. “Where do you want to go?”
The question caused Pandora to blink in surprise. She’d just been making a few silly comments, the kind no one ever paid attention to. “It doesn’t matter,” she said prosaically. “Since I walk in circles, I’ll never reach my destination.”
His gaze lingered on her face. “You could make the circles bigger.”
The remark was perceptive and playful at the same time, as if he somehow understood how her mind worked. Or perhaps he was mocking her.
As the empty carriages and wagon were drawn away, Lord St. Vincent guided Pandora toward the entrance of the house. “How was your journey?” he asked.
“What do you think happened?”
“I set them on the sand, and they disappeared.”
“Perhaps an octopus stole them.” Immediately Pandora regretted the remark—it was just the sort of eccentric comment Lady Berwick would have deplored.
But Lord St. Vincent replied with a considering frown, as if the matter were quite serious. “If it’s an octopus, he won’t stop until he has eight.”
Pandora smiled hesitantly up at him.
“I don’t have that many shoes,” Justin protested. “What can we do to stop him?”
“We could invent some octopus repellent,” Pandora suggested.
“How?” The child’s eyes sparked with interest.
“Well,” Pandora began, “I’m sure we would need some—oof!” She was never to finish the thought, as she was startled by a creature that came bounding swiftly around the side of the carriage. A glimpse of floppy ears and jolly brown eyes filled her vision before the enthusiastic canine pounced so eagerly that she toppled backward from her squatting position. She landed on her rump, the impact knocking her hat to the ground. A swath of hair came loose and slid over her face, while a young tan-and-black retriever leapt around her as if he were on springs. She felt a huff of dog breath at her ear and the swipe of a tongue on her cheek.
“Ajax, no,” she heard Ivo exclaim.
Realizing what a mess she’d become, all in a matter of seconds, Pandora experienced a moment of despair, followed by resignation. Of course this would happen. Of course she would have to meet the duke and duchess after tumbling on the drive like a half-witted carnival performer. It was so dreadful that she began to giggle, while the dog nudged his head against hers.
In the next moment, Pandora was lifted to her feet and caught firmly against a hard surface. The momentum threw her off balance, and she clung to St. Vincent dizzily. He kept her anchored securely against him with an arm around her back.
“Down, idiot,” St. Vincent commanded. The dog subsided, panting happily.
“He must have slipped past the front door,” Ivo said.
St. Vincent smoothed Pandora’s hair back from her face. “Are you hurt?” His gaze ran over her swiftly.
“No . . . no.” Helpless giggles kept bubbling up as her nervous tension released. She tried to smother the giddy sounds against his shoulder. “I was . . . trying so hard to be ladylike . . .”
A brief chuckle escaped him, and his hand moved over her upper back in a calming circle. “I would imagine it’s not easy to be ladylike in the midst of a dog mauling.”
“Milord,” came the voice of a concerned footman from nearby, “has the young lady been injured?”
Pandora couldn’t quite hear Lord St. Vincent’s reply over the pounding of her heart. His nearness, the protective arm around her, that gently roaming hand . . . all of it seemed to be awakening parts of her, deep inside, that had never been awake before. A strange new pleasure spread through her and lit every nerve ending like a succession of tiny birthday candles. Her gaze dropped to his shirtfront, the fine layer of handkerchief-weight linen doing little to conceal the hard curves and planes of muscle beneath. Seeing a hint of tawny curling hair where the placket of the shirt fell open, she flushed and recoiled in confusion.
Raising an exploring hand to her hair, she said vaguely, “My hat . . .” She turned to look for it, only to discover that Ajax had found the little velvet hat with its tempting cluster of feathers. Clamping it in his mouth, the dog shook it playfully.
“Ajax, come,” Lord St. Vincent said immediately, but the unruly retriever cavorted and jumped, keeping it out of reach.
Ivo approached the dog slowly. “Ajax, let me have it,” he said in a coaxing tone. “Come on, boy . . .” The dog turned and took off at a run. “I’ll fetch it,” Ivo promised, sprinting after the dog.
“Me too!” Justin followed, his short legs a blur. “But it’s going to be soggy!” came a dire warning from over his shoulder.
Shaking his head, Lord St. Vincent watched the retriever scamper across the lawn. “I owe you a new hat,” he told Pandora. “That one will return in shreds.”
“I don’t mind. Ajax is still a pup.”
“The dog is inbred,” he said flatly. “He doesn’t retrieve or obey commands, he tries to dig holes in carpets, and as far as I can tell, he’s incapable of walking in a straight line.”
Pandora grinned. “I rarely walk in a straight line,” she confessed. “I’m too distractible to keep to one direction—I keep veering this way and that, to make certain I’m not missing something. So whenever I set out for a new place, I always end up back where I started.”
Lord St. Vincent turned to face her fully, the beautiful cool blue of his eyes intent and searching. “Where do you want to go?”
The question caused Pandora to blink in surprise. She’d just been making a few silly comments, the kind no one ever paid attention to. “It doesn’t matter,” she said prosaically. “Since I walk in circles, I’ll never reach my destination.”
His gaze lingered on her face. “You could make the circles bigger.”
The remark was perceptive and playful at the same time, as if he somehow understood how her mind worked. Or perhaps he was mocking her.
As the empty carriages and wagon were drawn away, Lord St. Vincent guided Pandora toward the entrance of the house. “How was your journey?” he asked.
