“And you are…” Peter allowed his voice to trail off encouragingly.
“Oh! I am Georg… George Mor-Morley.Mr. George Morley.”
“How may I help you, Mr. Morley?”
“I think… I believe…” Mr. Morley wrung the brim of his hat again, looking almost frantic. He would ruin it at this rate. “I think you have my otters.”
“I am in possession of a set of otters, but I don’t know if they are yours.”
Mr. Morley sat up straight, his face suddenly aglow. “And they are… well?”
“They are currently in the chicken coop after making a mess of Mrs. Barwick’s kitchen. She is quite put out with them.”
“They can’t help themselves. They’re only animals, after all. But I have raised them from pups, ever since the Prince Regent himself gave them to my father.” Morley raised his chin and glared at Peter. “They are mine, and I must have them back. Immediately!”
Peter raised a hand, and the boy—he could be no more than a boy—sank back into his chair, mouth tight but dark eyes ablaze.
“I must be confident they really belong to you before I allow you to have them. Describe them.”
Morley brightened at once. “As far as I have been able to determine, they areLutra cinerea,most likely from southern India, or possibly the Malay peninsula.I have corresponded with Herr Illiger in Berlin and sent him my drawings and he agreed with me that they are almost certainlyLutra cinereaand not ordinary English otters.”
Peter nodded as though he understood more than one word in three as Morley continued his lecture. Natural philosophy had never been his strong suit.
“They are certainly not ordinary otters,” Peter ventured when Morley paused to take a breath.
“My father and I nursed them back to health when he first received them from the Prince Regent. The rest of the litter died, sadly, but we were able to save three by providing them with a diet of ground oysters and salmon mixed with goat’s milk. Bonny seems to be the matriarch—she is the one who guards Betsy and Buttercup when they play. Most species of otters are solitary creatures, but my studies indicate a family grouping is common for otters from the Malay peninsula…”
As the boy rambled on, Peter sat back in his chair. For his money, Mr. George Morley did seem to be who he claimed to be, and to be very familiar with the otters, so that much was ensured.
“And how do you plan to care for the animals, Mr. Morley?” Peter said as the flow of information slowed.
A flush warmed the young man’s cheeks. “That is no concern of yours, sir.”
“It certainly is my concern. You have already told me these otters were entrusted to your family by the Prince Regent himself. Do you have a safe place to care for them?”
“I… I…” Morley’s righteousness deflated. “No. No, at present time, I do not.” His hands clenched on his hat again, crumpling the brim. “To be perfectly honest, I am… I am somewhat between lodgings myself at the moment.”
Peter raised his eyebrows. “Between lodgings?”
Morley’s hands twisted again, and he swallowed hard. “I was… was forced to leave my previous situation. Quite abruptly. I came in pursuit of the otters, but I had not… I did not think…”
He trailed off, looking down at his abused hat, and then chuckled mordantly. “I suppose I never gave much thought to what I would do once I found the otters.”
Peter contemplated Morley for a long moment. The boy was clearly in some sort of trouble. And it was his duty as a gentleman and a clergyman to help those in trouble, was it not?
Once the thought came to him, he knew there was only one solution.
“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to take such valuable property with you when you have no way to care for them.” As the boy opened his mouth to protest, Peter raised a hand. “You will need to stay here until you are certain of your next move.”
“Here?” Morley glanced around the room. Peter had to admit it was quite small compared to the vast rooms he himself had grown up in, but it was handsomely appointed while still being a comfortable place for the villagers to approach him.
“The cottage is not large, I will admit—much of it is still closed off and there are only eight bedrooms—but Mrs. Barwickcan air out one of the smaller ones for you. I promise, you will be perfectly comfortable.”
“And my otters will be safe? You are not planning to send them to Mr. Sloane?”
“Yes, you and your otters will be safe here,” Peter said reassuringly. He was concerned by the boy’s frantic agitation. Had he escaped an overbearing parent or guardian? If he had, Peter must gently encourage him to return home. He had no desire to harbor a runaway.
Still seeming stunned, Morley nodded several times in succession before stopping abruptly. After a long moment, he said, “Thank you, Lord Peter. I accept.”
