Chapter 11
NATALIE WISHED SHE’D NEVER…
Natalie wished she’d never laid eyes upon Garrett Castleton!
How could a person, a man, make a girl feel beautiful and lovable one minute and then like a pitiful piece of unwanted baggage the next?
And then why would that girl allow herself to care what that man thought of her after he behaved so despicably?
Natalie pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at a few stupid tears she’d lost control of.
And then she stopped. In between her sniffles, she thought she’d heard a small cry from within the trees. After a moment, the sound came again.
Not considering her safety, she slowly, so as not to make a great deal of noise, stepped into the trees before pausing to follow the sound again.
Sure enough, the small cry grew louder. She stepped cautiously on the leaves and pine needles until she heard the sound right in front of her.
And then, pulling a branch aside, she revealed a tiny creature huddled in the shimmering moonlight.
Was it a bear? No! A puppy! He must be no more than a few months old and lay curled around himself crying pitifully.
Natalie knelt and reached out her hand. A tiny tongue licked at her fingers.
“Oh, you poor baby, where’s your momma?” She reached her other hand around to grasp the small body of the dog and pull him into her chest. He sported floppy ears, a longer than normal body, and very short legs.
He must have been a runt that had somehow managed to escape an ignoble fate.
And he was near starved! Forgetting Hawthorne’s insults for the moment, Natalie carried him back to the house and entered through the kitchen door.
In the light, she could see the black puppy had tan spots on his spindly neck and paws.
Poor baby. His tiny black eyes gazed up at her adoringly.
How could anybody abandon such a precious little life?
Ah, well, it was their loss. She’d always wanted a dog. She was going to keep him, by Jove.
When she entered the busy kitchen, filled with warmth from the ovens and mingled aromas of both savories and sweets, his ears perked up at attention.
Natalie ignored the curious and disapproving glances she received from some of the kitchen help and peeked into a pantry in search of a bowl for some milk.
Seeing Cook approach with a deep scowl on her face, Natalie cuddled the pup close to her.
“Cook, what do we have that I can feed this poor pup? Some horrible person abandoned him in the trees near the house. Can you help me find some cream or milk and a small bowl? The poor dear is near starving.” Seeing disapproval on Cook’s face, Natalie turned the pitiful pup toward her.
“This is Cook, little one. She will help me see you to rights. Cook’s a fine one. Cookie just loves animals.”
Cook raised her eyebrows doubtfully.
Natalie continued, “Cook, this precious baby is my pet, his name is…well, I haven’t thought of one yet.” She lifted the little dog to look into his eyes once again. “What shall I name you? I thought you were a baby bear at first. Should I call you Baby Bear?”
The puppy gave one short high-pitched bark. Natalie took this for approval. “Baby Bear it is, then.”
Shaking her head in resignation, Cook disappeared into the pantry. Natalie cuddled and cooed at Baby Bear until the large woman returned a moment later with a bowl filled with cream.
Taking the bowl, Natalie thanked her and slipped out of the kitchen and up the servants’ stairs, making it to her room unobserved by any of her mother’s guests.
Once there, she placed the pup on the floor with the bowl, and Baby Bear lapped at the cream heartily.
Relief settled on her. This surely was a sign of good health.
Kneeling on the floor, Natalie leaned back and rested her weight upon her feet as she watched Baby Bear enjoy his meal.
With the dog occupied, she contemplated her encounter with Lord Hawthorne more rationally. He was a known rake. Practically an outcast. But such a handsome one.
And an exasperating one! She hated that he treated her like a woman one moment and a child the next. She didn’t expect him to fall in love with her, did she?
Did she?
The question gave her pause as she considered the pink flounces on her window coverings and the lacy pink pillows on her bed. Dolls she’d collected as a young girl lined the top of her dresser. This was the room of her girlhood. Suddenly, it felt wrong.
Did Garrett Castleton consider her too young for him, too juvenile? Could that be why he resisted her?
She’d always been the baby of the family, the only girl amongst four strapping boys—now men. Everybody in her family forever protected her. While engaged to Cortland, she’d been treated, again, like a youthful sister by her betrothed. It had aggravated her to no end.
Could that be her problem? Was she a woman now, living the life of a young girl? Hearing sounds from the door across the hallway, Natalie hopped up and peeked into the corridor. Marcus was exiting Lord Hawthorne’s room.
“I need your assistance.” She gestured for him to enter her room.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Nat?” Marcus treated her like an older sister much of the time.
Despite their different stations, being close in age, they’d often played together as children.
Marcus shoved his hands into his pockets and slipped into Natalie’s room.
Upon catching sight of the puppy, he gawked at her with raised eyebrows.
“I don’t know what I need to do for this little mite, but I intend to keep him,” Natalie explained before he could say a single word. “Do you know anything about caring for a puppy?”
