Man of Business – Chapter One

(Chapter One – Hiding, continued)

Better get a move on. Donna wan’ te get caught. That fat cook’s helper almost had me, but Tegan had faked her out and jogged left, instead of going right.

“Oy, you, there,” the man with the higher-pitched voice called from the landing a couple a dozen steps below Tegan. “You stops righ’ there. Don even thin’ of movin’. You are in big trouble, you are.”

Catch me ifin you can you tittering-thomas! Tegan turned and bolted threw the door on the landing two steps above her.

“Woah,” Tegan’s feet slipped out from under her on the fancy floor. She righted herself in the nick of time.

Ducked behind a huge blue and white shiny flower pot, twice her size.

The young footman, the one with high-pitched voice, who’d been chasing her, shot out of the door, she’d just come through. “Where you hiding you lil rodent?” the footman looked under the table on the other side of the hallway.

“You there,” a low-pitched commanding male voice said.

The footman startled and stood up quick, like a soldier, shoulders back, chin tucked in.

The man with the commanding voice walked up to the footman. “What are you about?”

“Uhm,” the footman mumbled.

“Speak up, man.”

“Mr Ellington, sir,” the footman said.

“Yes?” Mr Ellington obviously had no patience for dithering.

“Well, you see, sir, we ha’ lost a child,” the footman said.

Tegan threw her hand over her mouth to cover her giggles.

“The West’s child?” Mr Ellington asked.

“Oh, no, sir, our head laundress’ granddaughter. She bolted when her gran told her she needed a bath,” the footman said.

Mr Ellington shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, just like her gran did when she was getting a headache. “Find the child and get her below stairs, immediately.”

“Yes, Mr Ellington,” the footman who’d been chasing her said.

Mr Ellington walked away, heading toward the front door where another footman stood at attention.

“We are expecting Lord West any moment,” Ellington said to the footman beside the front door.

Her footman walked in the opposite direction, away from Mr Ellington. He moved down the hallway, past where she was hiding, opening doors and peering inside. “Come on out, sweetheart,” he said.

Sweetheart my arse. Hurry up, so’s I can get the hell outta here, ye great lummox.

From the spot, where Tegan was hiding, she could see the front door and the hallway her footman was walking down. But the area from her present position to the front door, was all open space, not a decent place to hide between where she was and making her escape. Even the large table in the center of the room with a giant bunch of posies stuck in some fancy thingamabob on it was naked—no cloth to duck behind. And the entire floor was covered in that slick fancy tile. The room was all bright and airy with glass over the front door. Everything shone and smelled nice.

Tegan sighed. Now what?

Her footman went around a corner, disappearing from view. Mr Ellington and the other footman were conversing and had their backs to her. She dropped onto her hands and knees and hugged the wall as she started down the hallway, away from Mr Ellington. She came to the first door her footman had opened. Maybe there’s a winda I can climbs outta inside this here room.

•  

Lord Giles West reined in his horse at the front door of his family’s palatial Berkeley Square residence. He swung down and handed his horse’s reins to the groom standing on the curb. He stood on his front steps admiring the view and counting his blessings. It was a great day to be alive.

When Giles turned about, his front door was open and a footman was waiting to take his hat, gloves, and crop.

“A good ride, my lord?” the footman asked.

“An excellent start to my day,” Giles handed over his belongings.

“Good day, my lord,” Ellington, the West’s family London butler said. “Is there anything you require?”

“Good day, Ellington. I am going to my study and I require coffee.” Giles pivoted and took several steps then turned back to Ellington, “and a sweet or two would not go amiss.”

“Right you are, my lord. I believe Cook has something that will meet with your approval.”

Giles rubbed his hands together, he felt like an expectant child. “Excellent.”

His study was the first door on the corridor to the left of the formal staircase, just past the excessively tall blue and white glazed porcelain urn, from something, something Chinese dynasty. Why his father had been so enamored with the thing he had never been able to fathom. Why you couldn’t even put flowers in the darn thing. Giles shrugged and reached for his study door’s handle.

Hmmm? Interesting. The door was ajar. Perhaps one of the maids.

He cleared his throat loudly, so he wouldn’t startle anyone, then pushed the door open and strolled into the room.

“Hmmm?”

Not a dusting house maid in sight.

