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Oh, catch them, Rosalind! Lady Rotherford waved her lace-mittened hands in the air. They are such fragile creatures. Rosalind dropped her reticule and dashed after the dogs. Fragile, nonsense. They are about as fragile as a pair of draught horses. At the end of the salon, the dogs tore through the barely ajar double doors and into the library, heading directly for the entrance to the garden.

Rosalind shoved one door aside and ran after them. The little beasts were so spoiled they never behaved, and she always was the one who had to give chase. The spaniels sped through the door and down the steps. The man in the garden reached down and scooped up one unruly dog. He thrust the spaniel into her arms and started after the other dog, which had bolted past him in a flash and scampered onto the garden's gravel path.

She had only a brief view of his face, but she would have known him anywhere. This was how Philip Chadwell grew up, tall, wide-shouldered, with a voice like a smooth cello. And a face that was not quite handsome but forcefully compelling in a way that easily met the physical requirements for the appellation of rakehell.

Rosalind handed Popsy into Mr. Clarence's arms and hastened down the steps. Pip, his head cocked to one side and his tail wagging furiously, stood a few feet from Chadwell, waiting for him to give chase. Pip barked twice, obviously delighted to be out-of-doors, and darted away as soon as the captain took a step.

Rosalind took the other side of the garden and approached the spaniel around a manicured border surrounding a tall urn. She was one step away from seizing him when Pip whirled around and flashed by her going the opposite direction. You slyboots! Rosalind halted, confused about whether to keep running after him or coax him into her clutches. The dog stopped precisely halfway around the circular border from her, wagged his plumed tail and barked again.

His favorite game She took a deep breath and pushed her bonnet back and off her head. Elbows wide and fists at her waist, she stared at the silly beast. Come here, Pip, this very moment. Her stern voice only caused the dog to jump and paw the air with his short front legs, then bark even harder. He was ready to play. It's a full fledged mutiny, I'd say. But if you go one way and I go the other, we'll capture the scoundrel. Captain Chadwell's deep voice carried a whiff of humor, and she looked at him with more than a touch of irritation. He was laughing at her again, exactly as he had done years and years ago.

Just as he had done when he chased her with a toad across the park at Rotherford House when she was about eight years old. For a moment they stared across the hedges at each other. With a twinge of amusement, she saw a look of recognition. His eyes were deep gray with flecks of green that must glow when he was on the sunlit sea.

His dark hair was ruffled, his clothing undistinguished, yet he had an unmistakable aura of strength and authority. Just as she was about to make the capture, Pip dived into the bushes, emerging beside a clump of daisies which he promptly flattened, hopping up and down with a look of pure joy in his bulging dark eyes.

Rosalind stopped beside Captain Chadwell, flustered and quite disheveled. She felt inappropriately warm and appropriately wary, uncomfortably conscious of both her disarray and her closeness to him. Try this. He took out a large white handkerchief, knotted it, and tucking the ends into the knot, gave it to Rosalind. Here, Pip. She waved the makeshift ball at the dog then tossed it toward the house.

Missy Elliott Becomes First Female Rapper to Get Songwriters Hall of Fame Nomination

Pip raced toward it and pounced. Captain Chadwell snatched him up and tried to dislodge the once-pristine linen from between Pip's jaws. Without success. A mere scrap, sacrificed to the cause. He handed her the dog and bowed. A pleasure to see you again, Rosalind.

Her cheeks warmed, and she silently cursed her missish tendency to blush. She very much wished she looked her best, cool and serene in a silken gown instead of hot and rumpled in a wrinkled muslin. I thank you for your gallant rescue, Captain Chadwell.

Missy Elliott and Her Feminist Legacy Inducted Into the Songwriters Hall of Fame

I must go Rosalind dipped a little curtsy and hurried back to the house. Glancing back more than once, she saw the captain sit on an iron bench, lean back and stretch out his legs. Just inside the library, she handed the panting dog to her grandmother. Pip, you naughty, naughty boy!

