Chapter Six #3
Jealous, the spaniel decided to butt in to receive the worship that he felt was his due and Miss Kendall happily obliged.
Crouching down to his level, she dropped her satchel on the floor so that she could use her other hand to pet him.
It was clearly her writing hand if the ink stains on her fingers were any gauge.
“And who might you be, you handsome devil?”
“That is Captain Barkington.”
“Named literally, no doubt, because he barks?” She asked still smiling.
“Only commands. Hence, he is Captain Barkington. Because he is in charge. At least of me and Snifferson.” Because his cat had now deigned to join them, he gestured to her as she regarded the dogs with her usual feline disgust. “M’Lady Whiskers—my imperious Persian cat—is an ill-tempered law unto herself. ”
Miss Kendall shot a smile his way and, for once, it wasn’t forced. “The name suits her. She is a beautiful cat.”
“She is—but alas it is only skin deep. If I dropped dead on this floor this very instant, while my faithful hounds howled their devastation at my passing, M’Lady would immediately feed on my carcass.”
Miss Kendall laughed as she stood. Somehow, the shift in her position also shifted the atmosphere between them. It became a little awkward again—not hostile thankfully—but it was strange. Or, more to the point, strained.
“I … um…” She reached for a stack of invitations piled neatly on her desk.
“Sorted through everything.” The stack was divided into two piles tied with string.
One considerably bigger than the other. She handed him the thickest bunch first. “These are all evening invitations. If you let me know which you want to attend, I shall reply to the senders accordingly.” Her ink-stained fingers briefly brushed his as he took them and something very peculiar happened to the nerves beneath his skin.
“And these are the dubious bunch which I should like your opinion on.” Was it his imagination or did she take extra care not to accidentally touch him again as she passed over the second pile?
“I included one from Colonel Radcliffe inviting you and your sisters to the regimental ball next month, even though I doubt you’ll want to attend seeing as it is going to be filled with soldiers. ”
“I think that can safely be thrown on the fire, Miss Kendall.”
She smiled again. Shyly this time as she struggled to meet his gaze. “I shall be sure to send your polite regrets before I do that, your grace.”
“Thank you—but don’t go to any trouble.”
“It is no trouble, your grace, I can assure you. I love nothing more than to write.” She held up her hand and wiggled the fingers with the stains as proof.
“Even if it is only polite regrets.” Before he could ask what sort of things she loved to write, she smiled as she bobbed a curtsy. “Good night, your grace.”
As he had clearly run out of excuses to linger, he smiled back. “Good night, Miss Kendall.” He turned then and would have walked away but some devil inside him made him look back. “How is your mother?”
Her eyelids fluttered in confusion for a moment before she glanced down at her hands. “Well … thank you for asking.”
“Does she live in Bath?” It was none of his business, but he wanted to know.
“Just outside of it. In Newton St. Loe.”
An answer that made the roots of his hair twitch and his throat tight. “That is a good hour’s walk away.”
“But it is a pleasant walk.”
“Not at this time of night it isn’t, Miss Kendall, and I am not comfortable with you doing it again this late alone.” The dangers did not bear thinking about but he was already thinking them. “Next time you visit her I shall send my—”
She held up both hands. “I did not walk back, your grace.” Noticing her raised hands she dropped them and stared at her suddenly busy fingers. “A neighbor always drops me back into town, so you do not need to worry.”
“That is a relief.” And it was. Not that his twitching scalp and clammy palms had realized that yet.
“That road is a well-known haunt for footpads in the dark—especially during the season.” Just the thought of her colliding with anyone like that after sunset was the stuff of Leo’s nightmares, but he breathed through it to keep himself reasonable.
“A pair were brought before me only today.”
Her brows furrowed again. “Why would footpads be brought before you?”
“Because, for my sins, I am one of the local magistrates.”
Her lovely eyes widened to the size of saucers. “I had no clue that you were a magistrate.”
“As the only local duke, I was press-ganged into it. It is a thankless task, but my father instilled in me an annoying sense of responsibility, and somebody has to uphold the law.”
“And who better than a duke to navigate the fine line between what is right and what is wrong?” She said that with a half smile but such cold eyes that it sounded almost like a chastisement.
“After all, if our present legal system was good enough for the Norman conquerors, it is surely still good enough for us today.”
“Well I wouldn’t…” He did not get to finish that sentence because Miss Kendall had grabbed her satchel and was bobbing another curtsy.
“Good night, your grace.”
She barely gave him the time to bid her a good one back before she disappeared out of the door.