Besides his and Eleanor’s bedroom, this was his favorite room in this house. His father kept a separate study for his use farther down the hall. This room was a small island of sanity isolated from the hubbub of London’s society swirl while they resided in the metropolis. It left him off balance that someone had invaded his sanctuary and left the door ajar and a window open. He gazed around. Everything was in its place. But still…

He took a deep calming breath, closed the door and went to his desk. The book he’d left there last night was waiting for him. Now all he needed was his coffee and his sweet treat.

He removed his coat and tossed it into one of the chairs fronting the desk. He pulled his chair out, sat, reached for his book, stretched out his legs—

A high-pitched, muffled expletive came from under his desk.

“What the devil?” Giles leaned down. In the deep shadow of the knee hole, he spied a small human form, with its legs drawn up to its chest, arms wrapped about its legs and two angry eyes glaring at him from a gaunt face. From what he could see, the child was also bare-footed.

“Why are you glaring at me?” he said. “Whoever you are you have invaded my privacy.”

“I was not invadin’ anyfing. I was tryin’ to escape and you got in my way,” it said.

Giles chocked on his laugh. “I did, did I?”

The child gave him one firm nod.

“Escape? From here? What is so terrible that you needed to escape?”

The child’s mouth became a flatline.

Giles put his book down and reached for the child. “Come here.”

The child tried to pull away but there was no place to go.

He wrapped his large hand around the child’s upper arm that was closest to him. It was a very slender arm, too slender. The child looked and felt underweight. “Come along.”

When he had the child extricated and standing before him, he decided it was prudent not to let go.

They eyed one another.

He wasn’t sure if the child was male or female. “You have not answered my question.”

His captive tugged its arm, and Giles opened his hand. The child crossed its arms over its chest and gave him a mulish look. “Thas for sure.”

Giles smiled. “Why so hostile, my friend?”

“I ran, because after the bath she was gonna make me put on a dress.” The child shuddered.

Giles raised one brow. “So, you are a female?”

“A wha’?” the child asked.

“A girl,” he said.

“Why did you not say so to begin wiff?” she said.

He chuckled.

“Why you always laughing at me? It aint nice,” she said.

“You are correct. Very rude and ungentlemanly of me. I apologize. But you see, I was not making fun of you, rather I find your company unexpectedly charming,” Giles smiled.

She scratched her head. Her nails were dirty, in fact all of her was dirty. She needed that bath.

One firm knock on the door.

The girl’s eyes opened wide, “oh no.” She looked frightened.

“Hide,” Giles pushed her back under his desk.

She went.

“Come,” Giles said.

Ellington walked in carrying a tray, as he walked around Giles desk, Giles placed his legs in front of the desk’s knee hole.

Ellington placed the tray down. “Shall I pour, my lord?”

Giles motioned for Ellington to go ahead.

When the coffee was poured, Ellington stood back, he paused and subtly sniffed the air.

Giles caught a whiff of the unwashed child. He cleared his throat. “My boots.”

“Ah,” Ellington said.

Giles toed off his supposed offending footwear and handed them off to his butler who held them at arm’s length.

“Have those attended to, Ellington,” Giles said.

“Yes, milord,” Ellington nodded, “shall there be anything else, my lord?”

“I find I have a terrible thirst for a glass of milk,” Giles said with a straight face.

Ellington blinked. “Indeed. I shall take care of it immediately.” He left.

When the door closed behind Ellington, Giles reached under his desk and extracted his new friend. He lifted her and sat her on his desk. “Would you care for a biscuit?” He lifted the plate of biscuits off the tray beside her hip and offered it to her.

“Yes, thank you,” she took a biscuit. “An’ some a tha’ coffee would not go amiss.” She took a bite.

“Nothing doing, coffee will stunt your growth,” he said.

“Huh?” she cocked her head.

“Make you short,” he said.

She giggled. “Ye jus’ asked tha snooty fella for some milk, so you do not need the coffee.”

“The milk is for you and that fellow is Ellington and he is not snooty. He is our butler and we pay him to behave like that.”

“If’n ye says so,” the girl said.

Giles sat and lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Ahh,” he closed his eyes and savored the flavor. “Just the ticket.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Did snooty ol’ Ellington just call you a lord?” she asked.

“Ah, he did.”

She blinked.

