A Lady's Guide to Marvels and Misadventure by Angela Bell

Author:Angela Bell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance;Christian fiction;Romance fiction;Novels;FIC042110;FIC042030;FIC027170
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2023-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

20

“That lad snores like a snub-nosed pug with hay fever, but he’s a fine man.”

For the first time, Clara could offer no refute to Mum’s declaration of Mr. Arthur’s good character, too wonder-struck was she that he had taken care of everything.

Without deferment. Without angling for something in return. Without so much as one patronizing remark, Mr. Arthur had assessed the situation and set to work. He’d acquired a picnic basket with a handle, dual lid, and soft gingham lining to use for the kits’ transport. He’d negotiated with a widowed innkeeper to let them bury the vixen in her garden and persuaded Mum to condense the funeral to twenty minutes. He’d also taken measures to throw Mr. Forrester off their trail, including paying for a room at the widow’s inn, departing through a back door, and taking a circuitous route to the station. Finally, he’d secured tickets for the day’s last train and convinced a wary conductor that Mum’s basket contained a litter of puppies being transported to cherub-faced nieces it would be a shame to disappoint.

Now here they sat in a first-class carriage, clickety-clacking alongside five other passengers who’d no idea the wicker basket nestled in Mum’s arms contained wild foxes.

Clara endeavored to relax against the cushioned seat and not think about the locked carriage door, the speed of the train, or railway madness. Instead, she tried to divert her thoughts from her lingering fear of locomotives by envisioning the words of Grand’s latest clue and imagining how they’d sound if read by his dear voice. More curios of yet-to-be-memory await you on the Grande Île in Strasbourg, France. On this leg of our journey, we won’t—

A snore bellowed in the confined space, inciting peeved stares at their snub-nosed pug.

Clara snipped a budding smile before it could bloom, lest she provoke greater annoyance, and proceeded to study said pug. Mr. Arthur slept on her immediate right, beard drooped upon his chest and arms limp across his weathered overcoat. Bruises from the pickpocket still marred his face, and a new series of scratches glared red on the top of his hand, compliments of a startled Todd. Rather than being angered by the injury, Mr. Arthur had apologized to the kit for the rude awakening.

Her smile blossomed then, unpruned. He really was a fine man.

Another cacophony of congestion resounded from Mr. Arthur’s sinuses. Clara bit back a chuckle. Did he always snore so spectacularly, or was the poor man that exhausted? Feeling the heat of glares directed Mr. Arthur’s way, she shot their traveling companions an austere glower punctuated with a raised brow. After what he’d done for her today, Mr. Arthur could snore as loud as his snub nose pleased.

A nip to her finger drew Clara’s attention to Fred, his long furry body curled about her bandaged hands like a muff. While his mouth remained ajar to appear pelt-like, Fred’s black eyes had abandoned the pretense of lifelessness to gaze up at her with an imploring look that made his wee eyes shine.

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