“Precisely.”
Madeline paused, all the happiness and excitement draining out of her. “I don’t think I want a fancy castle or a fairy grandmother, then.”
“Pardon?” The duchess’s eyebrows drew down.
“In the stories, the fairy godmother gives people what they want most. But it doesn’t seem like fairygrandmothers are the same. I don’t want to live in any place without my mamma and papa.”
Fox’s heart squeezed at her declaration of loyalty.
“Don’t be a silly goose,” the duchess said. “I promise you will adore living with me.”
A long pause. Madeline studied the woman, as if contemplating her offer.
Leah squeezed Fox’s hand. He could feel her urging him to keep his temper in check, to stem the flood of words building in his chest.
That Madeline washischild in every way that mattered. That she needed to stay withhim.
“Will Mr. Dandy like living with you, too?” The tentative quiver in Madeline’s voice about broke Fox’s resolve.
The duchess blinked. “Who?”
“Mr. Dandelion McFluffles, of course.” Madeline’s matter-of-fact voice made it sound like everyone knew who the cat was.
“’Tis her cat, Your Grace,” Leah said.
“A . . .cat.” The duchess said the wordcatmuch as one might saytaxesora pox.
Enthusiastically, Madeline nodded her head, abruptly realizing she had a new audience to regale. “Mr. Dandy is the finest cat in all the world.”
Fox couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. The duke and duchess would soon learnthatfor the lie it was. Perhaps the duchess had saidcatwith the appropriate amount of venom when it came to Mr. Dandy.
Regardless, Madeline prattled on for a few minutes, extolling her cat’s virtues—the softness of his fur, his clever antics in evading detection. But with every word, the duchess appeared more and more alarmed.
“I am sure your cat is lovely, child,” she interrupted, “but I don’t think there is room for a cat in my castle.”
Madeline frowned. “But you said your castle was enormous, bigger than Laverloch.” She spread her hands wide. “How could one wee cat not fit into that space? There is plenty of room for him here.”
As if sensing the most theatrical moment to make an appearance—because, of course, the dratted cat would do such a thing—the door swung open and Mr. Dandy himself pranced into the room, tail held high.
The duchess sat back in her chair, clutching the duke’s arm.
“Mr. Dandy!” Madeline cried.
And for once in the cat’s benighted life, he did not run off as Madeline approached, but instead, allowed the girl to pick up his sizeable girth and proudly return to the duchess. Or rather, awkwardly stumble. Fox was quite sure Mr. Dandy was nearly half Madeline’s size. His tail dragged on the ground as Madeline waddled over to her grandparents.
“This is my Mr. Dandy,” Madeline said proudly. “Isn’t he lovely?”
The cat meowed. Fox was unsure if it was in agreement or protest over being so manhandled.
“I do not like cats.” The duchess fetched a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to her nose. “They are wretched, deceitful creatures, and they make me sneeze.”
As if to prove the point, Her Grace sneezed daintily into her linen.
“How can you not like cats?” Madeline asked, astonished. “They are so wonderful.” She rubbed her curls against Mr. Dandy’s cheek.
Mr. Dandy decided that he had had enough and kicked out of Madeline’s arms, leaping to the floor. He sauntered three steps to the left and then sat, tail swishing, blue eyes staring up at the Duke and Duchess of Westhampton with his best Machiavellian glare. The stare that made you fear for your life.
Not even the Duke and Duchess of Westhampton were immune to it.
