The Haddonfield town house lay ahead, and yet Susannah longed to walk farther in the company of the man she’d never kiss again.
“My family doesn’t know much about the circumstance surrounding my come-out,” she said. Only Will Dorning knew, because he’d been too decent to ignore a girl crying in Lady March’s garden. He had passed Susannah his handkerchief, along with a stout dose of courage, and a plan for enduring the remaining tea dances with her dignity intact.
“Your family doesn’t know what happened, but you will never forget. Cruelty changes us.”
Will stopped again, this time in the shadow of a leafy maple. A hackney jingled past, and Susannah wished he’d lend her his handkerchief again.
“If I had means,” he said, “if I had fewer responsibilities, if I had more time, if I had resources sufficient to support an earl’s daughter…I might tempt you into considering a husband for yourself. But I do not. I have only my friendship to offer you, my lady, and the hope that you will forgive a friend the limitations of his circumstances.”
A beautiful speech, a speech to break a woman’s heart, if she let it.
“Thank you, Mr. Dorning, and good night.”
Susannah would have marched off to join the larger group, but Will’s hand on her arm stayed her. He took off his hat, kissed her gently on the mouth, then walked away into the darkness without another word.
Four
“Kettering, Andromeda is not your wife, that you should pet her and coo at her every instant.” Will kept his tone friendly, lest Andromeda, a sensitive soul, think his impatience was directed at her rather than at his brother-in-law.
“But I want my dog to delight in my presence,” Kettering replied, stroking Andromeda’s head. “Not to the extent Jacaranda does, of course, but a man should be a delight to his dog, don’t you think?”
No creature on earth could delight in Sir Worth Kettering to the extent Jacaranda Dorning Kettering did. Will’s sister was smitten, besotted, top-over-tail, and in love with her dark-haired husband. Kettering’s regard for Jacaranda regularly veered past all of those excesses into public adoration, at least in part for the pure joy of embarrassing Jacaranda’s brothers.
“Think of it this way,” Will said, dropping into a wrought iron chair on Kettering’s shady back terrace. “If you randomly praised your clerks during business hours, for work done well, done poorly, barely done at all, or not even undertaken, what would happen?”
Kettering folded himself into another chair, the dog putting two paws on his knees as if to hop into his lap. She was a full-blooded Alsatian, one Will had coaxed from hiding in the mews one winter morning. Though she’d been starving, bleeding, and wretched, she’d allowed Will to tend her wounds and befriend her.
A creature of such courage and discernment deserved a second chance.
“If I handed out random praise, the clerks would think I’d finally gone daft,” Kettering said, scratching the dog’s ear. She was particularly fond of having her right ear scratched, but Kettering fondled the left. Though her tail was wagging, the dog kept moving her head to encourage Kettering to attend the other ear.
Will’s patience, usually abundant, had lately been in short supply.
“Kettering, when you scratch her ears like that, even the wrong ear, you’re telling her she’s a good girl for trying to climb into your lap. She’s nearly ten stone of teeth and claws, and not everybody will take her friendliness in the right light.”
Andromeda had nearly reached her ideal weight, though she was only a few months into her recovery. Kettering cared for the dog with the enthusiasm of a boy, not the affection of a mature man taking responsibility for his dependents.
“Down,” Kettering said to the dog, finally using the hand signal. “The archbishop says I’m corrupting your morals, my dear.”
The dog, who’d probably been the head of her pack, removed her paws from Kettering’s lap.
Will waited. One… Two…Three… Four… Five.
Hopeless. Kettering had something on his mind today, and no amount of figurative cheese would keep him focused on his pet.
“Kettering, if one of your clerks did a brilliant job, and you ignored his efforts…”
“Good girl,” Kettering said. “Exactly right, Meda. Now can you sit?”
He forgot the hand signal, but she sat because she was a good girl, also patient and devoted to her charge. Kettering stroked the right ear.
“Now tell her all done.” Because Will’s patience with his usually brilliant brother-in-law was all gone.
“I’m out of cheese,” Kettering said, lounging back.
His terrace was a profusion of potted pansies, salvia, ferns, and lavender. Lady Susannah would love to read away a morning here. A hammock would be a perfect addition, and for her, a lap cat.
Will surrendered a morsel of cheese, though the moment had passed for teaching the dog a connection between her good behavior and her reward. She should have been given the all done signal before her master had settled on the terrace.