bad. Whatever did he do?”
“I put the lad in the charge of my housekeeper.”
Genie nodded in approval.
“Apparently, this morning, they tried to give him a bath.”
“Very reasonable,” said Genie in agreement. “He did appear to be in need of it.”
“He disagreed. A housemaid was bit, a footman has a black eye, and apparently the bath water was flung on François’s soufflé.”
“That is terribly bad!”
“Quite! You should have seen François. He brought me the soufflé, which had fallen something awful, and he was soaked through. The only one who did not take a bath today was Jem.” Despite the commotion it caused in his mother’s household, Grant could not think upon the incident without a smile.
Genie put her hands on her cheeks in an expression of dismay. “I am sorry I plagued you with such a child.”
“A plague! Yes, that is exactly what my housekeeper called him.”
“We shall definitely need to make better arrangements for him. Where is he now?”
“That is the part I fear will not please you. Jem took off running, with most of the staff in pursuit, destroying a vase in the process. Caused such a commotion I could not help but join in the fun. I chased the miscreant into the garden and over a hedge, but I fear I lost him.”
“You poor man! Well, that explains your cravat. I am very sorry.”
“Thank you for recognizing that the true victim here is me. I fear my cravat is a hopeless case.”
“You must let me at least reimburse you for the vase.”
“Oh no! Did us a favor there. My mother never liked it, but it was given to her as a wedding present by her mother-in-law. Been wanting it gone for years.”
“I am glad it was not of sentimental value.” Genie sighed. “I suppose we did our best. I felt sure I was being led to help this child, but I suppose we cannot help him if he will not allow it.”
“I’m sorry!” squeaked a small voice from under a nearby bush.
“Jem!”
Seventeen
Grant scanned the garden surrounding them, and poking out of a hedge was the red head of the errant Jem. His response was one of joy followed by disappointment with the sure knowledge that Genie would expect him to try again with the ruffian.
“Jemmy! Come here, you naughty boy!” called Genie and the lad obeyed, holding his head low and dragging his feet. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m awful sorry, miss. But they brought a giant scrub brush and said they’d scrub the skin offa me.”
“Jem, I do not believe they were trying to skin you alive. They just wanted to clean you.”
Jem shrugged bony shoulders. “Theys mean coves, miss. Could I not stay wi’ you? Yous right nice.”
“Well, thank you. But how did you get into Lord Bremerton’s garden?”
“Everyone starting yelling and kickn’ up a dust. Them be chasin’ me and howling something fierce. Put me all in a twitter!”
“So you ran back here?”
“Slipped through the garden gate. I ain’t no bigger than a bodkin.”
“You are resourceful,” said Genie. “But you cannot stay here. My aunt would never allow it. Mr. Grant has opened his home to you. You must be appreciative.”
“I am, miss. But could you stay with me too. You could come live wi’ Mr. Grant. Your aunt ain’t very nice. You wouldn’t miss her, I wager.”
“Jem, you must not speak that way of your betters,” chastised Genie.
“Even if it’s true,” muttered Grant. He surveyed the wide-eyed ruffian with a mixture of amusement and horror. “We can give it one more chance, little man,” said Grant. “But my mother will return in a fortnight and we will both be in the suds if she comes home to a household in chaos.”
“Will you come with me?” Jem looked up at Genie with large pathetic eyes.
“Oh, I do not think…”
“Certainly she can, but only for a little bit,” said Grant, snatching the opportunity. He felt very sure he was going to regret giving Jem a second chance and wanted to enjoy a little more time with Genie to make it worth his while.
“My aunt would never allow it,” whispered Genie to Grant.
“But I do not live far. In fact, unless I am very mistaken, our gardens are connected. Is that how you got here, Jem? Show us.”
Jem led them around large, sculpted shrubs and blooming hydrangeas to a small, forgotten gate behind a gardener’s shed. The hinges squeaked in complaint, but with a little muscle from Grant, the small gate swung open. It