A Gentleman Never Tells(99)

“All right then, on the count of three. One. Two.” In the distance, Brent heard a familiar sound and glanced behind him. Out of the foggy rain he saw Godfrey walking toward them, pulling his cart.

Brent gave a heaving sigh of relief and whispered, “That boy is about to earn his first pay.”





Nineteen



Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with.

—Mark Twain

Shivering, Gabrielle flung open the front door to the town house. “Auntie, Rosa, Mrs. Lathbury, somebody quick! Come help us!”

Brent and Godfrey hurried in behind her, struggling to stay in step as, between the two of them, they carried the mastiff into the house. Gabrielle led them down the corridor toward the drawing room. The three of them had done their best to warm Brutus after they had found a hackney to bring them home, but it was difficult to do, as none of them had a dry thread in their clothing.

Gabrielle didn’t know what they would have done if Godfrey hadn’t happened upon them. He and Brent had lifted Brutus into his cart. They had raced across streets and taken shortcuts down alleyways until they found a carriage for hire.

Thankfully, a fire was lit in the drawing room. Gabrielle pulled Brutus’s giant pillow close to the fire, and they gently laid the dog down. His eyes were closed, but he let out a low, strangled woof. Her heart squeezed. She knew he was letting her know he was glad to be home.

Gabrielle rushed back to the corridor and almost ran into Mrs. Lathbury. “We need blankets,” Gabrielle said, peeling off her wet gloves.

The woman scampered away. Gabrielle hurried back to Brutus, untying her cloak with one hand and her bonnet with the other as she went. She flung the saturated garments aside and knelt on the floor beside her dog.

Brent rose and handed Godfrey a few coins. “There is enough here to pay the driver for bringing us here and to take you back to your cart. The rain has stopped, so I’m depending on you to get those other dogs returned to their owners before the afternoon is over.”

“You can depend on me, my lord.”

Gabrielle looked up at the wet young man and said, “Thank you, Godfrey. I don’t know what we would have done had you not helped us. Brutus is such a big dog.”

“That he is, my lady,” Godfrey said, “but I don’t need any thanks. I’ll be off now unless there is more I can do.”

Gabrielle looked at Brent. She didn’t like the look of concern that etched the corners of his eyes and mouth.

“Brent, perhaps we should send him after the veterinarian Papa uses for his horses when one is down. Maybe he can help Brutus.”

Brent’s expression was strained but his voice tender as he said, “I don’t think you need to do that, Gabrie. Brutus knows he’s at home, safe and warm now. That’s what he wanted. I don’t think he wants to be looked at or bothered by a stranger right now.”

Gabrielle knew what Brent was trying to tell her, and all she could do was deny the truth of his words by shaking her head and looking at her beloved dog. She heard Godfrey leave and felt Brent kneel down beside her, but she kept her gaze on Brutus, willing him to open his eyes and raise his head.

“Tell me Brutus is going to be all right,” she whispered.

Brent tenderly placed his warm hand over her cold hands. “I can’t do that, Gabrie. I don’t know. Don’t lose hope.”

“Gabby, what’s wrong?” Auntie Bethie said, rushing into the drawing room. “And who was that strange young man I just saw walking out the front door?”

“He helped us with Brutus, Auntie,” Gabrie said, looking up at her aunt, trying to hold back the tears that surfaced in her eyes and clouded her vision. “We got caught in the rain, and he collapsed. He’s so big we couldn’t lift him, we couldn’t find a cab, and the icy rain just kept pouring down on us.”

Auntie Bethie looked down at Brutus and then over to Brent. Gabrielle winced with soul-shattering pain because she knew what their exchanged glances meant. She wanted to cry so bad her throat ached, her chest heaved, but somehow she managed to control her emotions and not let them spill over into weeping.

“But he’s home now, dearie,” her aunt said, placing a comforting hand on Gabrielle’s soggy shoulder. “He’s on his big pillow by the fire, his favorite place to be. He’ll be all right now, no matter what happens.”

Mrs. Lathbury came rushing in with the blankets and Brent helped Gabrielle tuck them around Brutus. He hadn’t opened his eyes since he collapsed, and Gabrielle knew that was not a good sign.