“Th-thank you,” she said, teeth clicking together.
She needed to get inside and warm herself before a roaring fire. Gently, he settled her away from him. The more distance between the two of them, the better. Ideally, there would yet again be an ocean as soon as possible.
“Your Grace,” Jacob greeted him as he approached, tugging at his forelock. “I’ll take Athena out of the snow and see her settled.”
Lion gave his mount a fond rub on her muzzle and then handed off the reins to the groom. “Thank you, Jacob.”
Reluctantly, he turned back to his unwanted guest, offering her his arm. “Miss Fox?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Are you…?”
“The Duke of Marchingham,” he informed her, garnering a bit of enjoyment from the shock passing over her face. “Quite.”
“Not a thief, then.”
“Not a thief.”
“Oh.”
She bit her lip, and then a shudder went over her as the wind blew snow into their faces. The ridiculous woman almost sounded dismayed. But then, what had he expected from her? A proper curtsy? The appropriate deference that was his due? Hardly. Miss Adelia Fox’s reputation preceded her.
“I expect you shall need to stand before the fire and warm yourself,” he said. “Come. There’s no need to tarry in the snow.”
He guided his vexing, unwanted guest beneath the portico where they were at last sheltered from the snow and then to the double doors, which swept open at their approach. Stevens, his loyal butler, bowed and stood back to allow them entrance. Lionel stripped away his gloves, hat, and coat, handing them off.
Suddenly, a small creature raced into the entry hall, barking loudly enough to make Lion wince. The hound rushed directly for Miss Fox, emitting a sound that was more suited to a cat than a dog.
Miss Fox dropped to her knees in a sea of wool and snow. She eagerly scooped the mongrel into her arms, whereupon it proceeded to thoroughly lick her face and ears, knocking her snow-laden hat askew in its vigor.
“Oh, my darling,” she was crooning to the pointy-eared hound. “Mama missed you too. Yes, she did. Yes, Mama missed you, sweet pea.”
Lion stared at the spectacle of snow and woman and dog on the marble floor. How disgraceful. He wasn’t surprised, of course. But he remained properly horrified as the hound proceeded to lick Miss Fox’s throat as she giggled in scandalous abandon.
The sound of her laughter wasn’t grating as some women’s levity was. But it was loud and boisterous, wild peals that echoed off the high ceilings. Stevens clasped his hands behind his back and respectfully averted his gaze. And well he might have done, for Marchingham Hall had presently, and quite literally, gone to the dogs.
Lion needed to act. Posthaste.
“I’m afraid that the mongrel will need to bed down in the stables,” he warned Miss Fox, interrupting her reunion.
The hound licked her cheek, and Lion found himself incongruously, ridiculously envious of the brindle dog. He tamped down the unwanted sensation at once.
“She cannot sleep in the stables,” Miss Fox said, her voice outraged. “She sleeps with me.”
“Then perhaps you shall also seek shelter in the stables,” he said.
He didn’t mean it, of course. Unfortunately, the dreadful Miss Fox would have to remain under this roof until the snow ceased and the roads to York were passable again. But he’d never had an American writhing on his entryway floor with a dog before.
It was making him peevish.
“You expect me to bed down with your horses?” she asked, looking astonished by such a prospect. “I think not, sir. Where are Letty and Lila? They’ll no doubt be horrified to learn of their brother’s ill treatment of their closest finishing-school friend.”
“By closest friend, do you mean to say the friend whose ruinous, reckless influence caused them to be sent away from finishing school?” he asked sharply. “Because that is the only Miss Adelia Fox I am aware of, a cunning, wayward American jade who encouraged my sisters to make unfortunate decisions with lasting consequences.”
She flinched as if he had struck her, and Lion knew a moment of regret for speaking so harshly, particularly before a servant. He sent a pointed glance in the butler’s direction, and Stevens caught his gaze, offering a barely perceptible nod before he disappeared.
“You disapprove of me,” Miss Fox said, cradling her dog to her bodice now as she eyed Lion as if he were a monster.
“How can I not?”
