She supposed Rogue might fit him best, but it still was not quite right.
Hmm ... She would have to think upon it further.
As her parents had hoped, other distractions—namely, her stories and scribbling—were set aside as her mind became consumed with naming the puppy and training it to not leave puddles or other unpleasant things in her bedchamber. On one occasion, he even had the temerity to wet her mother’s Persian rug. Thankfully, Mrs. Gifford had not been at home to see it happen and failed to notice the spot that one of the maids had scrubbed and scrubbed.
Prudence couldn’t help but smile every time she walked into that room and saw the rug. She rather liked having “a purpose” as her father had called it. The puppy had most definitely given her life an added something.
But her scribblings would not be placed on the shelf forever. They were too much a part of her, and in time, she began to devise a plan to weave a sweet puppy into her story. Perhaps her heroine could find a haggard little creature at the side of the road and save him from starvation.
Yes, that could work quite nicely. She smiled, feeling some of her previous excitement about her most recent story return.
“See what wonderful inspiration you are?” she said softly to the puppy, lifting it up to nuzzle its nose with her own. Then she tucked the wriggling ball of cream fur to her chest and went in search of her mother and sister, finding them both ensconced in the parlor, working on their embroidery.
“Good morning, Mama. Sophia,” she said as she sat on a chair across from them. “How was the soirée last evening?”
“Must you ask? I’d prefer not to discuss it.” Sophia set her embroidery aside and moved to steal the puppy from Prudence’s lap. Sophia adored animals of all kinds and could never resist the newest addition to Talford Hall.
“How’s my dear little creature this morning, hmm… ?” she asked. “Still no name?”
“Afraid not,” said Prudence dismissively, more concerned about her sister’s obvious frustration with the dinner party. “Was it not enjoyable? I have heard much about the extravagance of the Beckham family’s annual soirée. According to Mrs. Mottle, a few years ago they released a trained pigeon in the house to swoop around the room during the final course.”
“Yes,” said their mother with a smile. “I remember that evening well. The pigeon swooped once or twice, frightened many of the guests, then landed directly on top of Lady Spencer’s coiffure. She made quite a fuss, and the Beckhams have not allowed a pigeon in their home since. But even without a bird, the evening was quite elaborate. They hired a French chef and served the most delicious food I have ever tasted.”
“It was indeed elaborate,” agreed Sophia, not looking nearly as pleased. “It was me who was lacking. I wish you could have come with us, Pru. Your presence would have helped immensely.”
“Nonsense,” insisted their mother. “Sophia, honestly, I do not know how you come by such notions. Your sister’s presence is not required for you to be at ease in the company of others.”
“I was certainly not at ease last night,” said Sophia.
“What happened?” asked Prudence. “Was Lord Knave unkind to you? You seemed in complete harmony with him when I came upon the two of you out driving the other day.”
“Yes, but only for the duration of our visit with you,” said Sophia. “The moment you walked away, everything became uncomfortable again. I never know what to say to that man.”
Prudence pressed her lips together, wishing she knew how to help her sister. She had never been inflicted with the same problem and could not comprehend what caused Sophia to grow so timid at times. For Prudence, there always seemed to be endless topics to discuss and not enough time to discuss them—except when in the company of Mr. Winston.
“What are his interests?” she finally asked her sister.
Sophia’s brow puckered. “I cannot say for certain, although I do remember him mentioning that he used to enjoy a good hunt.”
“Used to?” asked Prudence. “He doesn’t any longer?”
Sophia shrugged. “He only mentioned it once, and it seemed forward of me to inquire further.”
Forward? Prudence thought, confused. How could such a question ever be considered forward? Interested, perhaps. Curious, obviously. But not forward.
Their mother must have thought the same, for she said, “That is a perfectly acceptable question to ask, dearest. If he seems hesitant in his answer, then by all means, cease questioning him. But how else are you to get to know him if you do not ask about his pursuits or opinions on various matters?”
For once, Prudence and her mother were in complete agreement. It felt good.
Sophia combed her fingers through the puppy’s thick fur. “I suppose you are right, but… I know nothing about hunting, and the question could easily lead to a discussion about a sport I am not prepared to discuss.”
Prudence might have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t grown accustomed to Sophia’s lack of confidence in herself. “Simply tell him you know very little about hunting and ask him to enlighten you. I think most men would enjoy a captive audience.”
“Indeed,” agreed their mother.
Sophia sighed. “You always make it sound so easy, Pru, but it is never easy for me, especially when it comes to Lord Knave. He intimidates me.”
“Not to worry, my dear,” comforted their mother. “That discomfort will pass in time. It always does.”
“Perhaps a brisk walk will cheer you up,” suggested Prudence. She rose and collected her puppy from her sister’s arms and kissed its nose. “This little troublemaker and I are planning to take a walk about the grounds, assuming we have Mother’s permission.” She turned the puppy towards her mother and wiggled her brows expectantly. Ever since her unhappy encounter with her parents, Prudence made an increased effort to seek her mother’s permission before venturing out of doors.
As hoped for, her mother smiled a little and nodded. “Very well. You may go.”
