The kitten blinked and made a chirping noise, before sauntering to Dom, then stretching up on his boot.
“If you claw those,” he said sternly, “my valet will make you into a muff.”
He strolled over to his desk and the cat followed. “I believe, sir, you are under a misapprehension. I do not like cats.”
Completely ignoring him, the animal laid down next to Dom’s foot.
A knock sounded on the door, and it opened to admit one of his footmen. “Sorry to bother you, my lord. One of the kittens is missing.” He looked down. “There you are, you little beastie. Come with me now.”
As the servant bent down to take the cat, it scooted behind Dom.
The footman gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, my lord. Cyrille here keeps escaping.”
Dom raised a brow. Named so soon? “Where are the rest of them?”
“The young ladies took two, and her ladyship has the other one.” The footman indicated the cat. “But this little devil won’t stay with his sister.”
Dom twisted and stared down at the kitten. “Escaping the ladies already?” The cat rubbed against his boot. “Very well, as long as you don’t make a habit of it, you may hide here for a little while.”
After the footman bowed himself out, Dom addressed the animal again. “Do not become used to staying with me. As I told you before, I am not at all fond of cats and would not have lifted a finger to help you. Unfortunately, your benefactress is unable to house you.”
And the look on Miss Stern’s face when he had agreed to take in the kittens was worth even his boots being scratched.
Cyrille followed Dom when he went to a chair next to the fireplace and picked up a book. “You may lie at my feet. My valet won’t like cat hair on my pantaloons or coat.”
As if the kitten understood, he curled up on one of Dom’s boots and fell asleep. His mother had said they were like dogs, which put him in mind of Poodle Byng. His French poodle accompanied him on carriage drives. Merton glanced down at Cyrille. “Before you get any more ideas, you may not go driving with me.”
The kitten stretched out a sleepy paw and yawned.
“Good. I am pleased we have an understanding.”
He thought back to Miss Stern’s fierceness in rescuing the kittens. How far did her desire to help others go? Was she one of those reformers who tried to assist anyone she perceived to be in need, even when they’d made the decision to live less than honorable lives?
Despite what he had said to Worthington, her birth alone made her unsuitable to be his bride. Alvanley had been right; Dom was making wife hunting harder than it needed to be and all because of a pair of clear green eyes and black hair. Since he had met Miss Stern, the more popular blond-haired ladies seemed to fade into the background. He couldn’t even bring himself to make another list.
He reached down to stroke Cyrille. His mother was correct; the fur was very soft. The kitten rolled over, offering its stomach just like a dog. There was one fortunate thing about having the cats. At least now he would have an excuse to visit Miss Stern. She would wish to know how her protégés were faring.
* * *
The next day, Dom made himself stay away from Miss Stern, attending to the estate business he had neglected the day before. Instead of remaining at home, he had luncheon at his club with Fotherby, then eschewed the Park. But he could not seem to expunge her from his mind, and by late afternoon he was even looking forward to attending the Featherington ball solely so he could see her.
That evening when Dom entered Lord and Lady Featherington’s town house with his mother and Matilda, he caught himself searching the ballroom for Miss Stern, Dorothea. If he had his way, she would be called Thea or Doro. Though perhaps the second was too close to Wellington’s nickname. Thea it was, even if he did not yet have permission to use her first name.
He found her as a gentleman claimed her for a country dance that was forming. Dom’s chest tightened when she placed her hand on the other man’s arm. What was it about Thea that made him want to keep other gentlemen away from her? That gave him the sense she was his alone?
She glanced up. When their eyes met, she smiled. Damn. If he didn’t find something to distract him, he was liable to lean against the wall making a cake of himself watching her. Glancing around the room, he noticed Miss Turley still didn’t have a partner, and he walked over to her. “Miss Turley, may I have this dance?”
She smiled and curtseyed politely as she always did. “Of course, my lord.”
Perhaps he had misjudged her. Still the fact remained that he felt nothing as he bowed and kissed her fingers. None of the warmth or excitement he experienced with Thea.
While taking their places on the dance floor, his gaze strayed to Thea again. He really should focus on a more suitable lady to wed. Someone who didn’t cause scenes in the Park or, come to think of it, have radical ideas about estate management, and saddle him with kittens. His mind boggled at what else she might be capable of, given time. If she felt called to rescue animals, why couldn’t it have been a good hunting hound?
He grinned, then realized Miss Turley thought he was responding to something she’d said. The corners of her lips turned up. She was considered one of the Diamonds of the Season. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to her, but her golden hair and pale beauty didn’t appeal to him. He caught sight of Thea again and could barely keep his mind on his dance partner while Thea smiled, talked and, apparently, enjoyed herself with another gentleman. The desire to snatch her away from the man rose up in him and he let out a low growl.
“My lord, are you all right?” the young matron next to him asked.
“Perfectly. Just something in my throat.” Jupiter, he had to get a hold of himself before he created a scene.
