A Countess by Christmas by Annie Burrows

Thrapston.
    ‘Esau!’ the Earl’s voice boomed across the lawn. ‘Devil take it, what do you think you are doing?’
    The dog looked in the direction of his master’s voice, drool dripping slowly from his lolling tongue.
    The Earl forced his way through the hedge just where the dog had broken through. He took the situation in and snapped his fingers. ‘Heel, I say! Heel! ’
    To Helen, it looked as though the dog sighed and shrugged its shoulders before obediently dropping to the ground and loping across to his master’s side, where he flopped to the ground and rolled on his back, paws waving in the air. ‘I am not going to rub your stomach, you hell hound!’ the Earl snapped.
    The dog merely looked up at him adoringly and wriggled encouragingly.
    Helen, already struck by the humour of the situation, could barely stifle her giggles. She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief, covering her grin under the pretext of vigorously wiping away the slobber that coated her cheeks.
    ‘Really, Bridgemere,’ said Lady Thrapston, emerging from behind Helen. ‘Have you no control over that animal?’
    ‘Better than you have over your own manners,’ he replied coldly. ‘You have a very carrying sort of voice, My Lady, and I beg leave to inform you that you have no business berating Miss Forrest upon her future plans. Plans which, in any case, I regard as admirable!’
    ‘Excuse me…’ Helen put in, suddenly cross all over again. Though it was quite pleasant to hear the Earl say that he found her admirable, she was not in the least bit pleased that he was saying what she would have said herself, had the dog not put a halt to proceedings.
    The Earl made an impatient gesture with his hand.
    ‘Not now, Miss Forrest!’ he snapped, his eyes fixed upon his sister. ‘I find it remarkably refreshing to hear that there is at least one woman in England who does not have marriage to a wealthy man as her goal after having been launched expensively into society!’
    At that point Helen’s temper came to the boil. It was beyond rude for these two aristocrats to stand there arguing about her as though she was not present. Besides, it was perfectly clear they were not arguing about her at all, but about what Lady Thrapston expected Bridgemere to do for her daughters.
    Who were both close to tears.
    ‘Don’t you assume you know anything about me or my goals, My Lord!’ she said. ‘It is only women with a dowry and a family behind them who have the luxury of taking the route of which you speak! And, since I have not a penny to my name, I should have thought it would be obvious even to you that route is not open to me!’
    ‘You see?’ said the Countess. ‘Even this creaturewould rather marry than work for a living! You have heard it from her own lips!’
    The Earl swung to her, his eyes blazing, as though he felt she had betrayed him.
    Not a penny to her name? What nonsense was this? From the preliminary enquiries he had made, it was generally known that she stood to inherit a substantial fortune from Isabella Forrest. Who was already keeping her in some style.
    ‘N…no, I did not mean that, exactly…’ Helen stammered, her eyes flicking from brother to sister and back again.
    ‘Come, girls,’ said Lady Thrapston imperiously. ‘We shall return to the house, since His Lordship chooses to exercise that beast where his guests should feel safe to walk!’
    Her nose in the air, she swished across the lawns, her two subdued daughters scurrying along behind her.
    The dog rolled itself upright and woofed once after them, as though in triumph.
    Helen stood frozen to the spot by Lord Bridgemere’s glacial stare. He waited until the other ladies were out of earshot before speaking again, while Helen braced herself for yet another battle royal.
    ‘I trust you are unharmed?’ he said, completely taking the wind out of her sails. ‘For some reason,’ he drawled, as though there was no accounting for the working of a dog’s mind,