“I had no idea.”
“Men and mothers, my friend. They make us think our hair is the essence of our womanhood, no matter how frustrating it gets to keep it brushed and untangled. I assure you, it is not. As can be seen with some of the newer, shorter hair styles.”
“My mother thinks they are scandalous.”
“And I would be willing to bet your mother has never brushed mud out of these curls.”
Clara laughed. “My mother touch a hairbrush? Never!”
Rose chuckled. A knock on the door got their attention, and she called out, “Enter!”
Sarah came in, an amused look on her face. She whispered in her mistress’ ear, and Rose coughed a laugh. “Have him meet us in the entrance hall. Bring Radcliff as well.” As Sarah left, Rose motioned for Clara to stand. “Let us have a look at you.” Clara turned for inspection and Rose nodded. “You’ll do for the walk home. But indulge in a long hot bath when you get there.” Rose grinned. “And burn that dress. Now come with me.”
Clara followed Rose down the broad central staircase of Ashton House, pausing as they reached the entrance hall and she saw Lord Michael Ashton waiting for them, his hands behind his back. Her chest tightened as he smiled up at her, his dark eyes bright with a touch of affection. She dropped into a curtsy almost involuntarily. “My lord. Again I apologize for my clumsy—” Her words cut off as he slowly brought his hands forward.
Cupped in the palm of one sat a tiny white kitten, black tips on its ears and tail.
Clara screeched and bounded forward off the steps. “Pockets!” She tripped on the hem on the chartreuse dress and stumbled, but both Michael and Rose reached out to steady her. Michael’s free hand closed on her elbow, and the heat of his grip sent an unexpected wave of... something...through her. Her gaze held his for a mere second, then she reached for the kitten. “Pockets,” she murmured again, gathering the soft fluff up near her face.
Pockets mewed, a precious sound, and pressed her front paws against Clara’s cheek. A sweet if sketchy purring emerged from the small body.
Clara looked up at Michael, who towered over her. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you. Where did you find her?”
His eyes seemed to brighten even more. He still held her elbow, but his grip loosened, turning tender. His thumb slipped back and forth over her bicep, and Clara’s breath caught as he spoke, his voice soft and deep.
“In a stall. One of our stable cats had adopted her. He did not want me to take her.”
Rose grinned. “Rufus?”
Michael nodded. The action shook loose a black curl, which drooped over his forehead. “We will have to be careful. Despite the fact that there is so little resemblance, he seems to think she is his child.”
Rose glared at him. “Michael!”
He stepped away, releasing Clara’s arm, color shading his dark cheeks. “My apologies, Lady Clara, if I have been inappropriate.”
“My lord, you picked me up out of the mud. You rescued my kitten.” Clara kissed Pockets on the forehead, then looked at Michael again. “I owe you more apologies than you will ever owe me.”
He stepped toward her again, lowering his head. “Never, my lady.”
A clatter in the hallway beyond the staircase caused all three of them to look as Sarah led Radcliff toward the entrance hall. Cleansed of the mud and resulting embarrassment, Radcliff had returned to her normal fussy state. “I cannot go out the front door! It is not done!”
Clara moved toward the maids. “Radcliff, you are acting as my chaperone. It is fine. In terms of protocol, your accompanying me out the front is better than my slinking out the back with you. Settle down.”
The maid huffed but crossed her arms and fell silent.
“Good start,” Rose muttered under her breath. “She may be trainable yet.”
“I would suggest keeping a tight leash on both, although I would not be averse to finding Rufus tending to a certain kitten again.” Michael’ssotto vocewords still left Clara feeling as if he had stroked her arm once more.
“Michael!” Rose seemed even more startled than before.
Is he flirting with me?Clara looked up at Michael. His eyes still held that light of affection in them, but Clara had never been certain where men were concerned. The entire species befuddled her. “I—” She swallowed any other words.
Rose once again came to her salvation. She urged Clara away from Michael and toward the door. “Ignore my brother-in-law. He is still finding his way back into proper Society. I can only imagine how he will behave at the Aldermaston Ball on Wednesday.”
Clara glanced over her shoulder at Michael, who watched the two women, curiosity on his face. “He will be at the ball?”
Rose nodded. “Escorting his sister. The marquess is courting Beth, so it is vital that she be there.”