“Would you care to join us, Sophia?” Prudence asked.
Her sister appeared to consider the offer before shaking her head. “I have been attempting to finish this pillow for weeks and am determined to finish it today. I’m afraid you will have to go without me.”
Prudence took a step towards the door. “If you change your mind or wish to take a break, you can find us in the wilderness area just past the gardens. It appears a bit breezy, but otherwise perfectly lovely.”
“I’m sure it is. If I finish in a timely manner, I will be glad to join you.” Sophia turned her attention back to her embroidery and jabbed her needle through the cloth.
Amused by her sister’s determination, Prudence quit the room and waited in the great hall for a servant to fetch a leash for the puppy. Once secured, she left the confines of the house behind and allowed her puppy to hop down the stairs and roam as far as its restraint would allow. The breeze tickled her neck, whipped at the loose strands of her hair, and lifted her spirits.
There was something wonderful about being out and about. Whether it was the freedom she always felt or the aroma of flowers and grass and earth, Prudence couldn’t say. She only knew the feeling was a balm to her soul, and she never tired of it.
Earlier rains had dampened the ground, but she didn’t mind. She had worn her sturdy pair of boots that navigated the soft and muddied earth with ease.
“What about Snowball for a name?” she asked her puppy. “I do so love the whiteness and irregularity of snow. And you do appear a bit like a furry snowball, especially when you curl up on my lap. But then, Father did say your fur would likely darken into a tan as you age, so perhaps not. That, and you aren’t the least bit cold-hearted, are you?”
Prudence sighed. “I’m beginning to think I should not be so concerned about finding a fitting name for you and simply call you something that doesn’t hold any specific meaning, like Sam or Charlie or… Winchester.” She watched as her puppy strained against its leash, trying with all its migh
t to run ahead. “I suppose we could call you Win for short, since it appears as though you do like to win. Oh, there I go again. I suppose I could never call you just any name, but Winchester is not it either, I’m afraid. It is far too staid, and you are too much of an imp. Hmm… Imp. Could that work? It could be short for Imperial, I suppose. Despite your small size, you seem to have an air of importance about you.”
The puppy sniffed at the ground near a dogwood bush, paying his mistress no mind.
“I really must come up with a name soon, so I can call you to attention. It isn’t the acceptable thing for you to ignore your mistress, you know.”
They passed through the formal gardens and into the denser area of their property, where pines, dogwoods, and oak trees climbed high into the heavens. Although the canopy of leaves and branches made the air chillier, there was something magical about being in this forest. It felt as though creatures, the likes of which no human eyes had ever beheld, were ducking just out of sight and the trees could come alive at any moment.
Prudence briefly contemplated writing about such creatures but quickly dismissed it. She could not allow her mind to think on another tale just yet. She must make some progress on her current story first—the one that had occupied her mind with such intensity that glorious afternoon when time passed in a flurry.
She knew what she wanted to happen, what direction it would take, and how it would end. She knew she wanted to portray a deep and abiding love, the devastation involved in losing that love, and the process of healing and learning to love again. Several scenes had already been written in her mind, a few tender, a few humorous, and a few awkward. But every time she pulled out a fresh sheet of foolscap, the beginning eluded her and she had yet to write a single word. She needed to portray the heroine as deeply in love, but what did that emotion feel like? What sensations might she experience? How did it feel to embrace or kiss a man?
Prudence could imagine a great many things, but this, she did not know.
What she needed was another novel to research. She had read many to date, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember how the author had described a kiss or a touch. If only her mother would relent and allow her to read at least a little.
Prudence drew in a deep breath of fresh air and continued following her puppy through the woods. The breeze seemed to quicken, quaking the leaves overhead and stirring the bushes. She wrapped her arms to her chest, wishing she had thought to bring her pelisse, or at the very least, her shawl.
The bark of a dog echoed up ahead, and her puppy immediately lunged in the direction of the sound as though he intended to act as her protector. He even attempted his own little bark—well, more of a yip, really. It was a darling noise that sounded anything but threatening.
“I think you could use a name that will help you sound more intimidating. What would you think of, say… Tempest? No, that won’t do either. Goodness, what a quandary.”
The puppy stretched the leash to its limits, attempting with all its might to make Prudence quicken her pace. She opened her mouth to tease him when a large, brown dog burst through some shrubbery at the end of a small clearing, startling Prudence into nearly dropping the leash. Her puppy began to bark ferociously—or at least as ferociously as a puppy could—and the enormous, brown mastiff crouched, growling menacingly.
Prudence gulped as she dragged her puppy back to her while keeping a wary eye on the beast. With slow movements, she scooped up her dog and murmured, “Calm yourself.” Her heart skidded to a halt, and every instinct inside her screamed at her to run, but she worried that if she did, the mastiff would pursue them. Even in her sturdy boots, Prudence could never outrun such a beast.
She swallowed, clamping her hand over the puppy’s jaw to keep it quiet. He began whining and attempting to shake her hand free, showing that he did not appreciate such treatment. With an eye on the mastiff, she lowered her voice and said, “Hush,” before releasing his mouth. Much to her surprise, the little dog ceased barking.
