Page 170

“Come in now,” John commanded. “Both of you. Stand over there.”

They complied, their self-importance wilting like hothouse ferns.

The one in the bowler hat ventured, “Pardon, but—”

“Do not speak. Do not move.” John closed the door with an ominous clack. “Alan, quiet.”

The dog stopped barking, although a low growl vibrated in his throat as he stared at the newcomers.

Norman and Enid had gathered around Ivonne, listening sympathetically as she ranted in Spanish.

Benjamin was still bawling and trembling in Reina’s arms.

John went to Reina, surreptitiously caressing the small of her back. “Let me take the baby, cariad,” he said. She surrendered the screaming infant to him.

Cradling the baby with a slight rhythmic bounce, John spoke tenderly in Welsh. “My brave little lad . . . did those men trouble you and Mam? Dad will beat them to bloody rags . . . aye, he will . . . and then he’ll throw what’s left of them into the ash pit. That will teach them not to upset my fine sweet boy . . .”

Soon Benjamin quieted, his wails breaking into little bleats and hiccups.

When the baby finally relaxed, John smiled down at him and murmured, “There’s better, bach.” He brought him to Ivonne. “Estás bien?” he asked her.

“Sí, Señor Pembroke.”

“Why don’t you take Benjamin downstairs, where it’s quiet,” he suggested. “Ask June for some tea, perhaps.”

Ivonne nodded in relief. She took the baby, handed him the umbrella, and shot a last baleful glance at the visitors before leaving.

As John returned to Reina, the older man ventured, “I’ll have you know, I didn’t—”

“Stow it,” John said over his shoulder. Upon seeing how shaken Reina appeared, he struggled to contain his fury.

“Tell me what happened, cariad,” he said gently.

“We had a perfectly nice walk, but just as we were about to enter the house, those two men approached us. They were very forward and rude. The one in the bowler hat put his hand on my arm, and the other one reached into the perambulator for the baby. Ivonne used the umbrella to beat them back, while I picked up Benjamin and ran inside.” Reina let out an unsteady breath before adding plaintively, “I think the perambulator rolled into the street.”

John controlled his expression, but his teeth clenched until his cheek muscles twitched violently.

By God, the bastards would be lucky to leave the house alive.

“Mr. Goodluck,” he said calmly, “will you retrieve the baby’s carriage and push it to the yard in back? Maddock will look over it for damage.”

“Yes, sir.” Norman vanished.

“She’s making too much of this,” the older man burst out. “I was merely trying to evaluate the child’s condition.”

“For what purpose?” Reina demanded, glaring at him over John’s shoulder.

“That is something I will discuss with the mistress of the house,” came the haughty reply.

John turned abruptly and grated out, “This lady is the mistress of the house, you twit.”

Seeming taken aback, the man said in a chastened tone, “I beg your pardon, miss. We assumed you were a servant.”

“Why?” Reina asked.

“You were pushing the perambulator. A lady wouldn’t do so in public: It’s a job for servants.”

“It’s a new perambulator,” Reina said defensively. “I wanted to know what it felt like to push it.”