Page 57 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“Argent!” a deep voice boomed. “So you’ve come to us again!”
“Lord Cedric. We apologize for arriving at such an early hour.”
The man beckoned them inside. “Nonsense. We’re as eager to meet your new lady as she is to be here!”
Argent murmured a translation, and Tsumiko chose to overlook her host’s presumption, for she was beyond exhausted and looking forward to a better rest than they’d found huddled in the back of the car.
“Lord Cedric, please meet Lady Eimi’s heir, Tsumiko Hajime.”
Tsumiko had plenty of experience dealing with little girls who found St. Midori’s echoing front hall strange and frightening. Feigning awe and shyness, she hid behind Argent, only peeping out when she’d slipped her hand into his.
Her butler’s lips twitched. Was he actually enjoying himself?
She dipped her head at the lean, grandfatherly Englishman with a bristling moustache and twinkling blue eyes. But movement from above drew Tsumiko’s attention to the curving staircase and the young man descending. Even at this early hour, he was nattily dressed and coiffed. He paused at the base of the stairs to nudge a misshapen lump that mumbled and stretched before standing. This second young man was taller, broader, and clad in rumpled pajamas.
Cedric Smythe took over the introductions. “Two of my grandsons. This is Boniface.”
The well-dressed one bowed like a pompous prince. Tucking chin-length auburn hair behind one ear, he studied Tsumiko with thinly veiled amusement. “Welcome, poppet.”
Argent dropped to one knee beside her, ostensibly to translate. “He’s prone to insulting pet names,” he murmured. “Hardly surprising since his mother calls him Bon-Bon.”
Lord Cedric said, “And here is his younger brother Jacques.”
The tousle-haired man crouched before Tsumiko and offered his hand. “Hey, pretty lady.”
His grasp was as warm as his manner, and she liked him a little better than Bon-Bon. But then Jacques’ sleepy smile drifted to Argent and lingered appreciatively.
“Welcome back,” he murmured.
Argent ignored him and quietly prompted, “Greet them properly, mistress.”
Wasn’t he overdoing it just a little? Tsumiko might look younger in this get-up, but she wasn’t six. Still, she pitched her voice a little higher than usual and chose the most sensible honorifics for the occasion, labeling both Boniface and Jacquesuncle.
They floundered visibly.
Argent smoothly inquired, “The usual suite?”
“Yes, yes. Your things are on their way.” Cedric indicated the staff members already shifting the last of Tsumiko’s many trunks. “Settle in. Breakfast will be served in the …”
Their host’s words faltered when Argent swept Tsumiko into his arms and stood. “Send a tray. My mistress has a delicate constitution. She needs today to recover from the journey.”
“Err, yes. By all means.”
Tsumiko flung her arms around her butler’s neck and hid her blush against his shoulder as he whisked her away. Up the stairs and along a hall, he paused outside a set of double doors until the last porter scuttled away.
Argent hesitated again when someone else called his name. Tsumiko peeped out at a woman with lined cheeks and graying dignity. Some kind of housekeeper, perhaps? Her upswept hair was still more brown than gray, and glasses hung around her neck from a delicate chain that sparkled with beads.
“Will your young lady need help with her things?” she asked, speaking slowly and offering Tsumiko a small smile.
“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Draper. That will not be necessary.” And Argent firmly closed the door in her face.
Her voice came again, muffled but polite. “I’ll see to the tray. Ten minutes.”
Tsumiko waited, but Argent didn’t move. Were there eavesdroppers? “Is it safe?” she whispered.
He turned his face into her hair and began to shake.
What …?