Prudence turned her attention to the mastiff, who looked to be the size of a small horse rather than a dog. A collar surrounded its neck, which gave her some measure of hope that he had been trained not to attack innocent women and puppies. Maybe if she did not move, it would keep its distance.
“Who are you?” she said as calmly as she could muster. “I don’t recall seeing the likes of you on our property before.”
His growling subsided, but he continued to crouch as though waiting for the right opportunity to pounce. Prudence took a careful step back, but when he began to growl again, she paused. “Who is your master, and where is he?”
A whistle sounded, followed by a masculine shout. “Brute! Where the devil have you gone? Come here at once, you insubordinate beast.”
Your master has named you well, thought Prudence before raising her voice. “If you are looking for your dog, sir, he is here, holding us captive.”
Rapid footsteps approached, and Lord Knave jogged into the clearing, disheveled and out of breath. He peered first at Prudence and then at his dog, and his eyes narrowed into a glare. “What are you about, Brute, frightening young women and puppies? Have you no shame?” He jabbed his finger at the ground near his mud-splattered boots. “Come here at once.”
Prudence’s puppy must have wanted to scold the larger dog as well because he began his incessant barking once more. Thus distracted, Brute ignored Lord Knave and began growling again, baring its sinister teeth. Prudence directed a sharp look at Lord Knave as she clutched her puppy closer to her chest and clamped its jaw shut again. Moments later, the mastiff ceased growling as well.
“Does he yip like that all the time?” Lord Knave asked, eying the puppy.
“Only when excessively large and ominous creatures trespass on our property.”
“Us? Trespassing?” He snickered. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Miss Prudence. It is you who are trespassing on our property.”
“I think not, my lord,” she said. “I have walked these woods ever since I was a child, usually in the company of my nursemaid, governess, or sister, and I have never been told that we had ventured beyond our borders. If you marry my sister, it will become yours at some point, but for now it is still ours.”
“And that is your proof?” he asked. “That no one has told you otherwise?”
“What other proof do I need, sir? My nursemaid was a stickler and wouldn’t have countenanced behavior as uncouth as trespassing.”
“Apparently she was ignorant about our property lines as well. I, on the other hand, am not. In fact, I will confidently wager Radbourne Abbey that the very ground you are standing on belongs to my father, the Earl of Bradden. Our land steward showed me the map and walked the perimeter with me only last year. I was hosting a large hunting party and did not want to be accused of trespassing on your family’s land.”
His argument did seem to carry a bit more weight, Prudence had to concede. She pressed her lips together and looked around her at the familiar trees and shrubs, the fallen log that had sat in that same spot for years. How many times had she come this way? How many times had she unintentionally trespassed?
“Where, precisely, does your land steward say the property line is?”
He gestured behind her. “About twenty yards yonder, on the other side of that small spring.”
She glanced behind her, not quite ready to believe him. “Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
“Hmm…” she said, more to herself than to him. “Forgive me for not trusting your word, my lord, but I shall have to consult with our land steward before I am completely convinced. In the meantime, why not think of this area as neutral?”
He smiled at her suggestion and studied her a moment before nodding. “For now, I suppose that will do. But once you realize I am right, I will require an apology from both you and your puppy. It is not the thing to yip at one’s neighbors while on their property.”
Her puppy yipped a few times in response, and Pru
dence grinned at Lord Knave. “Consider that his apology in advance.”
“That sounded more like a lecture than an apology.”
“Yes, well, I am still in the process of training him,” she said. “I would ask for your advice on how to better go about it, but your dog doesn’t seem to mind you at all, so you are obviously not an authority on the subject. Can’t you make him stop looking at us in that menacing way? It is most unsettling.”
“He is not my dog,” said Lord Knave even as he glared at the mastiff once more. “Brute, desist and come here at once.”
The dog slowly rose to its full, intimidating height, but defied Lord Knave by remaining where he stood. Prudence decided that he wasn’t as menacing as he’d first appeared. In fact, she rather liked his obstinate nature. Like her own little pup, Brute had pluck.
Lord Knave must’ve lost patience with the dog, for he walked over and took hold of its collar. Within minutes, he fastened a leash to it which he tied to a nearby tree. “This is the thanks I am to receive for allowing you to run free?” he muttered as he secured the knot. “Perhaps this will teach you to behave with more decorum in the future.”
Prudence adjusted her puppy in her arms, grateful for its small size, and studied the larger animal. “If not yours, whose dog is he? Your father’s? Mother’s? Valet’s, perhaps?”
Lord Knave quirked an eyebrow. “Why on earth would I be walking my valet’s dog?”
“I haven’t the faintest notion.”
He approached her slowly, clasping his hands behind his back as he gave her a shrewd look. “If you must know, he belongs to ‘my lady.’”
Prudence felt a blush heat her cheeks at the reminder of how she had referred to Mrs. Harper the other morning from the tree. Here comes your lady now, she had said with all the confidence and condescension in the world. How supercilious she must have sounded.
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