“A fine name if ever there was one.” Arthur smiled up into her eyes, gently kissed her lips, then stood to thank the Earl of Dustshore for fulfilling his request. “I thank ye, my friend.”
“Of course,” Dustshore nodded. “Anything for Miss Wallace, or should I now say, the Lady MacDonald.”
Cleo inclined her head in regal amusement and gratitude toward the Earl, then turned her attention back to the tiny ball of fur in her lap. “He is beautiful, are you not Camelot?” She smiled, her heart was so full of love and a tentative longing hope for a better future. The pup had dark intelligent eyes and a friendly nature that Cleo liked very much. She did not think that she could have asked for a better gift.
The rest of the evening passed in a celebratory mood with good food from both Mrs. McGrath and Mrs. Glickman’s kitchens. Everyone got along splendidly, with no one questioning their decision to elope even once. The absence of censure was a surprise, but a welcome one. Everyone seemed overjoyed by their union.
“Will you be returning to your own household now?” Lady Chapman asked Aunt Caroline. “I will so miss our visits.”
“Yes, I will. I will no longer be needed here,” Aunt Caroline answered, a mixture of relief and sadness in her eyes.
“You will always be needed, Aunt Caroline,” Cleo reassured her, coming to kiss her aunt’s cheek in reassurance.
“And will you be going to stay at Irondale now that your mistress is wed, Mrs. McGrath?” Lady Chapman inquired; her brows raised in genuine interest.
“I had nae given it a thought. I am certain that His Lordship has his own cook and housekeeper.”
“O’ course, ye will come tae Irondale with us if that is what ye wish. We would ne’er dream o’ leaving ye behind and when it comes time that ye wish tae rest from yer labors, ye will have an honored place within my household as one o’ the family, should ye wish it.”
“I would like that verra much, My Lord.” Mrs. McGrath flushed with pleasure at his words and turned a luminescent smile toward Cleo who returned it in equal measure.
“Thank you, Husband,” she murmured, reaching out to squeeze his hand.
“But o’ course, Wife. I would nae have it any other way.”
A small knock sounded at the window closest to where Cleo was sitting, and she turned to see who it might be. To her surprise she saw the small elvish face of the shop’s boy, Henri George Jones. “Henri?” she stood and motioned for him to go around to the back door, then left the dining room for the kitchen.
Arthur arose and followed her. “What is it, lass?”
“It is the shop keeper, Mr. Jones’ boy, Henri.”
“I dinnae ken the lad.”
Cleo shook her head. “Nay, ye were never here at the same time. He is a sweet boy, boisterous, but sweet.”
Arthur chuckled at the description of the boy. “Why do ye suppose that he is here at this late hour?”
“I do not know. I hope it is nothing serious, but I fear that it might be given the expression on the poor boy’s face.”
“Aye, ye had better let me answer the door then tae be certain that there is nae any threat following the lad.”
Cleo nodded her consent and took a step back so that he might open the door without her being in the way should he need to defend the boy from harm. When Arthur opened the door, Henri shot through the opening, when it was open barely more than a crack, and launched his small body into Cleo’s skirts, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Whoa, now lad,” Arthur admonished, shutting the door behind him and barring is closed against the night. “What is amiss?”
“The bad man who has been watching your house caught me spying on him and is going to kill me, I just know it,” he panted, his voice muffled by Cleo’s skirts.
“What bad man, Henri? Who is after you?” Cleo asked, kneeling down in front of him to meet his eyes, wiping the tears from his cheeks with her handkerchief. She had set the puppy down before coming into the kitchen and it now waddled up to paw at Henri’s leg. The little boy bent down and scooped the puppy up into his arms, burying his face in the soft fur.
“Did ye say that the man was watching the house?” Arthur came to kneel in front of the boy.
“Yes, sir,” Henri nodded, “he has been watching Miss Wallace for days at least. I have been keeping an eye on him to make certain that he did not hurt anyone, but now he has seen me, and he knows where I live because he has been in the shop before.”
“What is his name, Henri?” Cleo asked gently. “Did he give your father his name when he was in the shop?”
The boy nodded. “He said his name was Smith, a Mr. John Smith.”
“A likely name for a man up tae nae good,” Arthur snorted.
