Page 129 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“I am so glad! She is a lovely woman. They are both very kind. Indeed, all the siblings and their spouses are delightful.” She pulled a face. “Even Lady Kathryn, as much as it pains me to admit it.”

“She is exceedingly likeable,” he agreed. “It is part of her evil charm.”

She laughed. “I think, despite some strong evidence to the contrary, that evil might be a bit strong.”

Andrew was not so sure. “You are right about the siblings being charming,” he said. “Even my cousin’s wife has grown on me over the months I’ve lived at Chatham Park.”

“Were you at loggerheads initially because you abducted her sister?”

“Kidnapping Selina did not help matters,” he admitted dryly. “But Hyacinth was not fond of me even before that.”

She gave him a querying look, but the duchess’s masquerade was not Andrew story to share, no matter how much he might have liked to satisfy her curiosity.

“I do hope that Mr. Higgins is taking care of Terrence,” she said after a moment.

Andrew blinked. “Er, Terrence?”

“That is what I’ve named the dog you helped me rescue.”

“Terrence?”

“What is wrong with that name?”

“Terrence?”

“Why do you keep repeating it in that obnoxious way? Terrence is a fine name”

“Terrence might be a fine name—not that I am willing to concede that just yet—but it is still a name for a dog that spends its days in a lady’s lap, drinking milk from a saucer, wearing a bow on its head.”

She laughed. “How ridiculous. What would you call him?”

“He is clearly a survivor of more than a few battles and deserves a suitable moniker.” He paused. “I think Scrapper fits him admirably.”

“Scrapper? Scrapper? That is exactly the sort of name that will give a dog terrible ideas.”

“Such as?”

“Such as wandering away from home and getting stuck in traps. Haunting neighborhood chicken coops and drawing the ire of farmers. Pushing over rubbish bins and—why are you laughing?”

“Because you are adorable.”

Rather than look pleased, her mouth immediately screwed up as if she had just sucked a lemon. Ah, Miss Martin didn’t care for compliments. Andrew would have to break her of that after they were married.

“In any case,” Andrew said, “You don’t have to worry about the dog as Mr. Higgins isn’t the sort to neglect any animal under his care.”

She looked pleased by his reassurance. “I’m sure you are right.” She gestured to the wreckage of their luncheon. “We should return the pie to its ice. Do you think it will keep?”

“Surely until later today.”

They busied themselves tidying up. All too soon they were finished with their chores and, once again, staring at each other.

“Do you—”

“Should we—”

They both laughed. “Ladies first,” he said.

“Do you want to play a game?”

“I would rather get some exercise.” Andrew wasn’t accustomed to lolling about all day and it was making him restless.

“Exercise? What do you mean?”

Only with great effort was Andrew able to bite his tongue and rein in his first response.

Instead of scandalizing her and drawing her sour lemon look, and perhaps even getting a well-deserved slap, he said, “Waltz with me.”

She gazed steadily at him for so long he expected a no, thank you.

But then Miss Martin surprised him yet again and said, “Very well.”