tangled mass. A great shaggy head filled with immense teeth rose up, yawned, and then the whole settled back down into an amorphous muddy-coloured mass.
‘It’s a dog!’ she said, then blushed at the absurdity of stating the obvious. Of course it was a dog. Not a heap of sacking. Why on earth would an earl have piles of mildewed sacks about the place?
‘Yes,’ he said icily. ‘Do you wish me to have him removed? Does he offend you?’
‘What?’ She frowned. ‘No, of course he does not offend me. He just took me by surprise, that is all.’
His mouth twisted into the same expression of distaste he had turned on the woman who had presided at the foot of his dinner table the night before.
‘You think it beneath my dignity to own an animal of such uncertain pedigree? Is that it?’
It was a complaint he was always hearing from Lady Thrapston. Why could he not live up to his consequence? Why would he not go to town and ride around Hyde Park in a smart equipage? So that she could bask in his reflected glory, naturally. As though she did not occupy an elevated enough sphere in her own right!
And if he must have a dog, why could it not be an animal of prime pedigree, a gundog, the kind every other man would have.
As if he cared about appearances these days.
Helen was determined to hold her temper in check, inspite of his provoking manner. She managed to return a placating smile to his frown, and say, ‘No, not at all.’
The smile and the soft answer did not placate him. Their only effect was to make his scowl deeper.
‘I preferred you when you thought I was one of my servants,’ he muttered.
At least when she’d thought he was a footman he’d had the truth from her. Now she knew he was the Earl of Bridgemere she was putting on a false face. Smiling when what she really wanted to do was take him down a peg or two.
His comment wiped the smile from her face. She barely managed to prevent herself from informing him that she did not like him in either persona! As a servant she had thought him impertinent, as well as resenting the improper thoughts his proximity had sent frolicking through her mind. As an earl… Well, she had already decided he was a cold, hard, unpleasant sort of man before she had even met him. Now she had met him she could add eccentric and unprincipled to the list of faults she was tallying up against him. Stringing her along like that, when one word would have put her straight!
However, it would not do to tell him what she really thought. Forcing herself to adopt what she hoped was a suitably humble tone, she said instead, ‘For which I do most sincerely apologise. It was just that you dress so…’ She waved her hand at his attire, which was so ordinary that she defied anyone who did not know to guess that this man held the rank of Earl.
But her speech made no impact on the depth of his scowl.
‘And then again, the way you just picked up my aunt and carried her upstairs, as though…’
‘You expected me to stand back and watch as she fell to the ground? Is that it?’
He could not tolerate people who were too high in the instep to lend a hand to those less fortunate than themselves. It sickened him when he saw highly bred females hold scented handkerchiefs to their noses as they turned their faces away from beggars. And what kind of man would let a fainting lady drop to the stone flags rather than risk creasing the fabric of his coat?
‘You were struggling with her dead weight,’ he pointed out. ‘And Peters was just standing there gaping. Somebody had to do something.’ And from the way she had railed at him on the subject of rank and need he had thought she felt the same. ‘As you so forcefully pointed out,’ he reminded her.
His eyes had gone so cold and hard it made her want to shiver. She quailed at the reminder of exactly what she had said to him on that occasion. He was clearly still very annoyed with her for being so impertinent.
‘Yes, I know I was terribly
‘It’s a dog!’ she said, then blushed at the absurdity of stating the obvious. Of course it was a dog. Not a heap of sacking. Why on earth would an earl have piles of mildewed sacks about the place?
‘Yes,’ he said icily. ‘Do you wish me to have him removed? Does he offend you?’
‘What?’ She frowned. ‘No, of course he does not offend me. He just took me by surprise, that is all.’
His mouth twisted into the same expression of distaste he had turned on the woman who had presided at the foot of his dinner table the night before.
‘You think it beneath my dignity to own an animal of such uncertain pedigree? Is that it?’
It was a complaint he was always hearing from Lady Thrapston. Why could he not live up to his consequence? Why would he not go to town and ride around Hyde Park in a smart equipage? So that she could bask in his reflected glory, naturally. As though she did not occupy an elevated enough sphere in her own right!
And if he must have a dog, why could it not be an animal of prime pedigree, a gundog, the kind every other man would have.
As if he cared about appearances these days.
Helen was determined to hold her temper in check, inspite of his provoking manner. She managed to return a placating smile to his frown, and say, ‘No, not at all.’
The smile and the soft answer did not placate him. Their only effect was to make his scowl deeper.
‘I preferred you when you thought I was one of my servants,’ he muttered.
At least when she’d thought he was a footman he’d had the truth from her. Now she knew he was the Earl of Bridgemere she was putting on a false face. Smiling when what she really wanted to do was take him down a peg or two.
His comment wiped the smile from her face. She barely managed to prevent herself from informing him that she did not like him in either persona! As a servant she had thought him impertinent, as well as resenting the improper thoughts his proximity had sent frolicking through her mind. As an earl… Well, she had already decided he was a cold, hard, unpleasant sort of man before she had even met him. Now she had met him she could add eccentric and unprincipled to the list of faults she was tallying up against him. Stringing her along like that, when one word would have put her straight!
However, it would not do to tell him what she really thought. Forcing herself to adopt what she hoped was a suitably humble tone, she said instead, ‘For which I do most sincerely apologise. It was just that you dress so…’ She waved her hand at his attire, which was so ordinary that she defied anyone who did not know to guess that this man held the rank of Earl.
But her speech made no impact on the depth of his scowl.
‘And then again, the way you just picked up my aunt and carried her upstairs, as though…’
‘You expected me to stand back and watch as she fell to the ground? Is that it?’
He could not tolerate people who were too high in the instep to lend a hand to those less fortunate than themselves. It sickened him when he saw highly bred females hold scented handkerchiefs to their noses as they turned their faces away from beggars. And what kind of man would let a fainting lady drop to the stone flags rather than risk creasing the fabric of his coat?
‘You were struggling with her dead weight,’ he pointed out. ‘And Peters was just standing there gaping. Somebody had to do something.’ And from the way she had railed at him on the subject of rank and need he had thought she felt the same. ‘As you so forcefully pointed out,’ he reminded her.
His eyes had gone so cold and hard it made her want to shiver. She quailed at the reminder of exactly what she had said to him on that occasion. He was clearly still very annoyed with her for being so impertinent.
‘Yes, I know I was terribly
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