The cat stared up at him with a knowing look on his face. “Yes, well, perhaps you’re right. Paken?”
“My lord?”
“Have my curricle brought around. I want the bays this time.”
“Right away, my lord.”
Not more than fifteen minutes later, Dom climbed into his carriage and threaded the ribbons through his fingers. A gray streak landed beside him followed by a footman clutching his wig. “I’m sorry, my lord. The little devil got away from me.”
Dom glanced down at the cat. “So you think you’re coming too, do you?”
Cyrille sat up as if he belonged there and was prepared to enjoy the sights.
“Well, don’t forget it was your idea,” Dom muttered to the kitten, before addressing his footman. “He may remain.”
This was how far he had descended, talking to a cat and allowing the damned thing to accompany him. If anyone saw Cyrille, Dom would be a laughingstock. Fortunately, the kitten was small and blended into the seat. Hopefully, Thea would like seeing the animal. After all, he needed some excuse to see her, or he’d look like a regular coxcomb chasing after a mere baronet’s daughter. And that was a blasted lie. She was perfectly eligible—a prickle started on his back as if someone was staring at him, and he almost turned around to see if his uncle was there—eligible for anyone but him.
* * *
Dotty was descending the front steps of Stanwood House accompanied by Charlotte and Louisa when Merton’s curricle drew up. She didn’t dare glance at her friends. Louisa would not approve, and Charlotte saw romance around every corner.
Merton greeted them before turning to Dotty. “Miss Stern, I understand from some of the things you’ve said that you are experienced in training animals.”
She was, but did not recall ever actually mentioning it to him. What was he about? The corner of her lip twitched as she tried not to grin. “I do have some knowledge.”
He held out his arm. “In that case, would you please give me the pleasure of your company and your assistance on a rather urgent matter?”
She raised her brows a little, indicating her interest. “Of course.” Glancing at her friends, Dotty said, “I shall see you later.”
Louisa narrowed her eyes, but Charlotte opened hers wide and said with false sweetness, “Naturally, if Merton requires your help . . .”
Dotty wanted to roll her eyes. No doubt, she and Louisa would be laying in wait for her to tell them about the “emergency.”
“You see”—he led her away and lowered his voice—“I am having a problem with Cyrille.”
“Indeed, my lord?” She tried to keep her tone serious. “What might that be?”
Merton cleared his throat and indicated the carriage. “I do not think he realizes he is a cat.”
She looked in the direction he indicated. There was the kitten. Sitting as nicely as you please, surveying the area. She put her hand over her lips to keep from laughing, but her voice shook with it. “Oh my.”
“You see what I mean?” His voice was grim. Yet when she glanced at him, his eyes danced with amusement.
She glanced over her shoulder at Louisa and Charlotte who were staring at Dotty and Merton. “You go on without me. I think this will take a while.”
Louisa furrowed her brow, and Dotty hastened to reassure her friend. “I shall be fine. It is just a small matter.”
Her friend nodded. Dotty was thankful they had not seen the cat. It would only make Merton the butt of some cutting comments. He handed her up and Cyrille moved to sit between them. She still did not quite know what to make of Merton. He seemed to arouse strong feelings in so many people who were dear to her.
Matt, who’d known Merton most of his life, described him as a cold fish, a man with no personality or heart. She could not agree; in many ways he was very good company, possessing a laconic sense of humor as evidenced by the cat. He was definitely a conundrum, and Dotty loved a good mystery, yet where would that lead her?
He started the horses and once in the Park, Dotty turned back to the problem at hand. “Cyrille appears to be exceedingly well-behaved. What seems to be the difficulty?”
“He doesn’t talk.”
“I beg your pardon?” She tried and failed to hide her grin. “Surely you do not intend to hold a conversation with him.”
The corners of Lord Merton’s lips turned up. “No, but you see, he doesn’t make the usual sounds a cat should make. I do have some acquaintance with the race.”
