The pug barrel-rolled down the remaining three steps, recovered awkwardly to all fours, then scurried to obey. His claws clickity-clicked across the polished marble floor. Once he skidded to a stop, he plopped his rump against Matthew’s left foot and gazed up at him in adoration.
The cats scattered and sought the safety of high ground, perching on tables and cabinets—one scrambled to the top of the floor clock at the end of the hall.
“Oh my,” Fortuity said with a poorly stifled giggle. “They are rather exuberant, aren’t they? Have you named them yet?” She bent and scratched Ignatius behind the ears. “Are the wicked kitties getting you in trouble, little man?”
Panting heavily, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, the pug seemed to grin in agreement as he wiggled his curly tail.
“The cats came with names,” Matthew said, trying to remember which one was which. He pointed at the black kittens with the white bibs. “One of them is Horatio, and one is Jervis. I have no idea which is which, nor can I tell them apart. Only your sister possesses that ability.” He nodded at the ginger cat. “That one is Abercrombie. Where the devil did the white one go? Wherever he is, the large, fluffy white one is Wellington.”
“British war heroes. How appropriate.” Fortuity snorted with laughter, then covered her mouth. “Oh dear. I am sorry.”
“Do not be sorry, my little wren, because this chaos is yours as well now.” Although her merriment made it all worthwhile. He would fill their home with cats and pugs if it kept her happy. Her laughter washed the house in joy and light. Gads, he loved this woman—if only he could make her forget his stupidity in denying it for so long.
Mrs. Greer cleared her throat, then scattered the servants and cats with a sharp clap of her hounds. “There’s chores to be done, my lovelies. We mustn’t have the mistress thinking we would ever fail her.” She bobbed her head at Fortuity. “I am sure your Miss Anne has your rooms ready. Such a good worker, that girl. I remember her from before. Shall I fetch a fine tea for yourselves and bring it to the parlor, my lord and lady? Your first together in your new home?”
Fortuity looked to Matthew as if uncertain about what to say.
He moved in as if to press a kiss to her temple and whispered in her ear, “This is your house now, my dearest. You are mistress of it. Do as you wish. I merely want you happy.” And then he took advantage of the opportunity and brushed a kiss to her warm, sweet skin before drawing back. He couldn’t help himself.
She drew in a quick breath and glanced at him as though startled. “Uhm… A proper tea would be lovely, Mrs. Greer.”
The housekeeper chortled with glee, then hurried away, bellowing for Thebson the butler to stop dawdling with the animals and take care of the master and mistress.
“Poor Thebson,” Fortuity said as they made their way into the parlor. “He may never forgive me for recommending Mrs. Greer to you.”
A slight sense of disappointment came over him when she settled in a chair rather than on the settee, where he might sit next to her. Determined to think of a way to coax her into joining him, he sat on the end of it closest to her. “When our tea arrives, I think it most appropriate to sweeten it with a bit of brandy in celebration of the day. What say you?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she continued with what appeared to be a disapproving look around the parlor. “You don’t have books stacked everywhere as you did before.” She turned to him with concern. “I loved the way books were piled about as if they were pieces of fine art. You didn’t get rid of them because of me, did you? I adore books and thought having them at your fingertips was just perfect.”
“The day the cats arrived convinced me to rethink the care and storage of our precious books.” He shuddered at the memory of the avalanches caused by the felines when they used the stacks of books to launch themselves to even greater heights.
“Blessing says they settle down once they get older. Many of hers rarely find the energy to rise from their favorite sunny spots on the window ledges.”
“One can only hope.” He reached for her while patting the cushion next to him. “We are married now. You may sit beside me without the risk of anyone accusing you of being a lightskirt.”
A grim somberness settled over her, making him wish he had kept his mouth shut. Then she forced a smile with the slightest incline of her head. “I am quite comfortable right where I am, my lord, but thank you for the reminder.”
Unwilling to surrender in his war to convince her that their marriage could beveryreal, Matthew adopted a nonchalant demeanor. “As you wish, my lady. But your behavior surprises me. I never thought of you as one with tendencies of cowardice.”
“Cowardice?” Her brow shot up and her eyes narrowed.
He nodded. “There is no shame in admitting your fear of sitting next to me.”
“I do not fear sitting next to you.”
He gave her his best patronizing smile. “Of course you don’t.”
With a snorting huff, she rose from her chair, flounced her way to the other end of the settee, and plopped down in a very unladylike manner. “There.”
“You are still not next to me.”
Her mouth fell open in either shock or outrage. He wasn’t sure which.
“There is but one seat cushion between us,” she said. “Do you wish me to sit in your waistcoat pocket?”
He tried not to chuckle and failed, heightening the color of her rosy cheeks to an even lovelier shade of red. “I daresay that would be interesting.”
And then she laughed, thrilling him immensely.
