How to Tame a Rake by Maggi Andersen

Author:Maggi Andersen [Andersen, Maggi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Chapter Nine

After Blake departed for the country and Hawkeswood, Willy headed to the stables, armed with a pair of Agnes’ scissors. Frederick was overjoyed to see her.

“He’s a very friendly dog,” Ernest the coachman, told her. “He’s a great favorite with the young grooms.”

“I’m here to give him a trim,” she said, brandishing the scissors. Frederick looked better. His caved-in stomach had filled out, but his long, curly coat hung in his eyes, blinding him.

Ernest shook his head and laughed. “Oh, he won’t like that, Miss Corbet.”

“Then perhaps you could hold him for me? I’ll start with his tail.”

“I’m glad he had a bath,” Ernest said, his eyes twinkling.

Willy began to cut. After Frederick’s initial whimper of unease, he sat still, enjoying having his fur stroked and petted.

An hour later, he emerged from the pile of fur lying on the ground. “There,” Willy said surveying her handiwork. She had trimmed a fringe above his eyes and cut the fur close along his back, leaving it thick and curly around his legs and sides for warmth. His tail had a stylish bobble on the end. “He looks quite exotic, don’t you think?”

Ernest could only nod. He was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“As a treat, you shall come for a ride in the landau today,” she told the dog as it danced about.

“I think he’s relieved he still has his skin intact,” Ernest said.

Their drive around the park almost brought the traffic to a standstill. Frederick stood like a ship’s figurehead, his face into the breeze, his nose seeking new scents. Every now and then he would bark at passing vehicles. A carriage pulled up beside them. A man and woman and their two children hung out the window, calling to Frederick. “Is he a rare breed?” the woman asked Willy.

“He’s the only one of his kind in the country,” Willy answered, “Are you looking for a dog?”

The children both cried yes, but their father shook his head. The carriage and the landau parted at the corner.

“A white lie, but it might have found him a good home,” Willy said to Agnes.

“I’m sure it’s true.” Agnes agreed. “There could only be one Frederick.”

* * * *

On his way into the country, Blake did not go directly to Hawkeswood. He stopped to visit Ben Nye at the police station in High Wycombe.

“Gore and his cohorts have since robbed a coach and a farmer on his way to market,” Ben said. “But we aren’t any closer to finding him, your lordship.”

Blake rode on to Hawkeswood. He consulted his bailiff, visited his tenants, and discussed the planting with his head gardener and the stocking of the woods with his gamekeeper. He checked on the progress of work being done about the estate. The floors of the big house echoed under his heels, gloomy and far too quiet. He rode miles each day, threw himself into his work and retired exhausted at night. He did not send for Sarah. On the third night, a full moon shone silvery light through the gap in the curtains.

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