“My dear man, this dog has been lost for some time, and had it not been for my son, she may have starved near the cliff where we retrieved her. We are still euphoric over finding her. As you can see, she is in quite a state,” she began.
“But, Your Grace,” the innkeeper cut in, plaintively.
His mother’s glare silenced the man. “Let me be clear. Our attendance at your establishment includes my dog, Gracie, or we will go to The Red Hen. It is only a few more miles down the road. I would hate to move my business over such a trivial misunderstanding,” the duchess scolded.
The man glanced at Slade, as if looking for his help. Slade made a subtle move with his head, showing his mother had spoken.
“Yes, Your Grace. It was a silly misunderstanding. I can see the animal has been part of your family. I merely confused her with another dog that had been hanging around foraging for food a month hence.” He clapped his hands and a young maid suddenly appeared. “Please see that this dog is given a bath and proper sustenance.”
“Yes, Mr. Itchy,” the young woman said before turning and heading into the kitchen.
Slade exchanged looks with his mother. “Mr. Itchy, it would be my fervent hope that if you see a dog such as this foraging for food, as you say,” she waved her hand dismissively, “you might consider it needs sustenance and feed it.”
His mother’s words caught Slade by surprise. She had never once asked for a dog, and to his knowledge, had never had one.
As they walked to their rooms, she gave a quiet explanation. “Your father and I had a small dog when we first married. The poor creature made him sneeze to where when Cleo died, I never asked for another.”
“I was not aware, Mother. I believe, after your proper set down and the man’s quick reversal, he will be most obliging toward your family dog,” he said with a wink.
Indeed, Gracie had a bath brought to her straight away with scented soap, towels, and a housemaid to clean and dry her. Once all was done, she gave her now-familiar cheery smile with her black lips framing a misaligned under-bite and thumped her tail on the floor of the room.
Once his family had settled and had a hearty dinner in a private dining area, the small party dispersed to their rooms. His and Latham’s rooms flanked his mother and sister’s, providing a little more security. There was little debate about whom Gracie planned to sleep with. Tabetha had naturally assumed she would sleep with her and attempted to persuade the puppy to doze by the fire in her room. However, Gracie’s mind was settled, and she followed Slade to his room and quickly scurried under his bed.
No sooner had he settled himself between the sheets when the dog hopped onto his bed, deciding to take her half of his pillow. She put her furry head down and nudged his sleepy one, settling down on the pillow behind his head and went to sleep, her breathing barely audible.
“You have your ideas, don’t you, little girl?” he whispered to her. “I wish you could tell me why you were left out there.” He reached around his head and gently stroked her head, eliciting a lick to his ear. “You seem much better now. I know you were frightened and hungry—and cold.”
The small dog whimpered in return.
“I cannot imagine anyone leaving you as I found you,” he murmured. He checked the stables before leaving to see if anyone recognized Gracie. For an unexplainable reason, the thought gave him peace. It was as if his inner self knew something he had not been privy to. Satisfied, he fell asleep.
When dawn peeked through his window, Slade had dressed. He looked forward to Talbert joining him in London. He had sent his valet to Brighton, asking him to inquire about for information on Lady Evers’s recent visit there. There had to be some sort of connection.
No sooner did they announce they were traveling to London, than she announced she would return to Brighton and would stay with an ailing aunt. This was the first anyone had heard of relations in Brighton—and he wanted to confirm the existence of the aunt. It made no sense, but somehow Slade felt sure the pieces would fall together.
The line in Graham’s letter haunted him.‘All may not be as it seems,’Graham had written.Perhaps his brother had second-guessed his decision based on . . .what?Slade mentally added items, hoping to determine the existence of any connection to the letter. Nothing made sense. Once he arrived in London, he would make what he trusted would be a short-term use of his brother’s title. He could handle being His Grace for a week. Hopefully, they would find Graham alive when they arrived in London.
Slade took Gracie with him to the stables, intending to take her to Tabetha’s room when they finished. His sister would see that she ate well and seemed to have already formed an attachment to the animal. Slade felt guilty that the dog preferred to sleep with him but felt conflicted. He had never had a pet before—let alone one with such a huge personality as Gracie had.
Once in the stables, he allowed Gracie to run free, feeling sure she would stay close, and observed a sense of familiarity she seemed to have. He hoped she would ferret out anyone she might know. She wagged her body as she approached each of the ostlers. One turned around and petted her but conveyed no sense of knowing her. He was about to give up when Smitty, the blacksmith, smiled at the dog and chucked a finger at her.
“You again,” he laughed.
Gracie wagged her body at him, edging over towards Slade. It was as if she was afraid of something. The man seemed friendly enough.What was it?
“You know my dog?” Slade ventured.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Smitty replied. “Aye, I think I may know her. She is an unusual dog—hard to forget. How long ’ave you had her?”
“Not too long,” Slade replied. “We found her, and my family has taken quite a liking to her.”
“She was ’ere close to a fortnight ago with two men. They stopped in, they said to meet someone. Not the friendly type, if you get my meaning. The innkeeper did not like their ilk, I heard. They ’ad the dog on a rope and tried to bring her with them but ’ad to leave her outside. That’s when I met her. They claimed to have found her. Right mean to the dog if you asked me.”
“That’s interesting,” Slade murmured. “Did they call her anything?”
“They called herdog,” the blacksmith replied. “I probably would not have noticed ’cept they didn’t bother to feed her. She stayed around here while they did business inside. Took up with me. I would have taken her home, but my missus just had our fourth baby. She would have worn my ears out, telling me we have enough mouths to feed.” The man smiled down at the small dog and scratched her behind the ears. “Can I ask how you have her?” He regarded Slade.
“I found her whimpering and tied to a tree, soaked, nearly frozen, and starving. You can see her ribs. I am trying to find the men that left her in such a state,” Slade said.
