Nora did not give him the treat.
He whined pathetically and gave her baleful stares between desperate leaps for the treat.
She looked at Mr. Grenville. “Now what?”
“Now he knows what doesn’t work.” He tilted his head toward the mantel. “Put your teacake back on the tray. This time when I tell him to heel, if he doesn’t listen—”
“Whenhe doesn’t listen,” Nora corrected helpfully.
“When he fails to listen,” Mr. Grenville amended, “do your best to hold him still. If he behaves, he’ll earn the treat.”
Nora set her bit of teacake back onto the tray, careful not to allow any crumbs to fall to the floor. Captain Pugboat would think they were for him.
“Here, boy,” Mr. Grenville called. “Come here if you want a delicious and only slightly squished lemon cake.”
Captain Pugboat all but climbed up Mr. Grenville’s breeches in an attempt to rescue the treat from its forbidden tower.
Mr. Grenville held up his other hand in theHalt!position. “Heel, boy. Heel.”
Nora rushed forward and bent over Captain Pugboat to hold his wrinkly, wiggling hips in place.
He jumped up and licked her nose, which startled Nora into relaxing her hold. The puppy immediately launched himself back into the air—but this time, her face was still in the way.
His wrinkled shoulders connected with her jaw, sending her head crashing backward—right into Mr. Grenville’s outstretched hand.
A blizzard of cake crumbs fluttered down from the heavens.
Nora dissolved into laughter.
Captain Pugboat dashed about the sitting room in a mad attempt to leave no crumb behind.
Undaunted, Mr. Grenville returned to the mantel to break off another piece of cake. “Second time is the charm.”
As luck would have it, the second time was not the charm. Or the third, or the fifth, or the tenth. But somewhere around attempt number twenty, Captain Pugboat realized what was being asked of him and finally sat on his haunches without requiring Nora’s assistance to still his hips.
“Very good!” Mr. Grenville said approvingly as he gave the puppy his treat.
Nora was proud, but skeptical. “I fear we’ve taught him that ‘heel’ means ‘sit for a treat’ rather than ‘stop.’”
“He has to stop in order to sit,” Mr. Grenville pointed out reasonably. “If Lady Roundtree wished for Captain Pugboat to heel in a nuanced manner, she should have specified the pose before falling asleep.”
“Resting her eyes,” Nora said firmly.
As they shared a grin, she couldn’t help but wish for moments like this together every day.
He made even the mundane fun and exciting. As much as Nora warned herself to keep up her shields, Mr. Grenville was exactly the sort of easy-going, fun-loving person she would love to call a friend.
If he were a blacksmith or a dairy farmer, a girl like her might even hold out hope for an eventual courtship.
But those were not her cards.
He was a baron, not a blacksmith. Their relationship—if indeed she could be arrogant enough to claim she shared one with him—was doomed to be both platonic and temporary.
Yet she could not tear her gaze from his. No matter how platonic and temporary these stolen moments might be, their growing bond was a thousand times more precious than anything she’d ever dreamed of having with someone like him. Even if all she could hope for were crumbs, she’d take them.
“What do you think?” she asked with a smile. “Have we earned our keep for the day?”
Mr. Grenville wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. “I believe we have tamed the lion. Is it showtime?”
