taking it into her hands, nuzzled it to her cheek. The puppy squirmed, and she cuddled it gently and then inhaled the slightly musky scent of its coat. Doggy scent, she thought with a smile. Lightness filled her. Joy that bubbled up in continued shudders of pleasure. She laughed.
“You do like dogs then?” Froster asked, his voice so full of hope, that it filled her with poignancy.
She nodded.
Still holding his puppy, he looked thoughtful. “My wife did not like dogs.”
“Didn’t she?” Miranda was truly curious. How could his wife have disliked something that he loved?
“She said they were messy.” He frowned. “She had no liking for messy things.”
The puppy nibbled at her neck, tickling her. Miranda laughed softly. “Well, they can be messy.” She placed the puppy in her lap and began to stroke its head. “But many pleasant things are quite untidy.”
“Oh yes, like what?” Froster asked, his forehead wrinkled his eyes alight with what looked like intense interest.
“Gardening, for one.”
“You enjoy gardening?”
“Oh, I do, I have an absolute passion for it.” She heard the wistfulness in her own voice. “And I love to bake and knead bread.”
He put the puppy down then reached to take her hand. “Such beautiful hands you have.” He stroked her palm with his thumb. “So, you don’t mind getting them dirty?”
“I rather enjoy it.”
A strange look crossed his face but, before she had time to contemplate it, the sound of boots on the floorboards made her look to the open doorway.
The Earl of Danvers approached , his blue gaze intense yet unfathomable.
For no good reason, she caught her breath, and her stomach did the most peculiar flip-flop.
“Ah, Miss Jones, I see you have forgotten your dignity.”
Miranda became aware of her position, on the floor, with her velvet skirts spread haphazardly about her.
He gazed down at her, a snide, amused glint in his dark sapphire eyes. “Perhaps I was not remiss in thinking you were too young a girl to grace my party. We do try to keep to certain standards of deportment and elegance.”
Indignation. Rage. Her blood boiled with the twin emotions, and she forgot her earlier gratefulness to this man for having relented in allowing her to attend. Apparently, he had done so for the sheer pleasure of making sport of her. Despite the anger pounding through her blood, she slowly lifted the puppy off her lap in preparation to arise.
The puppy squirmed, then warm wetness flowed over her fingers, a yellow stream that dampened her skirts. A fresh ripe scent followed.
Danvers chuckled. “You are definitely lacking in elegance!”
Froster, who had been watching with his mouth ajar, snapped it shut then brought out his large handkerchief with a rare flourish. He tried to mop up Miranda’s lap. But she could feel the wetness creeping through her two petticoats. She grimaced as the scent of urine grew stronger.
Danvers chuckled again. She could discern the false nature of that chuckle and it made it cut into her all the crueler.
She refused to look at him.
“Really, Danvers, it was your puppies who lacked deportment,” Froster said, glancing at Miranda with a smile plastered over his broad face.
At his open friendliness, her anger eased . She forced a smile, for him. “Indeed, they are poorly behaved.”
“You must bring their mother to task, Danvers,” Froster stood and extended a hand to Miranda. “Come my dear, let’s go get your garments changed before dinner.” He gave her a wink, one that was almost breathtakingly awkward. “I shall help you unhook your gown.”
She took his hand, her smile becoming more and more genuine by the moment.
Fondness warmed his expression.
God. He was such a dear man.
“Yes, I think I shall have a word or two with their dam.” The Earl of Danvers’ voice broke the spell of the moment.
New anger surged through her. She compressed her lips , wanting only to be gone from this chamber.
From
“You do like dogs then?” Froster asked, his voice so full of hope, that it filled her with poignancy.
She nodded.
Still holding his puppy, he looked thoughtful. “My wife did not like dogs.”
“Didn’t she?” Miranda was truly curious. How could his wife have disliked something that he loved?
“She said they were messy.” He frowned. “She had no liking for messy things.”
The puppy nibbled at her neck, tickling her. Miranda laughed softly. “Well, they can be messy.” She placed the puppy in her lap and began to stroke its head. “But many pleasant things are quite untidy.”
“Oh yes, like what?” Froster asked, his forehead wrinkled his eyes alight with what looked like intense interest.
“Gardening, for one.”
“You enjoy gardening?”
“Oh, I do, I have an absolute passion for it.” She heard the wistfulness in her own voice. “And I love to bake and knead bread.”
He put the puppy down then reached to take her hand. “Such beautiful hands you have.” He stroked her palm with his thumb. “So, you don’t mind getting them dirty?”
“I rather enjoy it.”
A strange look crossed his face but, before she had time to contemplate it, the sound of boots on the floorboards made her look to the open doorway.
The Earl of Danvers approached , his blue gaze intense yet unfathomable.
For no good reason, she caught her breath, and her stomach did the most peculiar flip-flop.
“Ah, Miss Jones, I see you have forgotten your dignity.”
Miranda became aware of her position, on the floor, with her velvet skirts spread haphazardly about her.
He gazed down at her, a snide, amused glint in his dark sapphire eyes. “Perhaps I was not remiss in thinking you were too young a girl to grace my party. We do try to keep to certain standards of deportment and elegance.”
Indignation. Rage. Her blood boiled with the twin emotions, and she forgot her earlier gratefulness to this man for having relented in allowing her to attend. Apparently, he had done so for the sheer pleasure of making sport of her. Despite the anger pounding through her blood, she slowly lifted the puppy off her lap in preparation to arise.
The puppy squirmed, then warm wetness flowed over her fingers, a yellow stream that dampened her skirts. A fresh ripe scent followed.
Danvers chuckled. “You are definitely lacking in elegance!”
Froster, who had been watching with his mouth ajar, snapped it shut then brought out his large handkerchief with a rare flourish. He tried to mop up Miranda’s lap. But she could feel the wetness creeping through her two petticoats. She grimaced as the scent of urine grew stronger.
Danvers chuckled again. She could discern the false nature of that chuckle and it made it cut into her all the crueler.
She refused to look at him.
“Really, Danvers, it was your puppies who lacked deportment,” Froster said, glancing at Miranda with a smile plastered over his broad face.
At his open friendliness, her anger eased . She forced a smile, for him. “Indeed, they are poorly behaved.”
“You must bring their mother to task, Danvers,” Froster stood and extended a hand to Miranda. “Come my dear, let’s go get your garments changed before dinner.” He gave her a wink, one that was almost breathtakingly awkward. “I shall help you unhook your gown.”
She took his hand, her smile becoming more and more genuine by the moment.
Fondness warmed his expression.
God. He was such a dear man.
“Yes, I think I shall have a word or two with their dam.” The Earl of Danvers’ voice broke the spell of the moment.
New anger surged through her. She compressed her lips , wanting only to be gone from this chamber.
From
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