Page 17 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“A servant’s child?” he guessed, heading to the sideboard. “Mr. Thornton, would you care for a whisky?”

“Thank you, but I already have one.” He lifted his glass of amber liquid as if to prove his statement.

“Sheldon is a hedgehog,” his mother said.

“Are you still rescuing the wildlife?” He poured himself a tipple, then thought better of it and added another half-inch to his glass. “When will Sheldon be ready for the hedges once more?”

“Never, my darling. Sheldon is a permanent resident of the house.”

His glass paused halfway to his mouth. “A permanent resident?”

Good heavens, he should have given himself a heftier pour.

Vera pursed her lips as if she were delighted at the direction the conversation was headed but didn’t want to let on. He frowned as she laced her fingers together. There was something vaguely mocking and self-satisfied about her expression, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out.

“I’ve had Sheldon for well over a year now.” Jacqueline nodded. “It’s just luck that he and Clarence get along so well.”

“Who’s Clarence?”

Vera pressed her lips together as if she were trying desperately not to laugh. He frowned at her; she arched an eyebrow.

“My fox, of course.”

“You have a fox? A fox who lives on the property?”

“In the house, dear. If it were safe for him outside, I would have kicked him out long ago.”

Stephen looked around the room. “Where on earth is it?”

She waved a hand airily. “Heaven knows. Though lately he’s taken to curling up at the end of Benjamin’s bed, so it’s possible he’s there.”

“He hogs the blankets,” Benjamin added cheerfully.

“You allow him to sleep with your son?”

The baroness frowned, considering. “Allow is a strong word, Stephen. I don’t know that one allows a fox to do anything. They’re wild animals, after all. Very instinctual.”

“Which is why they should remain outdoors, Mother.”

“Don’t be silly—Clarence is quite well-behaved. I’ve had him for years. He’s not at all dangerous. Now, the badger was another thing altogether.”

Vera exhaled something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker; Stephen ignored her.

“Are there badgers in the house right now?” Stephen blinked at the corners of the room.

“Of course not.” His mother said it with the same inflection as one might say Don’t be an idiot. “I’ve just told you—badgers aren’t safe. No—all we have right now is Sheldon, Clarence, a raccoon, a squirrel, and three voles.”

Stephen knocked back his drink and crossed to the sideboard to pour himself another. He’d returned to find his household gone half to Bedlam.

He glanced toward the far sofa. Hamish was grinning at his mother as if she were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Vera was smiling smugly, as if the entire conversation so far had been of her design and was progressing perfectly.

Stephen rethought his second drink; he set his glass down upon the wood with a thunk. He’d need to keep his wits about him—he was vastly outnumbered and didn’t understand the motley array of characters who’d infiltrated his house.

He aimed to get rid of them one by one—starting with this Hamish fellow, who was casting too-familiar looks at his mother, Miss Vera Ashbury, who had some nefarious design, and ending with every single rodent his mother had named in his absence.

“Shall we go through to dinner?” he suggested, offering his elbow to his mother.

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