Page 87 of A Duchess for his Family

“What is it?” Amelia asked.

Before he could answer, a faint and thoroughly miserable sound emerged. “Meow.”

The girls gasped together.

Marjorie released Benedict and dropped to her knees. “It is a kitten!”

“Do not put your hand beneath there.”

“It may be frightened.”

“It may bite.”

“It is the size of a teapot.”

“Teapots do not possess teeth.”

“Some of Cook’s might,” Marjorie replied. “They are very old.”

Sophia knelt beside her and carefully lifted one of the branches. “Oh, the poor little creature.”

Benedict looked again. The animal was indeed small, unreasonably so. Its fur might once have been white and gray, though mud had rendered the distinction largely theoretical. One ear was folded, its whiskers drooped, and a wet leaf clung to the top of its head with such precision that it looked as if it had dressed for the occasion.

Amelia crouched on Sophia’s other side. “Is it injured?”

“I do not think so,” Sophia murmured. “Only cold, frightened, and exceedingly dirty.”

The kitten meowed again.

Marjorie pressed both hands against her heart. “Oh, it has chosen us.”

“It has done nothing of the kind,” Benedict frowned.

Sophia extended her fingers slowly. The creature sniffed them, hesitated, then crept from beneath the shrub with great caution. It was even muddier than Benedict had supposed. One of its paws sank into the damp earth, and it gave a tiny indignant cry before climbing directly into Sophia’s waiting hands.

She lifted it against her chest. The kitten settled into the folds of her gown as though it had always intended to occupy precisely that place. A dark paw print appeared upon the pale fabric of her bodice.

Benedict stared at it. Sophia looked up at him.

“No.”

She blinked. “I have not asked you anything.”

“You are about to.”

“I might only have intended to comment upon the weather.”

“With a muddy animal in your arms?”

“The weather remains worthy of comment.”

“No.”

Marjorie rose slowly. “Uncle Benedict⁠—”

“Absolutely not.”

Amelia’s face fell. “But it is all alone.”