A Gentleman Never Tells(96)

“I will say it. Brent, you can’t tell that woman what Godfrey did. You are not an uncaring person, and you can see she is far too ill to hear that about her son on top of your taking Prissy away from her.”

“What are you saying? I have to tell her, Gabrielle. He stole dogs and extorted money. That’s against the law.”

Gabrielle blinked rapidly, as if she didn’t understand him. “But he was trying to get enough money for a doctor to help his mother. It might have been the wrong thing to do, but it was for a very good reason.”

“That doesn’t make it right. If he isn’t punished for doing this, he might do it again, or do something worse next time.”

She moistened her lips. “I agree he needs some type of punishment, but that doesn’t mean his mother has to know. He said he would pay back the money, and that can be his punishment.”

“Pay it back with what, Gabrie?” Brent said, exasperated as the chilling, misting rain fell on his hatless head. “He has no money.”

“You can give him a job and let him work it off.”

“Me?” She was unbelievable! “Me, give a job to the wretched little thief who stole my dog?”

“All right, I’ll give him a job. He not only needs to pay back Lord Snellingly and Lord Waldo, but once he gets enough money for a doctor to see his mother, I’m sure he will need money for some type of medicines or tonics or something.”

“Fine, you give him a job,” Brent said a little too sharply, and she flinched at his harsh tone. Brent took a deep breath. He didn’t like arguing with Gabrielle. “You give him a job,” he said in a softer tone. “I’m going to get Prissy and go home.”

Gabrielle lowered her lashes over her eyes. “I’ll wait out here with Brutus.”

He walked back into the house. The woman’s eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brentwood, Godfrey just told me he found the dog in the park and she is your dog and you have come for her. I understand.”

She picked Prissy up off her lap and sat her down on the floor. Now Brent felt like a wretch. Why did the woman have to be sick?

“Come, Prissy.” The Pomeranian just looked at him. Pris had always been stubborn. “Come on, girl, let’s go.” Prissy barked once and started toward him. He bent down to scoop her up, but she quickly barked again and then turned around and ran back to the bed. She lifted her front paws on the bed and barked at the woman.

“Shoo—Prissy. Your master has come for you. Shoo now, you must go with him.”

Brent stared at Prissy, who was begging the woman to pick her up and put her on the bed, and for a moment he saw his mother. That was exactly how Prissy used to demand his mother put her on the bed. Brent’s heart softened. He thought about all the times the dog had gotten him up early, barked at the moon, and scratched on his door. Had he kept Prissy only because of his mother? He had missed the little mutt when she first disappeared, so he must have some feelings for the dog.

It hardly mattered anymore. Prissy was making her choice. She wanted to stay, and he was going to allow it. Somehow, he knew his mother would want this woman to have Prissy.

“You keep her, Mrs. Jones. She seems quite taken with you.”

A hopeful expression rounded her dark-circled eyes. “Oh, I couldn’t take her from you. I’m just happy we were able to keep her safe until you found out where she was.” She looked at Prissy. “You stop holding up your master. Now go.”

Brent walked over and picked up the little dog and gave her a hug. Prissy licked his face again and barked. He then placed the dog in Mrs. Jones’s lap.

“No, Mrs. Jones, she’s your dog now. You’ve taken excellent care of her. I’ll keep up with her through Godfrey.”

Mrs. Jones smiled gratefully and lovingly stroked Prissy’s back. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Get better so you can continue to take good care of her.” Brent looked at the two girls who hadn’t moved from the corner. “You will help your mother take care of Prissy, won’t you?” The girls nodded. “All right then.” Brent looked at Godfrey and pointed toward the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

The lad followed Brent. Brutus growled at Godfrey, and the lad backed up. Gabrielle rubbed the mastiff’s shoulder and calmed him. Brent could tell the temperature was dropping. The misty rain felt icy to his hatless head. He wrapped his scarf tighter about his throat and hoped they didn’t have to walk too far before finding a cab to hire.