She raced down the passage to the kitchen, slipped through the door, and carefully closed it behind her. Cook stood on the table, her face even redder than usual, directing her troops with a martial air and waving a large carving knife. Jacko, a footman, the bootboy, and the scullery maid, armed with a variety of pots and pans, were skulking about, occasionally pouncing with a triumphant cry of “I got 'im.”
Cook spotted Mimi. “'Tis a good job, miss, as I ben't one o' them French chefs,” she said severely, “or I'd have t'legs off 'em quick as milk can curdle.”
“I'm sorry, Cook. I meant to take them down to the pond today. I didn't realize they had turned into frogs already. Jacko, look, there's one by your right foot. Don't step on the poor little thing.”
One of the tiny creatures leaped to a spot on the red tile floor just in front of her. Stooping swiftly, she picked it up. It sat on her hand, its throat throbbing, looking at her in somewhat confused indignation.
“Well done, miss,” the footman congratulated her.
She thought it was rather handsome, with smooth, black-spotted, greenish-brown skin and bright eyes. Most of the tadpole tail protruding between its hind legs had already been absorbed. She should have guessed they were ready to escape from their casserole.
Her captive shifted slightly on her palm and she clapped her other hand over it. “Where shall I put it?” she asked.
“Got a bucket wi' a cover in the scullery, Miss Mimi,” said Jacko. “I a'ready catched all of 'em in there. Just be careful when you takes that cover off to put 'im in.”
Watching every step, she went out to the scullery. On the draining board, beside the empty casserole, was a bucket with a loose-fitting metal lid. She raised the lid an inch and stuffed her frog through the gap. A muffled croaking arose.
Soon all the fugitives were rounded up and transferred to the bucket. “I'd better take them to the pond right away,” Mimi said to Jacko. “They are horridly crowded in there. I'll just go and change my shoes.”
“I'll take 'em for you, miss.”
“Thank you, but I shall enjoy the walk, and the bucket is not too heavy.” She had had enough excitement for one day. A stroll through the gardens would be soothing.
The heavy clouds were breaking up, the summer sun shining warmly through the blue gaps between. It seemed silly to wear hat and gloves for the sake of convention when she was doing something as unconventional as carrying a bucket full of frogs. With Rohan dashing about her heels, she paused to admire the flowers, exchanging a few words with a gardener who was weeding the rose beds.
As she approached the ha-ha, her footsteps slowed. Somehow releasing the frogs would be the end of a chapter. Her acquaintance with Simon had begun with the tadpoles. He had helped her care for them and taken an interest in their development; she wished he was going to be with her when she let them go.
She wished the proposed London Season had worked on him as powerfully as it appeared to have worked on Gerald. Wistfully, she wondered whether Harriet was even now clasped in the viscount's arms. Starting down the ha-ha steps, she was lost in a dream in which Simon held her close—and for once neither of them was soaking wet.
Rohan barked. Startled, Mimi stumbled. In saving herself she dropped the bucket. It hit the stone steps with a clang and tipped over, the lid falling off. From it poured a stream of frogs, hopping, leaping, croaking in joy as they caught the heavenly smell of pond. In an instant they reached the bottom of the steps and bounded across the grass toward the water—right under Intrepid's nose.
With a snort of alarm the gelding reared. Mimi had no sooner realized that Simon was there than he was thrown. His hat flew off, his head met the ha-ha wall with a thud, and he lay still.
* * * *
Simon rose through layers of hazy consciousness. His head hurt but otherwise he was quite comfortable, lying on something warm and soft. He opened his eyes.
Gazing up into worried black eyes, he made no effort to remove his person from Mimi's lap.
“Simon! At last! Are you all right?”
“Never felt better,” he said dreamily. “Will you marry me, Princess?”
For answer she bent her head and kissed him. Her lips on his were even warmer and softer than her lap.
“I wish I'd kept my promise sooner,” she said.
“No matter now.” He reached up and ran his fingers down the curve of her smooth brown cheek. “You have broken the spell at last.”
She giggled. “You mean you have turned into a prince? You don't look any different.”
“Not quite a prince. Merely an earl, but I'm going to be a marquis.”
“You are quizzing me.”
“Not at all. I'm Gerald's cousin, Earl of Derwent and heir to the Marquis of Stokesbury. Do you mind, love?”
“Mind? Good heavens no. Does that mean you are rich?”
“Moderately. I shall be very rich one day.”
“So you don't care about my dowry?”
“It's you I want, Princess. I wouldn't give a sailor's curse for your fortune.”
“I'm glad.” She kissed him again, in a thoughtful way. “Then you won't mind if I give it back to Papa to found another orphanage?”
He began to laugh, which hurt his head so that he groaned. That required several more kisses to cure, and they were thus pleasantly engaged when a loud “Halloo” interrupted them.
Rohan barked a warning as Gerald rode up, leading Intrepid with Henry clinging to the saddle. The little valet slipped thankfully to the ground.
“My lord, thank heaven you are safe! I was hanging out your shirts to dry when your horse galloped past me alone.”
“Nothing would calm the man but that I bring him with me to find you,” drawled Gerald. “Deuced bad form, you know, old fellow, lying in a lady's lap in public.”
“It wasn't public a moment ago,” Mimi pointed out.
“She's not a lady, she's a princess, and I'm going to marry her. You should try it some time, coz.”
“I shall. I am going to marry Harriet Cooper.”
Mimi clapped her hands. “That's splendid!”
“Another of your plots?” Simon asked suspiciously.
“Of course. All my projects always turn out for the best.”
Gerald laughed. “I'm in no position to quarrel with that, ma'am. Am I to take it, coz, that you have informed your betrothed of your true rank?”
“Say rather that she has restored me to it.” A look of understanding passed between the two cousins. Lady Elizabeth's cruel enchantment was finished and to be forgotten. Simon would never again doubt his own worth.
“My lord, my lord!” Henry sank to his knees beside them in his excitement. “I may serve you again? I may send for your trunks?”
“Good gad no! I mean, yes, you may serve me, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you torture me with fashion again.”
“A few alterations,” the valet murmured hopefully.
“I trust you do not mean to continue to offend my eyes with the appalling garments you have been wearing these past weeks?” Gerald demanded.
“They're not appalling!” Mimi flared up in defense of her beloved. “Simon shall wear what he wants and be comfortable.”
“Thank you, my love. Now do go away, you two.” Simon made a shooing gesture. “My princess and I have some unfinished business to complete. Where were we?”
“You were about to say that Papa can have my fortune for an orphanage,” Mimi reminded him as Gerald and Henry departed.
“Was I?”
“Yes.” Her kiss was most persuasive.
“All right, I'll make a bargain. I shall forgo your dowry if you promise that when we are married you will perform your scandalous Indian dance for me.”
Her eyes lit with a familiar spark of mischief. “Oh yes,” she said, “I promise. Let's get married soon!”
Copyright © 1992 by Carola Dunn
Originally published by Walker
Electronically published in 2001 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are
fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.