“In the kitchen?” the earl said. “He is very young for that!”
If their father had somehow, and entirely on his own, come to the conclusion that Lord Darling had just been rescued from a stew pot, well, neither Cordelia nor Juliet ever liked to correct their father.
“Never fear, Papa,” Juliet said, “he is ours now.”
“Well, hmm, of course, I am not opposed to having a goat on the estate, there is plenty of room, but there is the matter of getting him there. We should not wish to turn back now. We are nearly at London’s door and it has taken almost a fortnight to get this far.”
“No, of course we would not turn round,” Cordelia said. “We shall take him to Town with us. He will like the back garden, I think.”
“You ought not worry over anything, Papa,” Juliet said. “We have a bottle and understand the recipe for milk. We have things well in hand.”
As the earl generally did not like to worry over things, his brow cleared and he shrugged. The innkeeper approached and he said, “My lady, may I take the kid to the stables for the night?”
“Thestables?” Cordelia said, clutching Lord Darling to her breast. “This poor baby cannot sleep in the stables.”
“He cannot?” the innkeeper asked.
“Certainly not,” Cordelia said. “He must be kept warm and we must feed him every few hours and most of all he must feel secure that he has a new family that will care for him.”
“Can you imagine what he would think if he were to find himself alone in the stables, with only horses looming over him?” Juliet asked.
“I cannot imagine,” the innkeeper said resignedly. “I will make some arrangements. A basket with bedding, I suppose.”
“Soft bedding, if you please sir,” Cordelia said. “Lord Darling has been through it today and must rest.”
Lord Darling nuzzled her and surely he knew he had been lucky indeed to come upon the Benningtons. It seemed that wherever they went, needy animals were to present themselves. They were very like Saint Francis, calling all orphaned creatures to their side.
“He will stay in the back garden?” the earl said softly. “In Town, I mean. He will not be in the house?”
“He will adore the garden, Papa,” Cordelia said. “I am sure of it.”
*
The servants’ hallof Portland Place had emptied, only leaving the butler remaining at table.
Horace Tattleton, butler to the Earl of Westmont, had spent the intervening months between the London seasons in a slow recovery from a harrowing ordeal.
Shocking rumors, three proposed duels, an elopement en masse—could one butler stand up to all of it? If that butler be in service to the Benningtons, there seemed to be little choice.
It had been usual that the quiet of the countryside would restore his shattered nerves following one of the Bennington ladies having gone through her season and then somehow got married by the end of it.
Unfortunately, the countryside was no longer very quiet, what with four cats, two dogs, and a parrot milling about the place.
Really, though, it was the parrot. He would never get used to that creature. He would never be comfortable entering the drawing room and having “murder” shouted at him.
He had been grateful to hear that they were to leave that bird to the care of a housemaid. At least he would not be shrieked at while he was in Town.
Just now, Tattleton scolded himself for his foolhardiness in thinking he was fortunate to get away from the parrot. Of course they could not possibly arrive to Portland Place without some pathetic creature in tow. It had only been his mistake to never have imagined it would be a goat!
How? How had they possibly found a goat that needed taking in?
His name was, supposedly, Lord Darling. He was, supposedly, to live in the back garden and be no trouble to anybody.
But then had come the details accompanying the “no trouble to anybody” claim. According to Lady Cordelia, the kid was too young to stay alone in the back garden just yet, would require a proper bed in the servants’ hall, must be kept cozy, and would need feedings every few hours of a warmed and special mixture of milks and sugar.
Oh, no trouble at all!
He stared down at the little creature, who was just now doing something odd. It would attempt a hop and then stumble and try again. Where did it think it was going? The ceiling?
