Then Kitty saw that there were cows in the field. They were all at a distance at the moment, but that could change.
She ran to the gate that led into the lane and saw a small gap where the hedge met it. It hardly seemed big enough, but a bit of fur was caught on one twig. She opened the gate, calling back, “She escaped this way. She’s not a country dog. She could get into trouble!” She ran into the lane, and Ruth joined her there.
“Call her. She should come.”
“Sillikin! Come!” Beyond the wide barred gate into the field, the dog turned but stayed where she was, wagging her tail, inviting Kitty to the game. The cows were turning their heads to look.
“Devil take you,” Kitty muttered, and then reminded herself to watch her tongue around Ruth. “I’ll go and get her.”
“I’ll help.”
But from the house came a call. “Mistress!”
“What now?” Ruth asked.
“Go. I can manage this.”
Ruth helped Kitty to open the gate a little way. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“I’m not afraid of a few cows.”
“She should be better trained, you know. She’ll have to behave herself in the country.”
“I know. She’s never wandered during walks at Cateril, and in London I mostly kept her on a leash when we went out. Go. I’ll manage.”
Ruth hurried back to the house, and Kitty slipped through the gate, keeping an eye on the brown cows. She’d said she wasn’t afraid of them, but that was true only if they kept their distance. She’d grown up in towns and then lived mostly in London. During her time at Cateril Manor she’d never ventured far from the gardens on her walks.
The ground was trampled to mud around the gate, so she picked her way along the drier edge, where some grass survived. Even so, she could feel dampness seeping through her jean half boots. She’d seen no need to wear her sturdier leather ones for travel.
“Pestilential creature,” she muttered at the dog, who remained out of reach, in cheerful expectation of play.
Just in time, Kitty avoided some cow dung, but that had her continuing to employ some of Marcus’s more colorful language as she navigated the field, holding up her skirts. Now three cows were watching her as they chewed. One took a few steps toward her. Sillikin danced farther away.
She had an idea. Despite what Ruth thought, Sillikin had been well trained and did usually obey a clear command.
“Sit!” she told her sharply.
Surprised but obedient, Sillikin sat. Kitty hurried over, but just as she reached for the dog, Sillikin looked past her and shot off toward the gate. Kitty turned and saw the attraction was a horse and rider.
They’d lived near the unfashionable side of Hyde Park, and Kitty had sometimes walked Sillikin there. That area was popular with men wanting a vigorous ride, so they’d often encountered Marcus’s friends on horseback and always received a welcome. Now, ears flapping, the dog was lolloping over to greet new friends. But this was a stranger on a rangy gray horse that was sidling and staring with white-rimmed eyes at the little monster.
“Sillikin!” Kitty screamed, racing after. “Sit!”
The dog skidded to a halt and obeyed, but only feet from the horse, which was trying to rear, despite its rider’s control.
Kitty dashed closer, grabbed her dog, and backed away. “My apologies, sir. She’s overexcited.”
“I’d say you were, woman. There was no need to screech.”
Cold eyed, blond, and fashionable enough for a London park. Kittyknew,and here she was, in unbecoming gray, a complete mess head to toe, clutching an unruly dog who clearly hadn’t avoided all the dung.
“Yes. No. I’m sorry, sir!”
With that, she fled down the lane instead of back into the parsonage gardens, as if she could somehow deceive him as to her identity. Perhaps Viscount Dauntry wouldn’t connect a hoyden in a field with the sensible widowed friend of the parson’s wife.
When she’d turned a corner, however, she collapsed against a low stone wall. It didn’t matter. As soon as he saw her again, he’d know. He’d never believe she could control his household, and even less that she could be a suitable viscountess. Ruth had been right to worry. Within an hour of arrival she’d ruined everything.
She pushed despondently through the gate and followed a path through graves to the parsonage, too depressed even to castigate the pungent dog. It seemed that Sillikin’s obedience had caused her to sit straight down in some dung, and she had more on her paws. Kitty couldn’t take her into the house like this, so she paused in the garden to try to clean off as much muck as possible with handfuls of grass. The dog’s coat was long, however, and grass didn’t make much impression.
