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“I’m not after stopping you, damn it. All I want is to keep you from being assaulted. You can choose me, Mad Dog, or Norman to go with you.”
Norman’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “I can’t see well at night.”
They all turned to see Norman still sitting at the table with an extra breakfast roll in his hand.
June opened her mouth to reply, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and turned back to John.
“Do it for Miss Martin’s sake, if not your own,” John told her. “I’ve been in this house for less than twenty-four hours and I already know how much you mean to her. You’re all the family she has. What would it do to her if something happened to you?” He gave her a hard glance, willing her to understand it was an unwinnable battle.
June looked away, her jaw clenched.
The only sound in the kitchen was the uneasy chatter of the steaming boiler lid.
Eventually she lifted a kettle from the stove and poured hot water over the soaking dishes. Her small, work-roughened hands gripped the edge of the soapstone sink. After letting out a tense breath, she said, “I’ll take Mad with me.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ thank me! What do you think the other women will say when I come to cookery school with a bloke named Mad Dog? I’ll be a laughin’stock.” Scowling, June extended an arm to point at the doorway. “Any of you wants to keep his bollocks, leave my kitchen now.”
Motivated by self-preservation, John, Mad Dog, and Norman promptly vacated the room. Alan, despite having already been neutered, hurried after them.
June’s voice followed them out to the hallway. “You know what’s even better than having a man around the house, Bee? No bloody man at all, that’s what!”
Chapter Fourteen
A Dog by Any Other Name
Before Norman had reached the servants’ stairs, John stopped him and asked quizzically, “Is there anything you are good at, Norman? Anything you actually like to do?”
The footman removed his spectacles and polished them with a handkerchief as he pondered the question. “I was a good forger. A bit of an artist, you could say. Banks and investment houses called me the most dangerous fraudsman in England.” He seemed to wilt inside his clothes as he continued. “Now I sweep carpets and carry coal scuttles.”
John smiled slightly. “Despiseth not the day of small things,” he quoted. “A man in your former line of work understands the importance of details. If it’s honest labor, take pride in it.”
“Yes, Mr. Pembroke,” the footman said without enthusiasm, and headed upstairs.
Noticing Mad Dog lingering nearby, John gave him a questioning glance.
“Mr. Pembroke—” the coachman began, but he was distracted as the dachshund circled him repeatedly. “Alan, sit.”
Alan curtseyed.
Mad Dog bent to gently press the dachshund’s hindquarters down to the floor as he spoke. “About that . . .” he said with a nod in the direction of the kitchen. “From now on . . . every time June goes to cookery school . . . I’ll be going with her?”
“Aye. If you’re worried she’ll blame you, I’ll make sure she understands—”
“No, it ain’t that. It’s what she said about my name.”
“She was in a temper.”
“She’s right, though. Ain’t a proper name, I know that.”
“How did you come by it?”
“I was left at the Foundling Hospital. Squalling on the steps in a market crate. They named the babies after the day of the week they found us. I was one of the Fridays. Mike Friday, or could be Bill . . . Jack . . . can’t remember. Whatever it was, I didn’t fancy it. So one day I give meself a name I liked. A special name. Since then, I never answered to nothing else. But I didn’t know I’d meet June someday, did I. Didn’t know my special name might cause trouble for her.”
“If someone remarks on it, June will have no trouble putting them in their place.”
“Yeah. June’s got a sharp tongue on ’er, she does. But if it’s other ladies flappin’ their jaws . . .” Mad Dog shook his head. “Women ain’t like us, mate. They’re smarter and they don’t fight fair. A bloke will kill you quick with a good honest blade, but a woman will do it with a thousand darts. And she’ll make it hurt like hedgefuckin’ hell.”
