Free The Road to Gretna by Carola Dunn Page A

incomprehensible Scottish oath escaped him.
    “Tolja so,” said the small boy to his companion. “You owe me a taw.”
    Penny smothered her laughter and went to Angus’s aid as he seized the kitten by the scruff of the neck and tried to disengage her claws from his best coat. “I collect Lily has been stung,” she observed. “If I were you, my lord, I should purchase a basket with a lid, for her own safety—and everyone else’s.”
    “A splendid idea, ma’am,” he said with an excellent imitation of sober politeness belied by his twitching lips. “Pray allow me to assist. I have perforce developed something of a knack for handling wild beasts.”
    Between them they rescued Angus from Lily and vice versa. Angus’s concern for Henrietta’s distress had vanished, but Penny managed to soothe his ruffled feelings as they went into the inn. The kitten, in Jason’s firm grip, made unhappy little mewing sounds.
    “Oh Lord,” he said as they moved from the passage into the brightly lit parlour, “her foot has swelled up as big as an orange. Quick, doctor, do something about it before Henrietta comes down and sees it or we shall have a hysterical female on our hands!”
    “More like the size of a greengage,” said Penny, taking the kitten from him and examining her paw. Lily was all sweet docility now. “The little demon must have climbed out of the chamber window into the tree."
    “I canna bring doun the swelling,” Angus grumbled, producing his spectacles and a pair of tweezers from his coat pocket. “But if I tak’ oot the sting, mebbe it willna grow worse. A slice of raw onion will tak’ awa’ the pain.”
    “Raw onion!” said his lordship faintly. “Raw onion,” he repeated to the waiter who came in just then to see if they were ready to dine, it being a quarter past the hour. “A slice of raw onion, and send my coachman to me.
    “At once, my lord,” said the waiter, not turning a hair.
    A few minutes later Henrietta came in, a slender sprite in pink crape with huge satin roses around the hem of her skirt. Jason was just sending Mullins out to buy a covered basket and Penny, weeping involuntarily, held Lily while Angus applied a poultice of mashed onion to her paw.
    “Oh!” Pausing in the doorway, Henrietta raised her hand to her mouth, her blue eyes filling with tears. “Is she...dead?”
    “Now why would I be buying a basket for her if she were dead?” enquired his lordship tartly.
    “To bury her in?”
    “Don’t be a widgeon,” advised Penny. “She was stung by a bee but Angus has treated her and she is perfectly comfortable now.”
    “Oh, doctor!” Henrietta pattered across the room to them. “How kind you are, and how very clever.”
    Fascinated, Penny watched Angus blush right up to the tips of his ears.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    “For pity’s sake, Angus, Uncle Vaughn is probably after us by now. We must leave early.”
    “Airly, to be sure, but there’s nae need to gang wi’ the dawn. I dinna fear your uncle.”
    “But I do.” Penny suddenly became aware of the expression of sympathy on Lord Kilmore’s face. Embarrassed, she concentrated on cutting up her juicy pear.
    “We are all tired after a long day,” Jason pointed out. “I, for one, mean to retire very soon after dinner, so rising early will be no hardship.”
    Henrietta looked at him in alarm. “But Jason...”
    “We shall leave whenever you are ready, my dear,” he assured her hastily, patting her hand, “but I shall order breakfast for you, Miss Bryant, at whatever hour you decide upon."
    “Please, Angus,” she beseeched. “Breakfast at six,” he conceded. With Mrs. Ratchett to be fed that meant they wouldn’t be on the road before seven, but it was better than she had expected. Sighing, she nodded. She really must try to remember that Angus often gave in to an appeal, whereas arguing simply set his back up.
    “My dear Miss Bryant, you are half-asleep already,” said Jason, and she realized she was