“If you are bored,” the dowager said sweetly, “perhaps we ought to do something about it.”
Chapter 19
“Iwill not do such a thing, I say! Why should I waste one more minute looking for that infernal beast? Perhaps if I do find her, I will have her stuffed and mounted. That way, she would not have to trouble anyone anymore!” Benedict huffed.
The duke was furious at the thought that the dowager duchess believed he was the only one who could solve her problems.
He stood in the hallway, trying to fix the cuff of his coat that suddenly did not look right to him. He was already late for a meeting, but the old woman chose that time to block his path. Her face expressed an air of utmost tragedy.
“You do not understand! Lupita is the light of my life! I cannot imagine her gone. Can’t a man of your respectable discipline spare a moment for an old woman and her dog?” she asked.
“Your Grace, you are hardly without canine companionship,” the duke reminded the Dowager Duchess. His tone remained impeccable, but he was beginning to sound weary. “You will still have Pepita. I believe a woman of your stature will manage with one dog.”
The dowager gave an outraged gasp.
“What? Are you telling me to make do with Pepita? Benedict, you do not have a soul. You do not even care about animals. Pepita will be devastated without her sister. They even share a bed and dinner. They have an unbreakable bond!”
Was the damned woman batting her eyelashes? He certainly hoped not.
“I have already instructed one of the stable hands to comb the grounds. He is currently finding assistance from the rest of the staff. Now, I really must meet with the Earl of Roxborough. I am already late,” he ground out, as he tried to hold on to the last of his patience.
“The earl can wait! You are a duke. You outrank him! He will also understand that this is a matter of life and death!”
The poor woman probably believed what she was saying. Benedict had to keep himself from sighing heavily. It was not the way he would have liked to start the day.
“While that may be true about the rank, I have never and will never use it as a reason to be late for a meeting. Moreover, it is not a matter of life and death. It is a poodle!” he exclaimed, unhappy that he was losing his temper.
“A poodle? Lupita is a Pomeranian!” the dowager duchess sounded completely affronted.
“Still not a matter of life and death, Your Grace,” he said grimly.
“Oh, it is to me, Benedict!” the dowager’s face crumpled. Benedict had to control the urge to roll his eyes. Why did the dowager duchess and her niece both have to inspire terrible behavior from him?
“Fine,” he sighed heavily, running a hand through his usually neat hair. Today, he suspected the strands would be sticking out as he spoke with the earl. “I will go to the library to see if she is there. That rodent seems to enjoy the library far too much.”
“Pomeranian.”
“Rodent,” Benedict insisted. Then, he sighed as the dowager pretended to wail. “Dog. If I do not see the damned dog there, I will leave for my meeting as I should.”
He turned on his heel and strode down the hall, while the dowager tried her best to catch up with him. He turned toward the library, to the last place he had seen Lupita. Was there a chance that the dog was actually trying to bother him in his space?
No. Impossible.
He entered the room, eyes quickly scanning the stacks of books. Every shelf was full. Therefore, no dog, no matter how small, could use those as its hiding place.
“You are wasting your time, Mr. Straton,” a familiar voice murmured from a corner.
Of course, he knew who it was before he turned around. Who else would be so bold as to speak to him that way? She sat by the window, with a chessboard on the table in front of her. Her head bowed low as she studied the pieces with a frown. When she looked up at him, her green eyes sparkled.
At first, there was something: an emotion he could not define. Was she almost, well, sad? Then, it seemed as if she had recovered from the initial reaction, and her eyes glinted with mischief.
“You may be right,” he agreed, even as he narrowed his eyes with suspicion. What was she doing in the library with a chessboard? “However, it is your aunt who has somewhat dragged me into a mess that I am not particularly interested in solving.”
“I hope you find Lupita,” she said, looking back at her chess pieces.
Benedict was curious. Did she like chess? He did not want to make assumptions about a woman who had been surprising him at every turn. However, given her complaints about his dreariness and the unladylike ways she liked to spend her time, he could not imagine her as a chess enthusiast.
Then, he heard the creaking of the door. He had become so preoccupied with Anastasia that he forgot about Lupita and even the dowager duchess, who did not enter the room at all.
