Buttercup’s mournful howl echoed from the garden, and Aaron envied the dog’s freedom to grieve openly what Aaron would mourn in private for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER 33
“Buttercup refuses to walk properly without Emily.”
Lady Merrow stood in the entrance hall of Sulton House, the massive dog planted firmly at her feet like a furry mountain of stubborn disapproval. Louise gripped the doorframe, unprepared for the sight of them both on her threshold at ten in the morning, three days after leaving Calborough House.
“Lady Merrow.” Louise dropped into an automatic curtsy while her heart performed acrobatics against her ribs. “This is unexpected.”
“Is it?” The older woman swept past her into the narrow hallway, Buttercup following reluctantly. His great head swung from side to side, nose working furiously as he catalogued these new, unfamiliar scents. “I distinctly recall promising Emily daily visits. Promises to children should never be broken.”
The dog’s tail, usually a weapon of mass destruction, hung limp as he investigated the faded wallpaper and worn floorboards. Everything here smelled wrong to him. No beeswax polish, no fresh flowers, no lingering scent of Aaron’s cologne in the air.
“Buttercup!” Emily’s voice exploded from the top of the stairs. She flew down with reckless abandon, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste.
The transformation of the dog was instantaneous. His tail became a blur of motion, and his whole body wiggled as Emily threw her arms around his neck. They collapsed together onto the threadbare rug. Emily laughed through tears while Buttercup attempted to lick every inch of her face.
“You came! You really came!” Emily buried her face in his fur. “I thought you’d forget me.”
The joy on her sister’s face made Louise’s chest constrict painfully. For this moment, Emily looked like the child she had been at Calborough House. Carefree. Beloved. Happy.
Then reality crept back in. Emily pulled away slightly, her small fingers tangling in Buttercup’s fur with desperate possession.
“You can’t stay, can you?” The words emerged so quietly that Louise almost missed them. “You have to go back home.”
Buttercup whined and pressed his massive head against Emily’s chest, as if he could push himself inside her and never leave.
“We’ll visit every morning as promised.” Lady Merrow’s voice carried forced cheer that fooled no one. “Though this house is rather more difficult to find than expected. Poor Buttercup was quite confused by all the turns.”
Emily nodded without looking up from the dog. Her fingers found his ear, stroking the soft fur in a repetitive motion that had become her new method of self-soothing.
“Would you like to show them the morning room?” Louise injected false brightness into her voice. “I believe Mrs. Fielding has managed some tea.”
The morning room looked even shabbier with Lady Merrow’s elegant presence highlighting every water stain and patched cushion. George sat hunched over his ledgers, still wearing yesterday’s shirt, ink stains on his fingers suggesting he’d worked through the night.
He lurched to his feet when Lady Merrow entered, swaying slightly from exhaustion.
“Lady Merrow. Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting callers.”
“Sit down before you collapse.” Lady Merrow commanded with the authority of someone used to being obeyed. “When did you last sleep?”
George blinked owlishly. “Tuesday, I believe?”
“Today is Thursday.”
“Ah. That would explain the hallucinations.”
Lady Merrow turned her sharp gaze on Louise. It lingered in the shadows under her eyes, the way her dress hung looser than it should, the tremor in her hands as she poured tea.
“Emily, darling,” Lady Merrow said without breaking eye contact with Louise, “why don’t you show Buttercup your room? I’m certain he’d love to see your treasure collection.”
Emily hesitated, clearly recognizing the dismissal but reluctant to leave. Finally, she stood, one hand twisted in Buttercup’s collar.
“Come on, Buttercup. My room’s not as nice as the one at your house, but I still have my special things.”
They trudged upstairs, Buttercup’s claws clicking on bare wood where the carpet had worn through. The sound echoed in the silence they left behind.
Lady Merrow waited precisely three seconds after the door closed above before speaking.
