Anthony grimaced at the two pounds of meat the canine consumed.Not hungry now.“We have to talk.”
She pasted on the most angelic expression Anthony had ever seen. “About what? She’s a very nice companion. The blacksmith said I could have the dog. It’s beginning to rain and my horse is in the stables.”
“I knowunescorted.” He ground out his words. The dog stopped eating and whined.
“Most American women go out unescorted.”
“We are not longhouses and savages in England.”
“You are behaving like a savage, Lord Anthony. And where isyourguard?”
“I left without one in a hurry to findyou.”
“Here take a candy cane.”
“I don’t want one,” he shouted. The dog lifted its head, looked at Anthony and ran.
“Now look what you’ve done. You’ve scared off my dog.”
“Good…why have you ordered the blacksmith to—”
“I didn’t.”
“He said you did.”
“The Duke ordered it.”
“My father?”
“He’s the Duke, isn’t he?”
He’d bite off his tongue before he’d admit to her deliberate attempt to run circles around him. “Get in my carriage before you get wet.” He handed her up, followed, and then, clapped the door shut.
“Who is the driver? He looks kind of rough,” said Rachel.
Anthony pounded a fist on the carriage to signal the driver. The sooner he got this dispute over with and Rachel back in his lab the better. “The devil I know. Thompson must be out sick. He’s the replacement. Quit changing the subject. I have to get my project done and that stubborn blacksmith won’t do mine until yours is done.”
“There was a strange man in the village. He had that coal dust in the lung kind of cough, the same kind we heard before the flower pot fell on us. He asked questions about your family. Are you sure you don’t want a candy cane?”
She wasn’t paying attention to one word he said, her head out the window, the mangy dog racing alongside, snapping at the wheels. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want a candy cane. I want—”
“Stop the carriage,” she hailed the driver.
“You’re not bringing that filthy mutt in the carriage.”
With a mutinous glare, she popped open the door and the dog hopped in, yapping, tail-up and nose-dived straight into her lap.
Anthony’s nostrils flared. Lavender and Lemon balm mixed with London sewer. “I can’t believe it. You allowed that mutt in here against my orders. Out with him.”
“Never.” She clutched the mud-packed, black beast to her chest mindless of soiling her gown.
He jabbed a finger midair, pointing at her. “My father will not allow him in the house. And I don’t want to see the mongrel anywhere near my lab.”
“He’s hungry and I’m going to care for him.”
“You’ll have to house him in the stables. I’m allergic to dogs.”
She smirked with thatsure you arelook.
