Mistletoe and Mischief

Louisa faced him calmly. “I was washing Bob because he's mine-in a manner of speaking-and I thought it would be wrong to ask the Spadgers to undertake the task alone.'

“Good God!” Charles uttered, clapping a hand to his forehead.

“Oh, Lord preserve us…!'

Charles had forgotten Miss Wadsdale was behind him. But, at these words, he turned in time to see her swoon and barely managed to catch her before she reached the floor.

“Oh, marvellous!” he said, feeling helpless. “This was all that was needed! Louisa, help me here!'

At the sound of Louisa's name, Miss Wadsdale made a quick recovery. “I shall not be touched by that creature!” she shrieked, and struggled to free herself.

“That is pure nonsense!” Charles released her gladly. “This young lady is to be your charge, and you shall not address her in such a manner. Louisa, come make your curtsy to Miss Wadsdale.'

Louisa smiled at him and curtsied obediently, suds and all. Then she said to Miss Wadsdale, “I am certain you were discomfited by this scene, but I assure you there is no reason. This child is to join us on our journey, and I was persuaded my cousin would wish him to have a bath first. Unfortunately, as you saw, he did not take kindly to the notion, but I daresay it was because it was his first and he shall grow accustomed to them over time.'

She beamed at Bob now. Jim had extracted him from the bath and given him another slice of pie.

Charles's mouth had fallen open during her explanation, which still had done nothing to explain the presence of the boy. He could only assume Louisa had lost her senses.

He was about to deny what she had said when Miss Wadsdale burst forth with a loud invective. “My lord, I refuse to travel with such a hoyden! You brought me here-and against my better judgement-with the understanding that I was to tend your cousin, which, I see, was nothing but a ruse to get me to lend this person a measure of respectability! I refuse to be used in such a manner!'

Louisa's smile was wiped from her face. She turned pale, and Charles felt his temper flaring, but he controlled his tongue. “I assure you, Miss Wadsdale, that this young lady is indeed my cousin. If the circumstances seem a bit odd, I am certain she will explain them to my satisfaction. That is all that is required, after all. You are merely to bear her company-not lend her countenance!'

“A bit odd!” Charles's assurances had had no effect. “For a young lady to be employed in such a manner! And engaged in bathing a child she has said is her own-” Miss Wadsdale's sense of outrage increased with every passing moment. “-when it is plain to see the boy is quite common, certainly too common to ride in a coach with his betters!'

Louisa drew herself up. Charles's heart sank at the sight of fury brightening her blue eyes, but at the same time, he thought she looked magnificent. “Cousin, I think the matter is quite settled!” She spoke with her teeth clenched. “No more than Miss Wadsdale do I intend to pass two days in a carriage with a person whose very presence offends me. And I find this woman most offensive! Anyone who would be so cruel to a mere child could not possibly be a fit companion for me!'

Charles emitted a groan to go along with Miss Wadsdale's cry of outrage.

“Mr. Spadger!” she commanded. “I insist that you take me back to Lady Conisbrough! When her ladyship hears the indignities to which I have been subjected…!” Miss Wadsdale turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

Sammy gave Charles a frightened glance, and then, with his permission wearily given, followed the woman in haste.

Charles knew he should try to stop her, but somehow the effort seemed too great. And the diplomat inside him suggested that she should be given time to cool down. He would let her go back to Lady Conisbrough, who he doubted would listen to her tale with any interest. Miss Wadsdale's baggage remained in his coach, and with any luck, he would be able to pursue her and re-engage her once this matter of the boy was settled.

Charles turned to find Louisa still standing in an irate pose. Jim Spadger was drying the boy with a large towel. Bob seemed fascinated by all he had witnessed and gaped at Charles with his mouth open. When Charles met his stare, however, he closed it and shrank back, closer to Jim.

“Dear Charles,” Louisa said in gentle reproof, “I'm afraid you have frightened the boy, which will make it harder for him to accept the carriage ride. He is afraid of horses, you see, and I had hoped to overcome his mistaken notions, but now I fear that will be more difficult. Perhaps you should wait for us in the parlour and I will try to mend the breach.'

Mindful of the witnesses in the room-Nan still eyeing him with dismay; Jim with something more akin to wariness, as if daring him to harm Louisa-Charles expelled a sigh and bowed to her.

“I think you and I should both retire to the parlour,” he said. “I am sure Mrs. Spadger and her son can cope with the boy for the moment.'

Louisa showed no signs of alarm, but turned to verify this. Nan Spadger nodded.

“I shall be happy to converse with you, Cousin, but if you please, I think I should like to change my garments directly. I fear a chill.'

And, indeed, Charles saw at once that Louisa's arms were covered in goose-flesh. His gaze roved up her sleeve, at which point the goose bumps vanished to reappear quite decidedly through the bodice of her gown.

“Certainly,” Charles said with difficulty. “You have my permission, but I beg you not to tarry. We had a journey to accomplish today, if you recollect.'

Louisa coloured at this reminder of her promise to behave. Then she curtsied and hurried from the room.

Charles strode to the parlour, calling to Nan Spadger over his shoulder that he would like something strong to drink.

Louisa changed her gown and repaired her hair as quickly as she could, though unfortunately this took a great while, since all her clothes had been packed and brought downstairs. With Sammy on his errand, Nan busy fetching Charles a drink, and Jim occupied with Bob, it was quite some time before anyone thought to take them up to her. In the meantime, Charles endeavoured to bring his temper under control and his more wayward thoughts to heel, so that by the time Louisa joined him, he could listen to her with some degree of calm.

With prompting, she related to him the events of the morning. In those matters regarding the carter and the boy's starvation, he could not fault her for her courage or her principles.

“And so,” he said, when she had finished, “you intend for this Bob to ride back to London with us. And what then, pray?'

Louisa smiled uncertainly at him. “I had hoped you might engage him in some capacity in one of your households.” And before he could protest, she added, “I would do it myself, Charles, but the general would never allow it. He is inclined to characterize all my charitable actions as foolish starts, and though I can often win him over to smaller things, I am certain this particular notion would not fly.'

Charles buried his face in his hands and groaned. Then, unable to help himself, he chuckled and looked up at her. “Louisa… if we were to prolong our journey a few more days, I daresay you would saddle me with enough unfortunate creatures to fill an orphanage! Is life with you always like this?'

“Like what, Charles?'

Seeing her bemused gaze, he groaned again and sobered. “Louisa-” he took her hands in his “-dearest Louisa. Has no one ever told you that you cannot cure all the world's ills?'

There was a pause. Then she answered him quietly, “No, of course I cannot do it alone, Charles… dear Charles… but I can try.'

For one moment, Charles thought she must have been teasing him. Then he looked into her eyes and saw her deep sincerity, a firm conviction that she should indeed try to resolve the miseries of others.

Such commitment took his breath away. Louisa's tone, gentle as it had been, had conveyed a reproach-not for his own lack of charity, but for doubting the extent of hers.

Impressed, and deeply touched, nevertheless Charles felt a twinge of pity for the man who would one day take such a lady on as his wife. His life would never be his own, never peaceful. Louisa would force him to take in every stray or waif within sight. His house would turn into an asylum for orphans and pets, if not for unwed mothers and the indigent…

There would be compensations, of course. As he gazed on her face, still unable to find a response to her comment, he let himself wander in those blue eyes that promised such passion… until a responsive thrill warned him away.

He straightened in his chair and released her hands. “Well then, we must see what can be done for this Bob of