Chapter 16 #2
“A secret will, I surmise,” Charlotte murmured. “Or a cache of jewels. Or some other variety of buried treasure.”
What else could inspire a gentleman to tear apart both his garden and his house in such a careless manner?
Charlotte took a final moment to smooth her hair and dress before rapping at the kitchen door.
The clattering in the house continued unceasing.
Charlotte knocked again, harder this time, and with increasing insistence, until the noise abruptly stopped.
A muffled oath drifted from somewhere within. Another muffled voice replied to it. There seemed to be some debate.
She stood on her tiptoes to peer in the kitchen window. Through the greasy, soot-stained glass she caught a glimpse of a shadow passing by. An exceedingly large shadow.
Her heart thumped hard. It was Magnus.
He flung open the door halfway with a furious snarl. “What the devil do you mean by—” He broke off at the sight of her, visibly taken aback. “Charlotte.”
“Good morning,” she said brightly.
Magnus’s expression darkened, transforming into a scowl before her eyes.
He was dressed in a plain black shirt and trousers, his collar open at the neck and his sleeves rolled up.
He didn’t appear to have shaved this morning.
Nor did he seem to have done much to put his hair in order.
A fine scattering of wood shavings and splinters covered his chest and shoulders. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
Not how are you. Not how delightful to see you. Not come in.
It was no less than Charlotte had expected.
She pasted on a smile. “I’ve come to look in on my dog.”
“Your dog,” Magnus repeated flatly.
“Chance,” she reminded him. “You haven’t forgotten your promise?”
He cast a narrow glance at the empty kitchen yard behind her. “You came alone?”
“I don’t see why I shouldn’t have.” Charlotte didn’t blush at the lie. It was far kinder than the truth. To admit to him that no one else would have dared accompany her even if she’d asked them to.
“You can’t be well, then,” Magnus replied uncharitably. “Only someone with an addled brain would claim—”
“My brain isn’t addled,” she interrupted. “Dr. Calthrop has given me a clean bill of health. It was he who said I might walk as far as the village today.”
“You took a wrong turn.”
“Don’t be stupid.” She craned her head to look behind him. “About my dog…?”
“Your dog is an unmitigated pain in the arse,” Magnus informed her.
Charlotte choked on an offended laugh. “You can’t be saying that to me!”
Magnus was unrepentant. “I curse the day you crossed paths with him.”
“I daresay you do, given what’s transpired.” She searched his eyes, still holding on to hope. “But…you have been taking care of him, haven’t you?”
“Every bloody hour of every bloody day.” Magnus opened the door the rest of the way, revealing a startling picture.
Chance was beside him. Not snarling and snapping. Not hiding. But sitting calmly at the end of a thin rope lead that Magnus held loosely in his hand. He stared up at Magnus with an unmistakable expression of canine devotion.
Charlotte’s breath caught in her chest at the sight of it. Her heart caught too.
She was forcibly reminded of some of the rescued dogs from her childhood. The very worst ones, frightened and abused, who had seemed far beyond hope of rehabilitation. Yet, her mother had always managed to coax them into the family. To convince them they were safe. To persuade them to trust.
It was a sort of magic. The kind that had been passed down from Charlotte’s maternal grandmother. A contagious sort, Charlotte believed. For even her father had, on occasion, worked its wonders with a helpless animal case (though he was more partial to cats than dogs).
Charlotte hadn’t thought to find that magic manifesting in someone outside of her family. Certainly not here in this bleak place, with this perpetually scowling, bad-tempered man.
“And I haven’t hurt him if that’s what you’re thinking,” Magnus said crossly. “I’ve merely civilized him.”
“Heavens,” Charlotte said. “He’s utterly transformed.” She looked up at Magnus in wonder. “How on earth did you do it?”
“I put this lead on him four days ago. He’s been on it ever since.”
“You kept him with you?”
“Morning, noon, and night.”
Charlotte couldn’t conceal her amazement.
It was the same tactic her maternal grandmother had once used with a half-wild hound she’d found near their Somerset estate.
The lead she’d attached to him had forged a bond of companionship, resisted at first, but ultimately instilling confidence in the dog and helping him to transition into his new role as a pet.
“Even when you retired?” Charlotte asked. ”But…where did he sleep?”
“On my blasted bed,” Magnus snapped. “Any more questions?”
Charlotte’s heart swelled so she feared it might burst out of her chest. “So many,” she said.
“Why am I not surprised?” Magnus walked away, with Chance in tow. Though he didn’t ask Charlotte in, he left the kitchen door open behind him.
Charlotte hesitated a fraction of a second before taking the invitation as implied. Giving one last self-conscious brush over her clothes, she came into the kitchen, closing the door after her.
Chance trotted ahead, keeping abreast with Magnus. He was no longer limping.
She frowned. “The injury to his leg—?”
“A thorn in his paw,” Magnus said. “His limp has gone since I removed it.”
It took an effort for Charlotte not to gawp. It was astonishing enough to witness Magnus leading the newly compliant canine about. But to imagine him treating the creature’s ailments like some ministering angel? That was another thing entirely.
“How fortunate you are, Chance, to have been treated with such kindness,” she said to the little dog.
Magnus uttered a derisive snort.
Charlotte wasn’t deterred by it. On the contrary. If there was ever a sign of a man’s true nature, it was evident in the way he treated animals. Seeing Magnus and Chance together both warmed her soul and made her pulse flutter in a completely new way.
This was different than being drawn to a man for his mystery or for his handsomeness. This was being drawn to him because of his character. A far more powerful lure, and one Charlotte was completely unaccustomed to.
She set her basket down on the plank table. “And how fortunate I am,” she added. “Not many gentlemen would have taken the trouble.”
“You gave me little choice,” Magnus said.
“One always has a choice.” Opening her basket, Charlotte began to unpack the items she’d brought.
Magnus’s brows sank with suspicion. “What’s that?”
“Provisions,” she said, placing each of them on the table. “Bread, butter, blackberry jam. A bottle of milk. Sugar.” She glanced at him. “You do still have tea leaves?”
He ran a hand over the side of his neck with an eloquent grimace. “They’re on their third washing.”
She withdrew a canister. “Well, then. It’s a good thing I brought some.”
“Restocking our pantry, are you?”
“I’m staying for tea,” she said. “Unless…” A flicker of uncertainty made her falter. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t.”
Magnus was silent a moment. At length, he sighed. “Why not? I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”
Charlotte smiled, unable to hide her relief. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
“I’ll do it.” Magnus’s deep voice brooked no argument. “You sit.” He pulled out a chair for her with one hand. His countenance was severe, rather like a reluctant guardian commanding his recalcitrant ward.
It wasn’t exactly the way Charlotte wished to be looked at by the man who was presently making her pulse behave so erratically. Nevertheless…
She didn’t have the heart to quarrel with him.
“I really am quite well,” she said as she took a seat. “You needn’t wait on me.”
“I’m not.” He handed her Chance’s lead. Crossing to the cast iron stove, he picked up the kettle. “You can slice the bread.”