The baby was perfectly happy in her uncle’s embrace, and Kettering had a premonition, then, or a vision of life as it would unfold for Willow Kettering.
“Willow wore the wrong footwear for the job,” Worth said, pulling his wife down beside him. “Haring all over London in riding boots wasn’t well advised. Willow will soon be wealthy enough to have a new pair made every day though.”
“Woof.” Even more quietly, but surely a vote of agreement?
“The rewards were that sizable?” Jacaranda asked, tucking herself beneath Worth’s arm.
“Willow’s imagination is that sizable,” Worth said. “You look entirely at home with an infant in your arms, Dorning. Shall we schedule a meeting with a few fellows I know next week?”
Worth might as well not have spoken, for Willow was nuzzling the baby, and she was cooing and waving her arms about in a manner that did queer things to Worth’s heart.
Willow would do very well with his enterprise. Very well indeed. He cared for those around him, he paid attention, he worked hard. Worth was proud to call him a friend, prouder to call him family.
“Never underestimate a Dorning,” Jacaranda whispered, kissing Worth’s cheek.
“Schedule the meeting no later than the first of the week, please,” Will said, passing the baby over to her father. “I’d say we hold this gathering tomorrow, but I must convince Sycamore that it’s time he became at least a nominal scholar, and I’ve a few other errands to tend to.”
“What do you suppose Lady Susannah will make of this venture, Will?” A man not yet married might neglect to consider his wife’s reactions, and that man would learn to regret his oversight.
“Lady Susannah is the one who convinced me I should attempt this,” Will said, offering Georgette a gentle tug on each ear. “You should have seen her ladyship, Kettering. My prim, bookish, retiring daughter of an earl came stealing down the barn aisle armed with nothing more than a tattered parasol. She was more menacing than a Highland regiment in battle regalia, and all because Effington was threatening Georgette.”
The dog whined gently, as if she knew exactly the scene Will referred to.
“Georgette is a lovely dog,” Worth said, though a few months ago, he would have felt silly calling any dog lovely.
“She’s only a dog,” Will said, scratching the mastiff’s shoulder. “A pet, a lowly beast, and that is why Susannah was so determined to protect her. Effington was victimizing the most loyal, blameless creature in the stable. From the start, Georgette has known she could trust Lady Susannah. I can too. Whether my business succeeds or fails, my lady will be content with what we have, provided we have each other, and that, oddly enough, is what compels me to undertake this venture.”
On that profundity, Will pulled his boot back on. Georgette rose with her master, and with a final pat to Meda, and a kiss to Jacaranda’s cheek, the Emperor of Canine Enterprise went sauntering into the night.
“What sort of errands do you think he must tend to?” Jacaranda asked.
“That particular Dorning is hard to read,” Worth replied as contentment and gratitude settled around him. His wife, his daughter, his loyal hound, and all coming right for nearly half of Jacaranda’s brothers gave a lowly knight of business much to be grateful for.
“Is he off to procure a special license tomorrow?”
Well, of course. “Very likely.” Or perhaps a helpful family member would see to that errand for him.
“Shall we go up to bed, Husband?”
“Never let it be said I refused my wife’s invitation to go to bed, but might we bide here for a moment first, Jacaranda? The baby’s content, the night is lovely, and I’m endlessly happy simply to spend a few minutes enjoying it with you.”
Meda rested her chin on the toe of Worth’s boot, and Jacaranda cuddled closer. “I love you,” she said. “We’ll get Willow and Susannah a hammock for a wedding present. They have everything else they need to be happy already.”
“A hammock,” Worth murmured. “Perfect.”
*
“Willow, you need not have done this,” Susannah said, gazing at the ring in the little box.
Will had run about like a March hare all morning, fetching the special license, choosing a ring, answering notes from Quimbey, Tresham, and Casriel, and opening a deluge of correspondence from people either congratulating him on solving the London dognapper crimes or imploring him to work with their brilliant, beautiful, tireless, et cetera, et cetera, dogs starting immediately.
Some of them had named sums too, which was damned silly. Susannah had been the one to trail the dognapper to his lair and foil his worst intentions.
“I wanted something that went with your eyes,” Will said, slipping the ring on her finger. “Something as blue as a perfect sky over a perfect Dorset summer day. I’ve always loved your eyes.”
Loved her.