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CHAPTERSEVEN
The evening did not go well. Rhys barely concentrated on the performance because his thoughts were engaged elsewhere. They were on Elizabeth and the troubling conversation he had with William earlier and his cousin’s interest in Elizabeth.
He knew when Mayton saw what he wanted, and although Rhys was not fond of Elizabeth, he did not want scandal to fall upon her. Something possessive was stirring inside him, and he attributed it to the fact that he had kissed her twice and still had an unfulfilled desire for her. Clapping around him brought his attention back, and he saw that the performance had come to an end. He joined the audience in clapping before leaning close to Lady Irene to dutifully ask her if she enjoyed it.
“I did very much, My Lord,” she replied. “I would love to see it again.”
“Then we shall return,” he said with a smile, and Lady Winston beamed. They left the theater and rode back to Winston House. When they arrived, Lord Winston informed him that Mayton had left an hour ago, and Elizabeth had retired for the night.
“What a charming young man your cousin is, Guildford,” Lord Winston said.
“Yes,” Rhys replied. “He is loved by everyone he meets.”
“Indeed.” Lord Winston beamed, then said, “If you get the chance, Guildford, there is a matter that I wish to discuss with you. Not tonight, of course.”
“I shall call tomorrow then.” Rhys wondered what the matter was, and if it was regarding his intentions toward Lady Irene. He turned to the lady in question and cordially kissed her hand. “Have a good night, My Lady.”
“You, too, My Lord.” She curtsied gracefully.
Rhys took his leave, and halfway through his journey back to his house, he considered turning and visiting his mistress, but he decided against it because he knew he would not want her. It was as though Elizabeth was ruining him, and he had only touched her on one occasion.
He arrived at his Manor, and as he moved to climb down from the carriage, he heard movement underneath his seat. The first thing he saw when he looked down was a white tail.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered as he bent to take a look. “How did you get in here?” he asked Brutus, who quickly crawled out of his hiding place and leaped down.
“John, catch the dog!” Rhys called to his coachman as he climbed down after him
Brutus evaded the coachman and ran up the marble steps to the house, wagging his tail. Rhys’ brows rose, and he turned to John. “How did he get in the carriage?”
John shook his head. “I do not know, My Lord. Never saw him.” He contemplated having John return the dog to Winston House, but Brutus looked as if he wanted to be there. After all, he had snuck into the carriage, and now he waited at the top of the steps before the front door.
“Do you wish for me to return him, My Lord?” John asked.
“No, I will return him myself tomorrow.” He gave the coachman a nod. “That will be all.” The butler opened the door as Rhys walked up the stairs, and Brutus walked into the house as if it belonged to him. The dog was in possession of as much audacity as his mistress.
“Welcome back, My Lord,” the butler said, but his eyes were on Brutus.
“Thank you, Smith.”
“I see we have a new guest.” Smith smiled when Brutus walked into his grandmother’s favorite drawing room.
“Yes, we do,” Rhys said. “Please ensure he is looked after.”
“At once, My Lord.”
He strode to his study after handing Smith his greatcoat and hat. Brutus followed him instead of staying in the drawing room. Rhys stopped and looked down at the beady-eyed creature. “Did she send you to spy?” he asked. Brutus tilted his head as if to deny. “She will be worried when she discovers you are gone.”
Instead of whimpering and looking as though he regretted his decision as Rhys expected, Brutus barked and hung his tongue out as his tail swished about.
“Unbelievable.” Rhys shook his head and opened his study door. “Come in. Acquaint yourself with my den, so you will have something to report to Elizabeth.”
* * *
“Where did you find such an adorable creature?” the Dowager asked when he walked into the morning room the following day. She was stroking Brutus’ long ears, and he appeared to have had a good night.
Rhys had handed the dog to Smith before he retired the night before. He had wanted to return him to Winston House this morning, but he had woken up late after staying up for most of the night and needed to leave to inspect a building in East End that he was considering purchasing to host prizefights.
“His name is Brutus, and he is Lady Elizabeth’s dog,” Rhys replied.