“I told you, he is paid to behave like that and he is very good at his job.”

“I can see that,” she shrugged, “ah well, yer the one postin’ the cole.”

“The what?”

She held up her right hand and quickly rubbed her thumb over the tips of her other fingers.

“Ah, money,” Giles took another sip.

“Thas wha’ I said,” she took another bite of her biscuit.

Giles grinned. This little girl wasn’t fazed by the fact he was a lord. He liked that. Most people told him what they thought he wanted to hear, once they knew his rank. That he hated. Only Eleanor told him exactly what she thought. Now, he seemed to have acquired a second female who would not toady to him. Truly an excellent start to his day “Now, that we have sorted out the beverages, are you ready to tell me about this aversion you have to wearing a dress.”

Her mouth was open, her biscuit laden fingers heading for her mouth. “My what?”

“Why the thought of wearing a dress sent you running for the nearest exit?”

“Oh, that,” chomp, chomp. She opened her mouth full of partially masticated biscuit to answer.

He pointed to her mouth. “I suggest you wait until your mouth is empty before answering.”

She nodded, swallowed, “right.”

A knock and the door opened. Ellington was standing there, glass of milk in hand, gaping at the scene before him, in a most un-Ellington-like manner.

She tossed the biscuit down and put her hands on the desk as if to bolt.

Giles put his hand on her knee. “No one will hurt you. Stay put.” Giles beckoned Ellington forward. He handed Giles the glass of milk. Giles presented it to the child. “Drink,” he said to her.

“Do you have some knowledge of this child?” Giles said to Ellington.

“Indeed, my lord,” Ellington said.

“Please enlighten me?”

“She is the granddaughter of our head laundress; Mrs Higgins, and this young lady has turned the staff upside down looking for her.”

“Please inform, Mrs Higgins that she has been found and I will return her.”

Ellington hesitated.

“Is there something else, Mr Ellington?” Giles asked.

“No, my lord,” Ellington left.

“Now,” Giles raised his hand, palm up and waved for her to continue with her explanation, “please explain your lack of interest in wearing a dress.”

She snorted. “I hate t’em t’ings.”

“Those things,” Giles said.

“Those things,” she repeated.

“And the reason is…?”

“You canna do a darn t’ing in ‘em, t’as why.”

“Such as,” he said.

“Climbin’, boys gets a look at yer privates, and in a stiff wind it be damn breezy, I can tells you.”

Giles raised his index finger skyward. “Repeat after me. Climbing,” he emphasized the ending -ing, “boys get a look under your skirts, and it is very breezy.” He pointed to her.

“Climbing,” she also emphasized the -ing, “boys get a look under your skirts, and it is very breezy,” she paused, “I tell you.”

Giles grinned. What a cheeky little thing. She certainly had a mind of her own. Just like another little girl he’d known long ago and was now happily married to. “You have a good ear and a fine memory,” he paused for emphasis, “and you like to do things your way.”

She winked at him. “Thas wha’ Gran says, too.”

Giles choked on his laugh.

“Gran also says I hears too much that is none of my business and once I hear it it just stays put in my noggin.”

“Such as?”

“When mum and Walt argue,” she said.

“And who is this Walt?”

“Walt is the man my mum is married to and Gran Higgins son.”

“You mean he is your father?” Giles said.

“Nope. He says he aint. He says mum is a whore and he do not believe I am his. Only mum says it aint true. She be an honest woman. She had enough of his talk and his hands and run away from us because she was tired of Walt accusin’ her of bein’ false and makin’ her cry all the time, plus when he really gots goin’ he would hit her. She told me she was sorry but,” the child shrugged. “So now I am here. Walt is takin’ the Kings shillin’ and leavin’ me with Gran. Only she wants—

“You to wear a dress.”

“You catches on quick,” she said, then took a big bite of biscuit.

Giles pointed to her glass and she lifted it and took a big swallow, leaving her with a thick white milk moustache on her upper lip and her lap and the top of his desk covered in biscuit crumbs.

“Are you finished?” Giles asked.

She nodded.

“Will you come with me?”

She gave him a slanty-eyed, suspicious glance.

“I want to introduce you to someone,” he said.

“Who?” she asked.

“Someone I think who will be very happy to meet you. And she shall not insist you wear a dress. Are you game?”