Clara seized the gate’s handle and turned it, happy to find it unlocked. She pushed the gate open to behold the scene inside.
Harvey, who’d recovered some of his spirit, gamboled across the bare, flat grass of the garden. Alden, in shirt sleeves and a pair of trousers that had become very wet, chased him.
A slender man with a balding head stood near the garden shed next to a large wooden tub whose sides were dark with water. The man, whom Clara recognized as Milford, Alden’s valet, wore a prim suit that was quite dry.
Harvey spied Clara in the gateway and made for her, eyes lighting. Alden veered after him.
“Shut the gate!” he bellowed.
Clara did so quietly, then crouched down as Harvey ran at her. He was a changed dog from yesterday, still painfully thin, but with tail wagging and interest in his eyes. He was also sopping wet.
“Good morning, Harvey.” Clara smiled as Harvey skidded to a halt to stick his nose into her face. She pushed him gently aside and grasped his collar, rising to lead him back toward Milford and the washtub. “Good morning to you too, Lord Alden.”
Alden, hatless, his thick hair mussed by the breeze, grunted something, then accompanied her, limping, to the tub.
“In you go.” She half lifted, half tugged Harvey back into the water. “Alden will get you all clean.”
Milford silently handed Alden a sponge.
Alden sent him a sour look but took it up and bent to slosh water over Harvey’s coat. Before he could begin scrubbing with the sponge, Harvey shook himself, covering Alden from head to toe with muddy water.
Clara, who’d backed quickly from the deluge, laughed. Milford, a proper gentleman’s gentleman, betrayed amusement only with his eyes.
She unbuttoned her coat and slid it from her shoulders. Milford instantly stepped forward to take it from her.
“Thank you,” Clara said in true gratitude, and Milford nodded.
She’d donned an older frock, one she used to assist the housekeeper, muck about in the garden, or help Emily with her craft projects, which usually involved much sticky glue. She unbuttoned and rolled up her sleeves, then took the sponge from Alden as he ineffectually tried to use it on the dog.
He blinked at her but relinquished it. While Alden held Harvey still, Clara soaped up the sponge from the cake that lay on a stone next to the tub. Alden scooped more water over Harvey’s back, and she began to scrub.
It was a long, wet, messy process. Harvey’s coat must have had four layers of grime on it, and it came off little by little. The dog enjoyed himself grabbing for the sponge, trying to eat the soap, and shaking off every time they rinsed him.
Alden grumbled and cursed, while Clara continued to laugh. Eventually, Alden began to laugh as well. Harvey seemed determined to drive them to distraction, his antics growing bolder as his coat became cleaner.
“His fur is golden brown,” Clara said in surprise when Alden rinsed him a final time with a bucket of clean water. Milford had traveled back and forth to the pump many times during the procedure. “I wonder what sort of dog he is.”
“I think he’s just adogdog,” Alden answered. “Mixed ancestry, as it were.”
Harvey shook again, hard. Alden leapt away to avoid the spray, stumbled, and went down on his back.
Clara surveyed him with glee. “You deserved that. He’s more than just a dog. Aren’t you, love?” She helped Harvey out of the tub, grabbed the towel Milford handed her, and began to rub the dog down.
“Retriever, my lady,” Milford said. “Possibly crossed with an Irish setter. A handsome dog, or will be when he’s back to health.”
Harvey seemed pleased with this assessment. Alden remained on the ground, propping himself on his elbows to watch Clara dry Harvey off. Harvey seemed to like the friction of towel on his fur and wriggled against it.
“I’ll fetch more towels, my lady.” Milford took up the pile of sodden ones Clara was producing and strolled into the house.
“Did you have breakfast, Harvey?” she asked.
“He ate two beefsteaks, most of a chop, and followed that with a ham bone Milford found for him to gnaw.” Alden heaved himself from the ground. “That is, after he thoroughly licked my face this morning to wake me. I had to have almost as profound a scrub as we gave him.”
Clara raised her brows. “He slept in the house with you?”
“No, I bunked down in the shed with him. Milford would have had much to say if I’d brought him into the house in the state we found him in.”
In spite of what must have been an uncomfortable night, Alden looked refreshed, the gloomy lines in his face eased. He stood easily, hands on hips, watching Clara without the standoffishness he’d shown yesterday. That was, at least, before he’d kissed her.
