Ah, well. Puppies would be puppies and boys would be boys. “Run along now, and keep Bennie out of trouble.”
“Wait just a minute,” the man with the tassels growled. “You owe me compensation. Your vicious beast ruined my boots.”
“Stuff and nonsense.” Dotty closed her eyes for a moment before fixing the man with a stern look. “It was entirely your fault. If you had acted like a sensible person and just picked the poor puppy up, your boots would not have suffered any damage.”
By this time Charlotte and Louisa were ranged beside Dotty. The footmen were close behind.
“Dotty, are you all right?” Charlotte asked.
“I am fine.” She glanced at Louisa who seemed to be glaring at the man’s companion, whom Dotty had not previously noticed.
The contrast between that man and his friend with the tassels was remarkable.
She knew now what her father had meant when he had spoken disparagingly about “dandies.” The man whose boots Bennie had attacked was obviously one of that set. His shirt points were so high he could barely turn his head. His waist was nipped in and his garishly striped waistcoat was covered by so many fobs and other ornaments, one could hardly see the cloth. Whereas his companion was dressed with elegant propriety in a dark blue coat and buff pantaloons. No gold tassels adorned his boots, which were so highly polished, the sun reflected off them. With stylish gold hair and deep blue eyes, he was very handsome indeed. Then his lips curved up in a mocking smile, ruining the favorable impression she’d had.
“Merton.” Louisa infused her voice with a note of disgust. “A friend ofyoursI suppose.”
Merton cleared his throat. “I dare say, Fotherby, that the lady is correct. You should have been able to stop the animal before any damage occurred.”
Fotherby turned to Merton, staring at his companion as if betrayed. Merton’s masked eyes were unreadable to Dotty, but something in them must have made an impression on Fotherby for he turned to her and bowed slightly.
“Ladies, my deepest apologies for not acting promptly to avoid an unnecessary scene.”
Never one to hold a grudge, Dotty inclined her head, “Your apology is accepted, sir.”
Merton lifted one brow and looked pointedly at Louisa.
“Very well,” she said, in no good humor. “Miss Stern, may I present the Marquis of Merton, a cousin of mine. Merton, Miss Stern, a longtime friend of Lady Charlotte’s family.”
Dom bowed and watched with appreciation as Miss Stern gracefully curtseyed. He had not been paying much attention to her encounter with Fotherby, thinking her just another modern termagant, until she stood and faced him. Botticelli could not have painted such perfection. The glossy blue-black curls peeping out from her hat served as a perfect frame for her heart-shaped face. She gazed at Dom with bright moss green eyes. Surreptitiously, he sucked in a breath. He’d seen many beautiful women this Season, including Lady Charlotte, but none came close to equaling Miss Stern.
ButDotty, what a horrible name. It must be short for something. He prayed it was short for something. If not, the name would have to change.
Cousin Louisa had not given him an indication of Miss Stern’s station, other than that she was a lady. However, a Miss Stern could possibly be the daughter of a viscount. That wouldn’t be bad. Anything lower in rank would not do. Unless her bloodlines were superior. If that was the case, he could make an exception. He had the consequence of the marquisate to consider.
Bowing over her hand, Dom grasped her fingers. “It is my greatest pleasure to meet you, Miss Stern. I pray you will allow me to call.”
“Well,” his cousin said in a voice intended to dampen his spirits, “only if you care to come to Stanwood House. Miss Stern is residing with us for the Season.”
He repressed a shudder at the thought of having to face that brood again, especially Theodora, Worthington’s youngest sister. He kept a smile pasted on his face. “Perhaps I shall.”
The animosity between the two families was such that Worthington had told Dom in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome to court any ladies under his guardianship. Of course, at the time, only Ladies Charlotte and Louisa were at issue. He wondered if that prohibition applied to Miss Stern as well.
After the ladies said their adieus and continued on their way, Fotherby turned to Dom. “How could you make me out to be an object of sport? That Miss Stern had no right to say what she did. Pert is what she was, and I didn’t like it.”
Dom took out his quizzing glass and leveled it on his friend. “I did it in an attempt to save you from continuing to look like a fool. Really, Fotherby, it was apuppy. A rather small one at that.”
Fotherby stared down at his boot.
The mangled tassel hung damply against the moderate shine of the boot. Why Fotherby kept a valet who could not get a decent finish on his boots, Dom didn’t know.
“Yes, well.” Fotherby frowned. “I suppose you’re right. I just don’t like dogs.”
“Not liking dogs”—Dom barely repressed his disdain—“is akin to treason. It is un-English. Everyone has them. How else would we hunt?”
Fotherby remained silent for several moments before turning the subject. “Yes, of course you are correct. Silly of me really. Do you intend to dine at White’s this evening?”
“Where else? Shall I look forward to seeing you there?”
