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Aseries of outraged, muffled honks interrupted his admittedly moon-eyed regard of the delectable MissClarke.

Hunchedover and wearing a gown in an indeterminable shade of brown—or was it drab-green?—a slender young woman bore down upon him. Her rapt attention remained riveted on a fat goose waddling ahead of her.

“SirWaddlesby!” she huffed, grabbing for him and missing. “You are in so much trouble.”

Sir…Waddlesby?

Oh, she meant the goose.

Anembroidered cobalt blue band encircled the goose’s neck, and he clasped a cherry-red glove firmly in his beak.

Dariushad no idea that geese could run so fast.

Thegander’s speed was impressive.

Honk-honk. Honk-honk.

Passersbystopped, laughed, and pointed as the woman chased the naughty wing-flapping fowl.

“SirWaddlesby. Stop this instant. That is not your glove,” she panted as she pelted along, the goose remaining just out of her reach. “It’sMrs. Tenney’s, and if you ruin it…”

Justas Darius stepped onto the last rung, SirWaddlesby spied the ladder and dove between its wooden legs.

Ifa goose could grin in triumph, that dratted creature did.

Therecalcitrant goose’s pursuer realized too late what her ill-mannered pet had done. She tried to stop but barreled full-on into the ladder. In a tangle of limbs, ladder rungs, and feathers, Darius landed atop the woman with a resounding thud.