She had only her reticule, which was at least weighted with the remains of the sonnets. Effington was shouting at all and sundry, probably upsetting the dogs more, and the horse was unhappy as well.
“Hush,” Susannah whispered. “There now, it’s all a lot of bother caused by stupid men taking advantage of poor creatures who can’t help themselves. Are you Caesar? You look like a Caesar.”
The growling stopped, but the commotion was dying down too. Only Yorick continued to yip and bark, drawing Effington’s ire for his continued noise.
Susannah held out a hand to the dog and looked away, as if she fully expected her fingers to be where she left them after a thorough sniffing over.
Delicate, damp breath caressed her hand.
“Good boy,” Susannah whispered. The dog licked her fingers and crawled closer. “Good boy, Caesar,” she whispered again.
A great tail began to thump against the straw, and Caesar barked once.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. Susannah tried tugging on a large, doggy ear. Slowly, repeatedly, and the tail only thumped faster.
“Make that damned dog shut his mouth,” Effington said. “And get that other damned dog into a stall before he chews through the net.”
Caesar barked again, a joyous bark that Alexander answered.
“Hush,” Susannah whispered as Yorick added to the conversation. She had only one possible treat left, and pulled the remains of the sonnets from her reticule. She tore out the page bearing her father’s handwriting, and shoved the remains of the book at the dog, whose tail was beating a regular tattoo against the straw.
Caesar sniffed at the leather, which would have born Susannah’s scent, also the scent of the glue holding the book together. Enormous jaws opened on some of the finest prose ever penned in the English language, and commenced a happy chewing.
“Good boy, Caesar,” Susannah whispered, stroking the dog’s ear. “Enjoy them, for I certainly did.”
“What the hell!” Effington roared as another commotion ensued at the far end of the stable. Susannah rose enough to see that more men had rushed into the building, along with another enormous dog.
Georgette! Susannah had never been so happy to see a big, loud, barking dog.
As much scuffling and swearing went on, Susannah ducked back down, more relieved than she could say. Will would be upset with her, of course, but they’d found the dogs, and all would be well at last.
Relief washed through her, and she was planning on exactly what she’d say to explain her presence when a shot rang out.
“He has Georgette,” somebody yelled. “The bastard has his gun trained on Georgette.”
*
A gun. Why hadn’t Will assumed that a man who didn’t take the time to learn how to communicate with his animals would resort to violence if necessary to remain safe around them?
“Effington, really,” Will said as his brothers and Tresham arranged themselves at his sides. “Shooting a dog? Shoot me instead. Georgette has done nothing to hurt you, and if you destroy my property, I will bring suit.”
The pistol had two short barrels. Not very accurate over a distance, but up close, it could do lethal damage.
“Anybody can destroy a dangerous stray,” Effington said, chest heaving. “I’m a peer, I’ll be tried in the Lords if you can even get me charged, and you’re trespassing.”
Ash shot his cuffs. “You’re up to date on your rent at this fine establishment? The signed lease is available for inspection by the courts? When one has read law, such details plague one’s curiosity without mercy.”
The larger handler wrestled Alexander into a stall, net and all. The other one led the horse out to the yard and tied it there.
The animals, with the exception of Georgette, were safe.
“You do know,” Will said, “I could command Georgette to attack you, and she’d probably get in a couple of good bites even if you managed to hit her with your single remaining bullet?”
“Give the poor pup food poisoning,” Sycamore muttered. “She doesn’t deserve that.”
Will would die to know his dog had been shot, likely killed, for no reason. Effington would not pay for that crime, not if he was tried in the House of Lords.
Will would hold him accountable just the same.
“I think you should let him shoot the dog,” Casriel remarked. “I will enjoy retelling the tale of how a peer of the realm, a man who paid others to steal pets from aristocratic homes, fired at a helpless dog who had the great effrontery to merely pant at his feet. Such courage and integrity should be the subject of endless discussion even if the courts don’t intervene.”
“I never stole anybody’s dog,” Effington snarled. “I relieved the streets of Mayfair of a few dangerous strays.”