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You've lost your ribbons and you are full of twigs and leaves. Lady Rotherford marched back into the drawing room, keeping up a steady discourse all the way. Pip, I don't know which is worse, your getting all messy or poor Rosalind having to talk with that despicable Chadwell fellow. Rosalind followed, about to object, but Mr. Clarence, met them in the center of the room. Haeffer is ready to see you, milady. Take care to avoid him, Lady Rotherford said. You have your reputation to think of. She started up the stairs in the company Mr. Still heated from her exertions, Rosalind removed her pelisse and shook out the skirt of her simple sprigged muslin gown.

She took a little brush from her reticule and went to one of the tall mirrors above a gilded pier table.

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Where to start, she wondered, contemplating the disordered strands of honey-gold hair that floated around her face. She was not sure how long he had been in the room when she finally noticed Captain Chadwell inside the double doors. He lounged against the wall, both hands behind his back, as if studying her. My thanks for your assistance, Captain.

She felt her cheeks glowing, but refused to become rattled again. A little gasp escaped her. No, thank you. My bonnet will cover She felt behind her back. Now what happened to my bonnet? He swung it out from behind him. I rescued it from the lilac branches. He came closer, but did not offer her the hat. I fear you are no more careful of your apparel than you were as a child. She grinned. As I recall, you chased me into that mud in fear of my life. That was my best white dress I ruined.

He walked over to the sofa and placed the bonnet beside her pelisse. I like you much better without the chapeau anyway. He sauntered over to the mirror and stood beside her. Your grandmother warned you not to speak to me. Grandmother spoke quite out of turn. I think she was flustered to see you in Bath. Flustered was exactly the way Rosalind felt as she twisted a curl around her finger.

I am surprised to be here myself. I am attending my great aunt, Lady Isiline. We arrived last week. Why Bath? She watched him looking at her in the mirror as she ineffectually fiddled with her wind-blown hair. I have several missions to accomplish here. One is to have my sister Lady Charlotte's portrait done. Another is to enroll her in school. Actually, Charlotte is my half-sister, a mere eight years old. My third mission is to escort my aunt to the Pump Room and see to her comfort. But we have not seen you there.

Rosalind felt the power of his gaze as though she were a tiny skiff sailing into the eye of a frigate's cannon. I have been away for many years. I have no idea. He reached over and pulled a pin from her hair. Take them all out. It looks lovely down. Rosalind stopped herself from drawing away in alarm. She had no idea how to respond to his familiarity.

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Can I help you? He was so close she could feel his breath on her neck as he pulled out another hairpin. She quickly grabbed the rest of them and let her hair fall free. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears and her hands coiled so tightly the pins almost cut into her palms. He handed her the two pins he had removed and took a step back, propping one arm on the pier table. Rosalind forced herself back to the conversation. I suspect your great aunt has not come to Bath lately because my grandmother spends most of the year here.

Lady Rotherford and Lady Isiline have been feuding for the last three or four years. I don't know. But my grandmother never goes to London anymore, nor does she visit friends near Lady Isiline's home in Berkshire. Chadwell stroked his chin. Aunt Izzy never mentioned a problem, though I have noticed she is reluctant to go about freely in Bath. She came here only because Dr.

Missy Elliott

Elliott is the first female rapper nominated for the prestigious prize and could also become the third rapper to enter the organization following recent inductees Jay-Z and Jermaine Dupri. The Songwriters Hall gave The Associated Press the list of nominees Wednesday, a day ahead of its official announcement.

Nominated non-performing songwriting duos include P. Eligible members can vote for three non-performing songwriters and three performing songwriters until Dec. It went on to win a Grammy and top the Hot chart for five weeks. Elliott, who came on the music scene alongside mega-producer Timbaland, also worked on multiple songs for the late icon Aaliyah as well as Carey, Janet Jackson, Mary J. Breaking News Breaking News. Songwriters are eligible for induction after writing hit songs for at least 20 years. Detectives seek help to identify person who robbed Carytown business.