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“Well you should beg Her Grace,” Arthur huffed.
“One as canny as you must certainly infer what your punishment ought to entail,” Beatrice said.
Mr. Todd nodded. “I shall right my wrongs and be on my way.”
“And how shall His Highness greet that?”
“I—I would not like to say, ma’am.”
“With demotion at best, I hazard.” Beatrice nodded to Ben, who had yet to cease grinning, and shot a cautionary glance at Osborn. The nudge and pull continued, and it was as if she was following it with her own heart. “I agree that you must endeavor to right the wrongs you caused.” He turned to go. “I have not released you.” There was no other word for the sound Osborn made but a squeal. “I also say that Arcadia is in dire need of a steward. I would see that she has a champion within and without these walls, one who will strive to serve her in the best possible way for as long as he wishes, having a hand and a voice in her return to glory. I say that man is you, Mr. Todd.”
Osborn sputtered and ceased at the lifting of her hand. Mr. Todd took a wavering breath and nodded. For the second time, he bared his neck to her and then bowed. “Ma’am, it would be my pleasure and my honor.”
“Excellent.” Her heart beat like a joyful drum. “I shall confer with His Grace about the contracts we need undertake to make this so and shall write to His Highness myself, expressing your willingness at my request to transfer your loyalties to Arcadia. I trust that letter will find its way into its intended hands.”
“I am all that is willing, and I shall devote myself to you for as long as I live.” He paused. “It is my pleasure to inform you I am a fox, ma’am,” he said.
“Thank you for entrusting me with this knowledge,” Beatrice said. “As such, I suspect you prefer the country to the city. This plan is fortuitous in every aspect.”
“You are ensured of my gratitude for the rest of my days.” If he bowed one more time, she suspected Osborn would embark on a rampage.
“One more question,” Beatrice said. “You say the small creatures were none of your doing.”
“They were not,” said the fox. “If I may borrow a few footmen and walk the lands? We may discover some sign of an interloper.”
“An interloper who felled a deer in its prime,” Arthur said, “and transported it from the boundaries, in its dead weight, to display in my garden. And who had the strength to climb the roof to stuff a dead squirrel down my chimney.”
“I am not one for tormentinganimali puri. While a deer of such size would be nothing for one even as small as I, I say again it was not my work.” As their steward’s choler rose, a decidedly northern accent slipped into his usually cultured speech. “Regarding the chimney, on my part I stuffed it with several dead lengths of vine from the glasshouse. As to that, my concerns about some of the growth there need to be addressed, given the presence of the children.”
Beatrice turned to Ben. “I believe you are the man for that job, Lord Swinburn.”
“So I am. Off I get.” Ben bowed to his brother, who rolled his eyes, and as he passed her, he whispered, “Well played, Be—Beatrice,” and left with Arcadia’s new steward.
She turned to the duke, who was engaged in scowling at the blotter on the desk. “Your thoughts, Osborn?”
“Oh, how kind of you to ask my opinion.” He glared around the room and flicked a glance at her, her chest. She lay a hand over her heart as Ben had, and it only served to infuriate him further, if his growl was any measure. “You will have your way when it comes to that fox, but you may not have your way in all things.”
“Did I not…” Had she not done what was required of her? She could not describe what had transpired, how she knew without a doubt what course to take. The prodding beneath her breastbone had subsided, and yet having followed it, she could not see that she had gone wrong.
“Did you not what?” He rose, his massiveness making an overwhelming impression, as she expected he’d intended.
She hid her fists at her sides, behind her skirt. “I did what the atmosphere in the room asked of me.”
Osborn did not greet that statement with scorn nor with hilarity nor with dismissiveness. Worse, he regarded her, his expression unreadable. Finally he grimaced and shook his head. “I will not address this.”
“Do you know what I’m referring to?”
Osborn shrugged, mute, and it incensed her as nothing had yet. “Well.” Beatrice collected the detritus on the table. “Do you rescind my decision?” He shrugged again. “Then I shall carry on with my day. I suggest you take yourself outdoors where you may unearth better humor.”
***
Being out of doors was a tonic for one such as he, and yet he found taking his Shape did not appeal. He remained in his manskin and wandered the grounds, noting the newly refurbished kitchen garden and going for a peek at the cottages. The builders fell over themselves in deference, and he was pleased to see, and said as much, that Her Grace’s directives had been undertaken. A visit to the barn almost sent the draught horses into a frenzy, and the footman in charge—the stable master now, he supposed—was not backward in going forward in telling him off. It was quite refreshing.
The glasshouse was on its way to complete repair thanks to the veritable swarm of footmen on the roof, replacing broken panes and securing beams. Arthur nodded to Ben and Arcadia’s newly minted steward as they convened over the mysterious growths. He did not wish to dwell on what had transpired in the study, which he was certain Ben was keen to discuss. He could see the look in his brother’s eye from where he was and hoofed it away.
He would not address it, in the main because he could not explain it. Thesentiorequired a ceremony and, yes, a fire to stand around, to open it and unite a clan. It also required the apogee of the hierarchy to be sworn to duty, and that had not been the case this morning.
How, then, could thesentioflow? That fox was not his Beta.
