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Helena sat there in the instant of stunned silence that followed, chocolate dripping off the end of her nose. It was so very dreadful she hardly knew what to do, but Ryan’s lips were already wobbling, and Etienne’s eyes had filled with tears, and really, there was only one thing onecoulddo in such circumstances, wasn’t there?
She dissolved into giggles, but soon enough she was gasping with laughter, the sort of great, big belly laughs that drew tears from one’s eyes. “Oh dear, thisisrather a mess, isn’t it? Neither of you are hurt, are you, boys?”
They boys shook their heads, dazed still, but little boys were always more apt to laugh than cry, and soon enough uncertain grins were twitching at their lips.
“And you, Hestia? Are you quite alright? I do beg your pardon for stepping on your tail.”
Hestia gave a disgruntled meow which set the boys off, and it all might have ended in gales of laughter if it hadn’t been for a door slamming open, and a furious voice echoing down the adjacent corridor. “What thedevilwas that ungodly noise?”
Heavy footsteps stomped toward them. Heavyfootstep, that is, only one boot heel striking the marble, the other lost somewhere between London and Hawke’s Run.
The boys gaped at her with wide, anxious eyes. Helena did her best to scramble to her feet, not relishing the idea of facing off with Lord Hawke while sprawled on her backside, but the floor was slippery with chocolate, and she’d only managed to stagger to her knees before his lordship descended upon them, his dark brows drawn so low they looked ready to flee his face altogether.
He looked from her to the boys to the shattered porcelain and flood of chocolate, and his face went as hard as stone. “Explain yourselfthis instant, Miss Templeton.”
“It was an accident, my lord. I was going up with the tray, and the boys were coming down, and we collided.” Really, what more was there to say? He only had to look to see for himself what had happened. “No one is hurt, thankfully.”
“Be that as it may, Miss Templeton,” Lord Hawke began, but before he could get another word out, disaster struck.
Well, not disaster so much as Hestia.Again.
The kitten, one of a half-dozen from Circe’s most recent litter had retreated to a safe corner of the landing, away from the chaos, and was peering down on them through the spaces between the spindles.
That in itself was nothing to fret over. After all, who didn’t love kittens? The trouble was that Hestia had a worrying habit of leaping upon the shoulders of unsuspecting passersby, and digging gleefully into their flesh with her claws while they thrashed about trying to dislodge her.
Hestia, likely offended by his shouting, had set her sights on Lord Hawke. Her blue kitten eyes were wide, her tiny behind wriggling as she prepared to leap. “Watch out, my lord?—”
But the warning came too late. Hestia was already flying through the air, her front legs extended and claws at the ready, a little bundle of silvery fur and vengeance, and there was Lord Hawke, the flesh of his neck exposed, a perfect target…
Hestia landed on his shoulder, sunk her sharp kitten claws into his neck and held on for dear life, and Lord Hawke let out a bellow that shook the rafters. “What the devil! I’ve been stung by a bee!”
Oh, dear. That would teach him not to lose his cravat, wouldn’t it? Helena scrambled to her feet. “I beg your pardon, my lord! It’s not a bee, but a kitten!”
“A kitten? What bloody kitten? There are no cats at Hawke’s Run. I detest the things!”
Perhaps there hadn’t been six months ago, but there were now, and rather a lot of them. “She doesn’t mean any harm, my lord. She’s just playful!”
“Her playing is drawing blood! Get this demonic hellcat off me this instant, Miss Templeton!” He whirled around, presenting her with a broad, muscular back.
For a moment she froze, watching in fascination as his muscles flexed under his shirt, but Lord Hawke’s thundering voice jerked her back to the emergency at hand. “Now, if you don’t mind, Miss Templeton!”
“Yes, I—yes, of course.” She stumbled around the broken porcelain and caught Hestia by the scruff of her neck, but the kitten clung like a burr as she tugged and scolded, until at last she managed to pry her loose. “Come here, Hestia, you wicked thing.”
“Hestia? Does thiscreaturebelong to you, Miss Templeton?”
“Er…yes?” In truth Hestia and her five brothers and sisters were communal pets, but this didn’t seem the right time to delve into the details.
“Yourpet, Miss Templeton.” Lord Hawke pointed an accusing finger at the kitten. “Has just destroyed a costly linen shirt, and that’s to say nothing of a silk waistcoat with hand-carved mother-of-pearl buttons!”
Helena clutched Hestia closer to protect her from his stabbing finger. “Nonsense. It was already spoiled when you rode up the drive. It’s hardly fair to blame Hestia for your own carelessness.”
Oh,no. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. His face was turning an alarming shade of red.
Lord Hawke drew himself up to his full height, which was impressive, indeed, though the effect was rather dampened by the droplets of bright red blood staining the neck of his shirt.“Pack your things, Miss Templeton. Your services at Hawke’s Run are no longer required.”
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Miss Templeton gaped up at him, the demonic hellcat who’d sliced the back of his neck into ribbons clutched to her breast. “You’re dismissing me because of acat?”