How to Steal a Scoundrel's Heart (The Mating Habits of Scoundrels #4)(4)
Surprisingly, the beast trotted toward her. But heeling wasn’t at all what he had in mind.
Instead, he bounded up with his paws reaching to her shoulders, his hindquarters wagging with glee. However, since he likely outweighed her by a stone, she summarily toppled to the squelchy ground with an audible splat.
A huff of indignation preceded her careful attempts to stand with utmost decorum. Yet, as soon as she righted herself and shook out her skirts, the dog woofed and knocked her down again.
This was all just a game to the exceptionally enormous puppy and wasn’t likely to end anytime soon with the shepherd busily trying to corral his errant sheep. So, Leo decided to intervene.
Placing the hook of his thumb and middle finger between his lips, he issued a shrill, ascending whistle. Instantly, the drover turned, ears perked like two spraying fountains beneath that tangled mop. Then he loped obediently over to Leo, sat on his haunches and dropped the valise.
Behind him, and a little muddier than before, the young woman stiffly smoothed her clothes as though she wore a coronation robe instead of a threadbare cloak. As she approached, he heard her grumble, “You couldn’t have done that sooner?”
He felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth as he lifted her bag from the ground. “I believe this is”—just then one side of the handle tore free of its stitching—“yours.”
She issued a soft, barely audible growl as she reached out. But she took special care to ensure that her grip wasn’t even close to coming into contact with his. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Delighted to be of service,” he said and saw those stormy eyes narrow ever so slightly.
Behind him, Phoebe gave his shoulder a light shove to move him out of her view. “Miss Thorogood, what a lovely surprise to see you here. It’s been an age since we’ve last met.”
“Oh, Lady Chastaine. How very . . . kind of you to remember me,” the young woman said, all politeness. But it was clear in her halting tone and shifting stance that she was eager to depart their company. “If you would forgive me, I’m not quite fit for a social visit and must be on my way. I have a pressing errand to attend.”
“Isn’t that forever the way of it, my dear? When we are dressed ever so smartly we hardly see a soul. But when we are at our worst, we will run into everyone we’ve ever met,” his companion purred. “Surely you can spare a moment or two while we’re waiting for the sheep to move onward. That is . . . unless it would sully your pride to associate with the likes of a fallen woman and her former protector.”
Miss Thorogood straightened her shoulders, the flesh around that Cupid’s-bow mouth tightening. “As you have doubtless witnessed from my current state, it is clear that I have no pride. Therefore, it must be curiosity that prompts your invitation and, for that reason, I will decline it. Thank you all the same, my lady.”
This stranger was no simpleton, to be sure. And for some peculiar reason, witnessing her cool show of mettle stirred a measure of admiration within him.
Just as she was turning to leave, Lady Chastaine added hurriedly, “Settle your feathers, my dear. I meant no offense.” She huffed. Though there must have been enough contrition in her voice to earn a patient pause from their guest. “Do stay for a moment, please. I promise to hold a tight rein on the ribbons of my curiosity. Your presence would be most welcome. Necessary, in fact, as Savage and I have exhausted our attempts at playing nice. Of course, you’ve met the marquess, haven’t you? No? Well, you have now.”
“Lord Savage.” Miss Thorogood offered a dignified curtsy. She did not blush or simper as most young women did when introduced to him, but met his gaze squarely, like an old crone who had lived a thousand lifetimes and had yet to be impressed by anything.
The irredeemable scoundrel in Leo was half tempted to take her hand and bring it to his lips, just to see what she might do. But he tamped down the wayward impulse and merely inclined his head. “A pleasure.”
“There, now that all of the niceties have commenced, I insist that you allow us to assist you in any way we can,” Lady Chastaine said with the tenacity he’d once found charming. “After all, it must be a tremendously important errand for you to brave such dreary weather, and on foot. To where will you be traveling?”
“The ribbons seem to have slipped from your grasp already, my lady,” Miss Thorogood responded, but without censure. Instead, she issued an undisguised exhale of resignation as the panting dog suddenly licked her hand before settling down again at Leo’s side. “If you must know, I’m going to take the stagecoach to London.”
“My dear, that is absolutely splendid! You’ll be the toast of the demimonde.”
“Actually, I—”
“Though in order to take London by storm,” Phoebe interrupted, “you’ll need a gentleman of influence on your arm. And I just happen to know of one who will soon be losing a companion. He’s rich as Croesus. Generous, not only with gifts but with his—shall I say—natural endowments,” she added with a salacious waggle of her brows toward Leo. “And he’s not terrible on the eyes either. In truth, Savage has only one great flaw.”
“And that is?” he interjected impassively. Like stage actors in a play that had run too long in Haymarket, he knew his lines as well as Lady Chastaine’s.