Page 48 of Miss Beresford and the Beast

Of course it was.

Magnus walked to the door. “We’d best get back to it, then.”

Turner kept pace with him into the hall, unusually talkative as Magnus closed the door after them. “Thought we might have heard something by now.”

“About what?”

“The young lady.”

Magnus descended the stairs in brooding silence. He had foolishly thought the same. That he’d receive a note from Sowerby Hall. Or perhaps another visit from the constable. Something to indicate that Charlotte was settled and that the doctor had seen her.

It was a misguided expectation.

No one in the village owed Magnus anything, least of all common courtesy. It was the chief reason Magnus had ceased showing courtesy to them. Or anyone, for that matter.

Yet he’d shown it to Charlotte when she’d departed. He’d bowed over her hand like a gentleman. He’d even kissed it. An insane impulse on his part, inspired by lord only knew what.

Sentimentality? Fondness? The gravity of the moment?

Whatever it was that had provoked it, the memory of that kiss had been plaguing Magnus’s thoughts like any pernicious demon. Her skin had been silky warm against his lips, her bare fingers curling around his in that same disarming way she had, making him feel…

Something.

“I presume she’s well,” he answered as he and Turner exited into the garden. “There’s no reason to think otherwise.”

“The constable’s plenty reason,” Turner said. “What’d he say he’s called?”

“Reeves.” Magnus’s boots crunched over the broken twigs and brambles that littered the tangled path through the roses. “A newcomer to Bead’s Hollow it seems.”

Turner trudged at his side, unflagging. “Newcomer or no, he’s sure to cut up our peace. And if the young lady mentions that you pointed a pistol at her⁠—”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be sure of it, sir?”

Magnus swatted a thorny branch out of his way. “Because she didn’t when she had the chance.”

Turner batted away the same branch as he passed it. The apple tree lay ahead, with the fresh hole beneath it. Their shovels awaited them close by. “But sir—” he began.

Magnus shot his valet a hard glance. “That chapter is closed, Turner,”

Except for the dog.

Except for these blasted memories deviling him. The softness of Charlotte’s hand. The lush curve of her waist. The unsettling trust in her blue eyes as she’d looked at him.

Except for the smell of her perfume on his pillow.

Scowling, Magnus picked up his shovel. “To work, Turner.”

Turner collected his own shovel with a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, my lord.”

The next day, Magnus moved the wardrobe. It did indeed weigh a ton, just as Charlotte had said it would. For once, Magnus was grateful for his size. Without any help from his faithless valet, he pushed the towering piece of furniture across the floor, revealing Chance’s hiding place.

The little dog was poised in a crouch, a split second away from darting across the room to hide under the bed. As he sprang forward, Magnus deftly caught him in both arms, just as he’d caught him in the garden. Only this time, Magnus slipped a makeshift rope harness around the wriggling beast’s shoulders and neck.

Chance snapped at him, thrashing and baring his teeth like a wild animal.

“Be quiet, you ingrate,” Magnus said. “I’m not hurting you.” He checked the security of the knotted rope, verifying that the harness was snug, but not too snug. “Count yourself lucky you’ve avoided the cabbage crate.”