She really was much better with animals than people. Grandfather did not permit pets in the common rooms, but there had been a grey cat in the kitchen that she’d often visited and she always had a few nuts to share with the squirrels that came to her garden.
They did not care if she would rather read a book than dance, or upbraid her for being ignorant of social graces that no one had bothered to teach her. If she wished to share a secret, she needn’t worry that they would laugh and call her foolish.
She liked animals and they adored her in return. If the room had been filled with dogs and cats, she would have been the most popular girl in London.
Her mind wandered, imagining. The footmen at the door would be bulldogs, good for keeping out strays. The girls around her? Short-haired cats, many of them solid white to match their dresses and show off jewelled collars to good advantage.
The gentlemen would be a mix of breeds. Hunting dogs for the sporting set. A few elderly bloodhounds watching over their daughters. Terriers and spaniels for the rest.
To rule over them all, the patronesses would be an assortment of Pomeranians and Persian cats. Haughty and disapproving, sitting on velvet cushions and barking or hissing at the other animals.
‘I do not wish to spoil your evening, when you look so happy, Louisa, but it is time to go home.’
‘What?’ She backed hastily out of her daydream to find her brother standing in front of her, grinning at her obvious lack of attention. ‘Percy. Oh.’
‘You were wool-gathering again, weren’t you?’ he said, his smile turning fond.
‘A little,’ she admitted.
‘It is late,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve called for the carriage. I hope you don’t mind but we will be giving Bonham a ride home. He sent his coachman home early. Apparently the fellow’s wife was in childbed.’
‘How kind of him,’ she said automatically, because it was. Not many men of such august rank knew their coachman’s name, much less that his wife was about to give birth. Of course, Thomas Carew, Duke of Bonham, was exceptional in so many ways.
Percy had met him at school, two years before their parents had died. And though they’d all known he would inherit a dukedom, he had insisted that they treat him no differently than they did their other friends. He’d been a gawky boy, all elbows and knees, with a ready smile and an open heart.
The years had not changed his manner. But as for the rest?
She hurried to compose herself before rising and allowing Percy to lead her from the ballroom and out to where the Duke of Bonham was waiting for them.
He lounged against the carriage, his broad shoulders against the door, arms crossed and long legs stretched out in front of him. Another man would look impatient. But Bonham exuded casual grace, his athletic form displayed to perfection as he turned his head and smiled in welcome.
It was too dark to see the single dimple that made the grin ever so slightly mischievous. But she knew it was there and her heart gave a tiny flutter in response.
‘Louisa,’ he said, straightening so he could turn that smile on her and bow.
‘Your Grace,’ she said, curtseying.
He gave the smallest shake of his head, as if the formality embarrassed him, then handed her up into her seat before climbing in and taking a place opposite her.
She wished he hadn’t. It was harder not to stare at him when he did things like that. She did not need to look to recall that face. In the years she’d known him, she’d memorised each feature. His eyes were emerald-green. His hair, soft and dark brown, would be falling in his eyes after a night of dancing, as it always did. As they rode, he would sweep it out of his face with a smooth gesture and a little shake of his head that reminded her of a chestnut thoroughbred scenting the air.
No, she did not have to look. She felt each breath, each blink, each effortlessly perfect movement. The other girls in the ballroom might stare and sigh over the handsome Duke of Bonham. But to Louisa he was just her brother’s old friend and she told herself firmly that she should be immune to his handsome face by now.
Sheshouldbe.
After one quick glance, she turned her head and pretended that her attention was absorbed by something outside the window.
Percy took the seat beside her, then signalled to the coachman and they set off for the duke’s townhouse in Mayfair.
She kept her gaze averted for as long as she could, hoping to discourage the two men from trying to include her in their conversation. The tactic worked tonight, for Percy and Bonham talked for over half an hour about horses and boxing as if she was not even there.
But her luck could not last for ever. Eventually, Percy finished his final anecdote and rediscovered his manners, tapping her on the knee to get her attention. ‘So, what of your evening, Lou? Did you dance much?’
‘Not really,’ she admitted, not turning her head. ‘But it was a lovely evening, just the same.’
‘The last one of the Season,’ her brother reminded her.
‘Really?’ she said, refusing to be bothered. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
