“You’re close,” Will said, petting the dog once with the hand Lady Susannah hadn’t touched. “Try again. Comus, down.”
Quimbey remained quiet while Comus cocked his big head, his expression suggesting he was trying to puzzle out what a fellow had to do around here to get a bite of cheese.
“Comus, down,” Will said again, repeating the hand signal. One paw stretched forward as if the dog might be considering a lie down in the grass. “Good boy.”
Down he went.
“You praise him, Your Grace,” Will said, passing the duke a piece of cheese. “Tell him what a good, smart, clever fellow he is.”
“He’s a big, strong, energetic fellow.” Quimbey patted the dog’s head and dropped the cheese between enormous paws. “He’s always a saint for you, Dorning, while for me, he’s deaf, rambunctious, and stupid, rather like half the young men in London. I say, is that your Georgette keeping the young lady company?”
“Georgette is with Lady Susannah Haddonfield, Your Grace. A friend of long-standing.”
Quimbey was a bachelor, universally liked, and more shrewd than he let on. When he died, a nephew would inherit the dukedom, unless a young bride caught the duke’s eye and presented him with a son. Nearly a half century of debutantes had tried, and so far, Quimbey had remained charmingly impervious.
“I knew Lady Susannah’s parents,” Quimbey said. “The present earl seems a fine man. Too smart to acquire any unruly puppies.”
Comus, who had been sprawled in the grass, rolled over to expose his belly. His tongue lolled, and his tail wagged even in that undignified posture.
“Comus is a happy fellow, Your Grace, and he likes you.” Will liked the duke too, as did Georgette, and Georgette’s assessment of character was faultless.
“Let’s greet the young lady,” His Grace said, tugging gently on Comus’s leash. “Comus, heel.”
After three tries, with Will reminding the duke to stride off as if he expected the dog to come along, Comus eventually recalled this command as well.
Lady Susannah rose and curtsied to the duke, with whom she was apparently acquainted. Comus and Georgette touched noses, for they were acquainted as well.
What would touching noses with Lady Susannah be like?
“I’ll leave you gentlemen to your canine dame school,” Lady Susannah said, gathering up her bonnet and plunking it on her head a few minutes later. Her tone suggested Lady Della and the viscount would not be an improvement over present company.
“A moment, my lady.” Will repositioned the bonnet and tied the ribbons in a bow. “A pleasure to see you, Lady Susannah, and we will definitely be calling upon you.”
We, meaning Ash and Cam, who needed to work on their manners, and Casriel, who needed to acquire a wife. Will’s role would be supervisory.
Mostly.
“Good day, Your Grace. Mr. Dorning.” Her ladyship curtsied prettily, kissed Will’s cheek, and strode off.
Kissed his cheek, in public, out-of-doors, with a damned smirking duke and two dogs looking on. Then her ladyship disappeared down the path, not so much as a bush rustling in her wake.
“Down, Mr. Dorning,” His Grace said. “A handy command to know in many circumstances.”
Georgette woofed and Comus resumed trying to pull the duke off his feet. Will helped himself to a nibble of cheese and thanked God grown men were not, in most circumstances, afflicted with visibly wagging tails.
Three
Susannah wanted to run, to whoop and leap and yodel for joy.
She’d surprised The Honorable Mr. Willow Dorning, had caught him off guard, and left him smiling faintly in the shade of the maples, a duke and two dogs looking on. Will was devastatingly attractive when he smiled. She’d forgotten that about him.
When he smiled, all the affection in his nature bloomed in his gaze, and for a moment, he exuded such warmth of heart as not even the Bard could have adequately described.
“Well done,” Susannah assured herself. Will Dorning had given her flowers after all, and in public. He’d called upon her at home, he’d laced his fingers with hers, and, oh, the park was indeed a lovely place.
Not that she had designs on Mr. Dorning, of course, though he was an old and dear friend, and his brother had taken notice of Della.
And that business with Susannah’s plainest, oldest bonnet, while Quimbey had stood by, petting his dog and looking bemused.
Will Dorning had taken Susannah in hand so…so…matter-of-factly, repositioning her hat gently, tipping it back an inch to reveal her face and tying the ribbons off in a jaunty side-bow. He’d simply put her to rights, and affection for him, for a man who’d see Susannah Haddonfield? had inspired her kiss.
Life was so lovely.
Susannah rounded a stand of lilacs past their prime, and all her joy dimmed. Viscount Effington was standing too close to Della by half, his golden male beauty a contrast to Della’s darker coloring.