Marcus stared at Baby Bear and then, exhaling dramatically, ran a hand through his lanky black hair.
“Well, Lady Nat, this puppy is going to need to…ah…relieve himself about every two or three hours.” He took a few steps around Baby Bear and considered the situation.
“Pups don’t like to wet where they sleep, so a box and a blanket would be a good start.
But you will need to watch him. If he begins sniffing around, you must take him outside right away so he can do his business.
” Squatting down, he gave the pup a scratch on the top of his little head.
“Every time he piddles outside, give him a treat. Are you sure you want to do this? If you don’t watch the pup carefully, he’ll be going all over your room and making a dreadful stench.
Why don’t you just take him out to the stable and let the grooms care for him? ”
Natalie was already shaking her head. “I want to care for him myself. Would you find me a box, Marcus? And a blanket? I will do as you say and watch Baby Bear carefully.” At his doubtful look, she shook her finger at him.
“Just you wait and see, Marcus Whipple! I’ll have this dog trained in no time. ”
Laughing, Marcus backed away. “Very well then, I’ll get you a box and a blanket.
” He stepped out of the door. Before departing, though, he poked his head back in.
“I’ll bring you some treats for the little pup, too.
It’ll be worth it just to see you play nursemaid to a dog.
” Laughing again, he dashed off to retrieve the required items.
Baby Bear carefully finished the last drops of cream, his adorable pink tongue making sure to find every last drop. When he found no more, he looked up at her soulfully. Baby Bear needed her!
She picked him up and cuddled him close. She could do this. She could!
More than a little remorseful over his treatment of Lady Natalie, Garrett remained out of doors, lying in the grass, late into the night. At least she’d abandoned him in a good place for thoughtful reflection.
He’d decided the direction his life would take years ago—accepted himself as a fringe member of the English aristocracy.
He’d entered trade initially to defy his father’s archaic beliefs.
And now, irony of ironies, the funds he’d amassed would rebuild his father’s legacy.
No, his grandfather’s legacy and that of all those before him.
His father had squandered the benefits and privilege of holding an earldom.
The legacy Garrett embraced was from those who had lived before his sire.
In his youth, Garrett had resisted his claim to nobility. Associating its members with his father, he’d beaten them at cards and leered at their daughters.
And now, with his father out of the picture and the approval of the Spencers, some of these aristocrats were ironically befriending him. And as confounding as it might seem, he now found himself presented with one of their daughters. The daughter of a man he’d long respected.
The Earl of Ravensdale was everything Garrett’s father had not been—hardworking, shrewd in business, and loyal to his wife and family.
Lady Natalie had been raised well. She did not exhibit all the spoiled tendencies so many of the aristocracy’s marriageable misses did, contrary to his initial impression.
Not that she wasn’t just a tad spoiled, and rebellious, and delightfully spontaneous. She was all of these things and more. Against his own inclination, Garrett felt drawn to her.
But did he need a wife? For that was where all this dallying would eventually land him. Lady Natalie Spencer would not be ruined and allowed to languish in the country as a spinster. She had a brawny father and four brothers who would assure her reputation.
Frustrated by his thoughts, Garrett brushed the grass from his jacket, sauntered down the hill, and slipped back into the manor.
All the other guests had apparently retired for the evening and the only sounds to be heard were of servants clearing up before taking themselves off to bed. He hoped Marcus hadn’t waited for him.
Upon reaching the corridor outside his room, Garrett stopped short. A high keening sound, muffled but unmistakable, drifted into the hallway from Natalie’s room. He paused a moment and took a deep breath. He heard crying…
Surely she was not still upset? Could his words have hurt her to this extent?
Rubbing a hand over his face, Garrett exhaled slowly.
Of course. She’d experienced a devastating rejection earlier this summer, and his toying with her merely piled on to her insecurities.
He thought to knock on her door to offer comfort, but reason told him this would surely backfire upon both of them.
The weeping, however, went on and on. It was mournful and oh, so pitiful.
Dragging himself from her door, Garrett entered his own chamber instead. He could not go into her room, could he? Surely her maid attended her?
Marcus had laid out his dressing gown and night shirt but thankfully was not awake to wait upon him in person.
Relieved, Garrett tended to his own ablutions and climbed into bed.
The barely audible crying tormented him mercilessly.
He knew, though, that if he were to go to her room, were to attempt to comfort her and be discovered, there would likely be a great deal more cause to weep. And both of them would be crying then.
He wished the effects of the whiskey he’d consumed earlier hadn’t worn off. That would have at least allowed a semblance of sleep. Diving under the pillow in an attempt to block the pitiful sounds from next door, Garrett didn’t drift off until just before dawn.