“I can explain what happened, you know, as can Letty and Lila. Where are they? Are you keeping them locked away somewhere?”
The suspicious glare she pinned him with suggested she thought him capable of all manner of villainy.
“Lady Violetta and Lady Lila are not in residence,” he informed her. “They are a day’s train ride away, visiting our aunt and uncle, the Earl and Countess of Hargrove.”
Her mouth fell open, and for once, the minx was reduced to silence.
“They’re not here at Marchingham Hall?” she asked at length.
“As I just said.”
“I intended to surprise them.”
She looked so heartbroken in that moment, almost comically bereft with her hat halfway off her head, snow still lining her pelisse, and the frenetic dog in her lap. Then she sniffled, tears welling in her vivid green eyes.
Well, Christ.
The woman was madandmaudlin. She was also presently melting snow all over his floor whilst seated indecorously upon it.
With an irritated sigh, he stalked forward, extending a hand to her.
The mongrel made a high-pitched sound of outrage and nipped at Lion’s fingers.
He glared at the creature. “Do you dare to bite me in my own home, you insolent mongrel?”
“She would never bite anyone,” Miss Fox hastily defended the dog in her lap. “Would you, sweet pea?”
The dog licked her chin in response.
Lion knew when he had felt teeth, curse the woman. Fortunately for the hound, she hadn’t clamped down or actually caused him injury.
“Regardless, it will need to bed down in the stables,” he informed her coolly.
“No.” Miss Fox clutched the dog to her.
“Yes. Because this ismyhome, andIdo not like mongrels.”
“Spend some time with her, and you’ll change your mind.”
He glared.
She smiled brightly.
Lion hissed out a sigh of frustration. “I can assure you that nothing can alter my opinion on the matter.”
He’d had a dog once. Mittens had been struck by a cart and killed. Since that wretched day, Lion had been unable to stomach the presence of any dog in his vicinity. This particular one was no different.
“To the stables with the mongrel,” he added harshly before adding, “and do get up off the floor, Miss Fox. I understand you are American, but one would imagine you possess at least a modicum of decorum. I’ll see that Mrs. Burton comes to show you to your room.”
With a curt, hasty bow, he took his leave.
CHAPTER 2
Addy was finally dry and warm, and she was more convinced than ever that the Duke of Marchingham was indeed an arrogant, haughty arse.
Perhaps worse.
Strike that.
