you like dogs?”
“Yes, certainly,” Folie said. “But I haven’t brought myself to have another since our last.”
“Brandy,” Melinda said stoutly, “was the best dog in the world.”
“Indeed?” Sir Howard grinned. “It can’t be so. My Maggie was the best by far. Why, she could bring home a stray lamb from the next county, save a drowning child, and then fetch a fellow’s slippers before she was dry! Tell me what your Brandy could do to match that!”
Folie and Melinda laughed and exchanged glances. “Oh, Brandy was not that sort of dog at all.” Folie gave a smile and a shrug. “He would merely put his paw upon one’s knee and look up as if to say, ‘I have something to tell you that will please you very much.” She traced the silver engraving on her spoon with a fingertip, smiling wistfully. “Everyone loved him.”
A vision visited Robert, one of the strong bright ones, of salt-and-pepper fur, brown eyes; a scruffy, panting, mischievous face. “Yes,” he said in a stifled voice. His guests all looked toward him. He hardly realized he had spoken until the expectant pause invited him to say more.
“I had a dog,” he said uneasily.
“Our house is always full of ‘em,” Sir Howard said. “I could not trust the man or woman who don’t like dogs.”
Folie was looking at Robert. He had a horrible moment in which he felt a sickness in his chest, a burn behind his eyes and nose. He stared straight ahead, breathing slowly.
Do not think, do not think of that; don’t think, don’t think, do not think of it.
“And have you filled your stable?” Sir Howard was saying. “There’s a pair of grays up for sale at Camden...known ‘em for three years, very nice-going creatures—you might like to think of them for a phaeton if you have the need.”
“Thank you.” With an act of ferocious will, Robert put his mind on Sir Howard’s words. “I’ll be sure to look into it.”
“Miss Hamilton, this reminds me that I am charged with discovering your age!” Sir Howard thumped his hand on the table. “I am not to go home without the information.”
“I am nineteen in June, sir,” Melinda said modestly.
“Very good, very good!” Sir Howard said, helping himself from the mutton. “My second girl is nineteen. I’ve just bought a little chestnut hack for her to take to town. All my girls ride like demons, I’ll say that for ‘em.” He looked to Robert. “Does Miss Hamilton have any sort of seat?”
Robert stared at him a moment, his mind so distracted that he felt as if he had to translate the question from a foreign language. “I don’t know,” he said, his mouth twisting in a wry smile. “I have not inquired.”
“Your daughters go to town this season, Sir Howard?” Melinda asked, leaning forward. The light of eagerness gave her beauty a striking glow. Robert glanced at Folie and saw her dismay.
“Ha! They do if their mother can recover the headache. I’ll be jiggered if I’ll take ‘em on my own, though she’s threatened to task me with it!”
“Perhaps we will see you there!” Melinda said.
“Do you go too, then?” Sir Howard looked toward Folie with an interest Robert found all too transparent.
Folie opened her mouth as if she would answer, fixed her gaze on the base of the silver candlestick before her, then gave Sir Howard a look that seemed to Robert full of entreaty.
“No,” Robert said coldly. “They do not go to town. Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Melinda will be living here.”
Melinda’s radiance froze. She turned a white face to Folie. “Mama...”
“We will discuss it later,” Folie said, lifting her hand as if to brush away an uninteresting subject.
Melinda sat up very straight in her chair. “We are not to go to town?”
“Later, my dear,” Folie said, but there was an uneasy note in her voice—Robert saw the girl fasten on it, saw how the blood mounted dangerously in her face.
“Tell me now,” Melinda said. As her back stiffened, her
“Yes, certainly,” Folie said. “But I haven’t brought myself to have another since our last.”
“Brandy,” Melinda said stoutly, “was the best dog in the world.”
“Indeed?” Sir Howard grinned. “It can’t be so. My Maggie was the best by far. Why, she could bring home a stray lamb from the next county, save a drowning child, and then fetch a fellow’s slippers before she was dry! Tell me what your Brandy could do to match that!”
Folie and Melinda laughed and exchanged glances. “Oh, Brandy was not that sort of dog at all.” Folie gave a smile and a shrug. “He would merely put his paw upon one’s knee and look up as if to say, ‘I have something to tell you that will please you very much.” She traced the silver engraving on her spoon with a fingertip, smiling wistfully. “Everyone loved him.”
A vision visited Robert, one of the strong bright ones, of salt-and-pepper fur, brown eyes; a scruffy, panting, mischievous face. “Yes,” he said in a stifled voice. His guests all looked toward him. He hardly realized he had spoken until the expectant pause invited him to say more.
“I had a dog,” he said uneasily.
“Our house is always full of ‘em,” Sir Howard said. “I could not trust the man or woman who don’t like dogs.”
Folie was looking at Robert. He had a horrible moment in which he felt a sickness in his chest, a burn behind his eyes and nose. He stared straight ahead, breathing slowly.
Do not think, do not think of that; don’t think, don’t think, do not think of it.
“And have you filled your stable?” Sir Howard was saying. “There’s a pair of grays up for sale at Camden...known ‘em for three years, very nice-going creatures—you might like to think of them for a phaeton if you have the need.”
“Thank you.” With an act of ferocious will, Robert put his mind on Sir Howard’s words. “I’ll be sure to look into it.”
“Miss Hamilton, this reminds me that I am charged with discovering your age!” Sir Howard thumped his hand on the table. “I am not to go home without the information.”
“I am nineteen in June, sir,” Melinda said modestly.
“Very good, very good!” Sir Howard said, helping himself from the mutton. “My second girl is nineteen. I’ve just bought a little chestnut hack for her to take to town. All my girls ride like demons, I’ll say that for ‘em.” He looked to Robert. “Does Miss Hamilton have any sort of seat?”
Robert stared at him a moment, his mind so distracted that he felt as if he had to translate the question from a foreign language. “I don’t know,” he said, his mouth twisting in a wry smile. “I have not inquired.”
“Your daughters go to town this season, Sir Howard?” Melinda asked, leaning forward. The light of eagerness gave her beauty a striking glow. Robert glanced at Folie and saw her dismay.
“Ha! They do if their mother can recover the headache. I’ll be jiggered if I’ll take ‘em on my own, though she’s threatened to task me with it!”
“Perhaps we will see you there!” Melinda said.
“Do you go too, then?” Sir Howard looked toward Folie with an interest Robert found all too transparent.
Folie opened her mouth as if she would answer, fixed her gaze on the base of the silver candlestick before her, then gave Sir Howard a look that seemed to Robert full of entreaty.
“No,” Robert said coldly. “They do not go to town. Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Melinda will be living here.”
Melinda’s radiance froze. She turned a white face to Folie. “Mama...”
“We will discuss it later,” Folie said, lifting her hand as if to brush away an uninteresting subject.
Melinda sat up very straight in her chair. “We are not to go to town?”
“Later, my dear,” Folie said, but there was an uneasy note in her voice—Robert saw the girl fasten on it, saw how the blood mounted dangerously in her face.
“Tell me now,” Melinda said. As her back stiffened, her
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