“Gunna drown ‘im, miss?”The maid sniggered.
“Don’t be silly.But as you observed, he’s filthy and needs a bath.”And there were fleas, but she wasn’t going to stress that.
Lottie shrank back.“Don’t look at me, I ain’t paid to wash dirty mongrels—in fact, we all bin talking.”She made an expansive gesture, as if to include the whole household.“None of us’ve bin paid in a good long while.It ain’t right, miss, it ain’t right.”
“I know, and I’m very sorry about it,” Tessa said, “but you’ll have to take it up with my brother, I’m afraid.I can’t help you.I don’t have a penny to my name.”She added in a coaxing voice, “But first, Lottie, could you please fetch me the bathtub and some warm water?”
Lottie sniffed.“I told you, I ain’t washin’ that thing.What if it bites me?”
“He won’t,” Tessa said.“I’ll bathe him myself.Now fetch the tub, if you please.”
Leaving the maid to carry out her tasks, and the dog licking the bowl clean, Tessa ran upstairs and fetched a cake of soap, a comb and then, as an afterthought, a pair of scissors.There was no way she’d be able to get a comb through that matted coat.
She set the little dog on a stool and began snipping off clumps of matted fur.He endured it, shivering, but made no move to escape.At first she just concentrated on the worst ones, but soon she realized the best thing, the easiest for her and the dog, would be to cut everything off.Which she did.
When he was shorn, she picked him up and placed him gently in the warm water.Shivering, he wriggled and struggled, and gave her piteous looks, but she stayed firm and, talking soothingly, lathered him from top to tail.
“The bucket please, Lottie.”She rinsed him off and the water ran brown, so she had Lottie tip it down the drain and refill the tub, then lathered him up again.
The maid watched curiously.‘Cor, he’s all skin and bones, i’nt he?Like a little skellington.”
Still shivering, the little dog again made no move to escape, and this time when she rinsed off first the soap, then gave him a last rinse, the water ran clear.
Now he was clean, she could see his true color—no longer a dog that had looked like a colorless rag that had been dragged through a thousand gutters, he was now several shades of brown with a few touches of black, white feet, a white bib and a white-tipped tail.
“Quite a handsome little fellow, aren’t you?”Tessa told him, as she toweled him dry.
Behind her Lottie snorted.“‘Andsome?”
“And obviously intelligent,” Tessa added.She put him down, and he shook himself mightily, even though he was almost dry, which made her laugh.While she and the maid tidied up, the dog explored the small back yard, found a suitable corner and relieved himself tidily.
“Good dog,” Tessa said approvingly.“Now, if Lottie will fetch one of those meaty bones that cook saves for soup ...”
Lottie shook her head.“Take one of Cook’s precious soup bones?It’s more’n me job’s worth, miss.”
“If Cook objects, you can tell her to take it up with me,” Tessa told her.If Cook took it up with anyone—which was unlikely—it would be Edgar, and she’d get short shrift from him.
With the bone in one hand and the newly clean dog under her arm, Tessa had Lottie check for Edgar’s whereabouts, and finding he’d gone out, hurried up the stairs to her bedchamber.There was just one small worn and shabby rug on her floor, so she gave the bone to the dog to chew on the wooden floor, figuring it would be easy enough to clean.
“What am I going to call you?”she mused as he gnawed happily.“Scrap?Patch?”He kept on chewing.
No, names like that were too close to dwelling on his life as a street dog.He had a new life now.“What about Billy?”she said.The little dog looked up and wagged his tail.
“That settles it.Billy you are.”Then she sighed.“I wish my own future was as easy to sort out.”Today’s unsuccessful quest for work had daunted her somewhat.She wouldn’t give up, not after one day, but it obviously wasn’t going to be easy.She needed to widen her search.
The idea of being a paid companion—even an unpaid one who would get meals and a roof over her head—was becoming more and more appealing.But she would need an introduction, at the very least.Old ladies would be unlikely to admit a complete stranger to their home without a recommendation, or at least an introduction.
But how, when she didn’t know any old ladies?Or even any ladies at all?Both her husbands had kept her to themselves and she’d never had a chance to make any friends.Even as a widow, she’d never had any callers: Edgar didn’t allow it.And the ladies of thetonwho did know of her, scorned her as a heartless fortune hunter.
She thought again of Marcus.Lord Alverleigh.
‘If there’s ever anything I can do for you, let me know.’
She fetched the card he’d left, picked up the pen, and wrote a note asking him to call on her as soon as convenient.
She folded it, sealed it with a wax seal, wrote his address on it—thank goodness she’d kept his card—and rang a bell to summon a servant to get it delivered.She waited.And waited.
After his big meal, the little dog was snoozing contentedly so, carefully shutting him in her bedchamber, she stepped out and glanced around.The house was strangely silent.She frowned.They didn’t have many servants, but even if some of them were taking a half-day off, there should still be someone left to keep the house running.She listened.The house was silent, not even the sound of a ticking clock.
