She had just closed the portmanteau and was feeling a degree ofsatisfaction at a task well done when the key grated in the lock andthe heavy door swung open. Linton made no comment as he took in theorderly scene, and for that she was grateful. Clearly he was graciousin victory.
"Come here, child. I must do what I can with that mangled hair. Who thedevil cut it?"
"I did," she muttered uneasily, noticing for the first time the largepair of scissors he carried.
"Well, it is fortunate you have no aspirations toward barbering. Idon't either, as it happens, but anything has to be an improvement. Sitover here." He gestured imperatively toward the chair in front of themirror. With a slightly mutinous thrust of her bottom lip Daniellewarily took her seat. Her protector draped a towel over her shouldersand began with a deep frown to tidy the much abused crop.
"You're cutting it all off," she wailed despairingly, watching thewheat-colored curls fall in profusion to
her shoulders and onto thefloor at her feet.
"Of course I'm not, you ridiculous infant. But to return any semblanceof order to this mess I have to cut it very short."
Danielle subsided and for a long time the only sound in the room wasthe click-click of the scissors.
"That should do." The earl stood back surveying his handiworkcritically. "What did you do with my comb?"
"I packed it, as instructed, milord," Danielle answered demurely.
Linton's eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing, merely retrievedthe article from the portmanteau and proceeded with unnecessary vigorto tug the curly mop so that it came to resemble somewhat a masculinestyle. Danielle's eyes were watering when he at last pronounced himselfsatisfied.
"Now put this on, and let us have a look at you." Her cap sailedthrough the air, catching her unawares to fall at her feet. Biting backan angry retort, she bent to pick it up and crammed it on her head.
"Well, milord?" She couldn't keep the taunting note out of her voice asshe stood, feet apart, hands on hips, facing his inspection. Just likesome banty little rooster, Linton thought, as he examined her withquivering lip.
"If you keep your eyes down, the cap low, and your mouth shut we mightbrush through this ridiculous affair quite tolerably" was his onlyresponse. "Can you carry that portmanteau? It will look a littlepeculiar if I carry it myself with a servant on hand."
Danielle inhaled sharply, but stalked across the room and seized thepiece of luggage with angry determination. It was very heavy and onfywith the most supreme effort at self control wasshe able to refrain from staggering under its weight.
The earl watched her with some amusement. "At least, while you havethat in charge I won't have to worry about your running away."
The portmanteau hit the floor with a resounding thump as she turned toface him. "I will
not
runaway, Lord Linton."
"No?" An eyebrow lifted quizzically.
"Word of a de St. Varennes," the small, rigid figure spat.
Linton bowed his acknowledgment. "In that case, my little vagabond, ourjourney should be a great deal pleasanter for both of us than I hadanticipated." He moved past her out of the door as befitted the masterand seemed to pay no mind to the slight figure behind struggling withthe heavy weight.
Monsieur Trimbel bowed low as his guest reached the foot of thestairs. His Lordship's reckoning had been paid and generous douceursdistributed amongst the staff. It wasindeed a pleasure to serve MilordLinton—even if he was on occasion somewhat unconventional. Mine Hostcovertly observed the small servant staggering in his master's wake.Cleaned of his dirt he looked positively respectable, but the memory ofthe kick and the virulent abuse still rankled and, with malevolentintent, the landlord stretched a foot casually in the boy's path as hereached the bottom stair.
Concentrating as she was on her efforts and the tug on her strainingmuscles, Danielle was blind to all else. Her foot caught against theobstacle and she tripped, falling in an ungainly heap after theportmanteau on the hard stone-flagged floor of the passageway. Shebounced to her feet as if the floor were a trampoline and turned herpent-up fury and frustration on the well-fed, complacent landlord in atorrent of animadversions on his parentage and on his virility, all thewhile kicking and clawing at the rotund belly, the short, fat legs intheir leather britches, and the florid, well-wined face.
Linton had reached the courtyard door as chaos broke out behind him andhe turned swiftly with a muttered oath. Having no idea what hadhappened to throw his brat into this fury he did the only thingpossible. One hand at the collar of the woolen jacket, the other at theseat of the corduroy britches, hepulled her off the enraged landlord cowering under the assault.
"'E tripped me—'E did it a' purpose!" Danny shrieked, struggling in theinvincible hold.
"I don't give a damn what he did, you ragamuffin," the earl gritted inutter exasperation, still maintaining his grip. "Get that put into thecarriage." He released his hold on the britches to jerk an imperiousthumb toward both Monsieur Trimbel and the portmanteau and thenpropelled Danielle de St. Varennes by the scruff of the neck out of theinn, across the courtyard to the waiting coach. The hand again graspedthe seat of her pants and she was lifted bodily off the ground to betossed in an unceremonious heap upwards and into the vehicle. Theportmanteau was stowed on top and the earl gave quick-fire instructionsto both coachman and postillions before mounting the footstep, seatinghimself on the leather-squabbed seat and shutting the carriage doorwith a definitive slam.
"What the devil did you think you were doing? You're conspicuous enoughas
