Tattleton slumped in his seat. He did not know how to stop this calamity from happening. It was like an unhitched carriage rolling down a hill.
The first pup came fully into the world and Charlie deftly cleared the creature’s nose and mouth and tied and cut the cord. The wretched Bess peered with interest at the squirming mass that had just shot out of her and then licked the awful little creature’s face.
Tattleton looked on in horror. The thing resembled a small rat. How many more of them did she have lurking in there? It was to be the cats all over again. No, it could be even worse than the cats, there could be more than four of them!
Lynette rose and hurried toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Tattleton asked her.
“To tell the ladies!” she said, racing up the servants’ stairs.
“No, do not, oh never mind,” Tattleton said softly. As nuisance number two entered the world, Tattleton was beginning to believe that no stops should ever be made on the road to London. A stop was an opportunity for something to get into the ladies’ carriage. If they’d never stopped in the first place, they would not have four cats already and now who even knew how many dogs they would be plagued with.
That road was cursed.
“All right now, there’s a girl,” Charlie said. “Here comes pup number three!”
Oh, hooray.
*
Balthazar had comethrough another of Lady Hightower’s musical evenings relatively unscathed, though he could not say the same for his clothes.
He had stayed behind to have a drink with the lady, she insisting the bottles of Tokay that had been opened should not go to waste. He’d not been sorry to do it, as he did enjoy his private talks with Lady Hightower and the Tokay was indeed very good.
She’d dismissed Bellforce and poured him a glass in her cozy library.
“What on earth has happened to your clothes?” she asked. “You look as if you had a run in with a bag of flour.”
“Miss Mayton somehow managed to get more icing on my person than into her mouth,” he said drily.
“Odd woman. Well,” she said, “duty done for this year. But my word, I never did hear the likes of Lady Rosalind’s playing. It was very disconcerting. One minute I assured myself it was a gentle Irish air, then the next I thought no, it is a fugue, and then the next I thought, goodness I am sure that is a Scotch reel—my thoughts could not keep up with it all. Please do assure me that this is not some new style that has come on the scene.”
Balthazar had laughed and said, “It is her own original style and unlikely to be taken up by theton.”
“That is a relief. The lady really should keep her playing under wraps—what gentleman would be willing to take her on after hearing it?”
He’d tented his fingers and said, “Well, I suppose one need not keep a pianoforte in the house. Or one could just hire someone to play.”
Lady Hightower had leaned forward and peered at him. “It is intriguing that you have thought of two solutions to the problem. Do I detect some interest there?”
“I find Lady Rosalind exceedingly interesting, though not in the way you mean it.”
“I do not see why not,” Lady Hightower said. “Aside from her ghastly playing, which you have already arranged to solve, she seems a lovely girl.”
“Ah yes, she is lovely. However, it is not the right time for me to marry. When I do decide to marry, I shall wish all of my attention to be put to it.”
“Hmm,” Lady Hightower said. “Of course, it is up to you when and how you take the fateful step. I will advise you on one thing, though. I know you always have ladies chasing you who have their eye on becoming a duchess. Very right of you to be cautious. However, be certain you do not outrun a lady you should slow down and stop for.”
“Do you hint that Lady Rosalind might be a lady to slow down and stop for?”
“I haven’t the faintest—only you know your own heart. However, I will say this—no lady who is coldly calculating over how to make herself a duchess would have ever allowed you to hear that racket she produced on the pianoforte.”
Balthazar had laughed, because of course a title would be the last thing on Lady Rosalind’s mind. She had too much of a romantic and fanciful outlook to consider such worldly aspirations.
Perhaps it was a shame he was not in a position to slow down and stop at this particular moment.
He had thanked Lady Hightower for her continuing interest in him. She had called that sentiment a lot of nonsense and asked what else one of the oldest bats in the rafters had to do. She’d made him bend down so she could kiss his forehead before he took his leave.
