Rebel refused to get any closer to the animal, so Brooke dismounted and hobbled the mare’s legs so she wouldn’t run off. The dog didn’t shy away as she approached; it just sat next to a large grassy mound watching her. It resembled Dominic’s dog but was bigger and mostly white with a few streaks of gray on its back, which was why from a distance she’d thought it was a lost sheep. It was beautiful, actually, face all white except for a thick border of black around the eyes, which were so pale they looked white as well.
Four feet away from it, she held out a hand so the dog could sniff it, but it didn’t approach her and she didn’t go any closer to it either. Trying to make friends with a dog this big might not be her brightest idea. But someone owned this animal. It didn’t seem feral. It was too calm, too curious. Then it raised its nose as if sniffing the air. Had it caught the scent of Dominic’s dog on her hand?
The dog suddenly let loose a mournful howl. Brooke shivered and nervously stepped back, then stepped back again when the dog stood up. “Well, you probably know—”
She paused when it whined and flicked its ears. She had the incredible thought that it had never heard a human voice before. That was highly unlikely, so she started talking again. “You probably know how to find your way home better’n I do. Or you could follow me. As pretty as you are, someone at Rothdale likely knows who you belong to.”
She turned about and rushed back to Rebel. Mounted again, she felt much safer and glanced back at the dog—ifit was a dog. It was certainly big enough to be a wolf. But she quickly dismissed that notion, not only because wolves were extinct in England, but because this animal wasn’t the least bit wild or threatening as a wolf would surely be.
The dog sat down again and was still watching her. She wished she had something on her to feed it, but all she had was the one carrot she’d brought for Royal, who hadn’t come to the fence to get the treat. She dug it out of her pocket and tossed it halfway to the dog. She had no idea if it would eat a carrot. Maybe she should try giving one to Dominic’s dog later to find out.
Riding away, she glanced back over her shoulder one last time. The animal still hadn’t moved, but it did howl again. She shook off a shiver and urged Rebel to a fast gallop.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“IS EVERYONE ON YOURhousehold staff going to come in here today?” Priscilla complained when another maid she’d never before seen came into Dominic’s suite with fresh water. “Even your cook delivered our dinner. When has she ever done that?”
They were sitting at the chess table Dominic had had brought up from the parlor. Not exactly what Priscilla had thought she would be doing here today, but she was a good sport and didn’t want to tax his wound any more than he did. Priscilla and his mother were the only two people he’d played who had a chance of beating him. Gabriel knew how to play, but he didn’t have the patience for the game and usually lost deliberately just to end it.
Dominic moved his queen. “They are probably just curious about what you’re doing here when it’s been nigh a year since your last visit.”
Priscilla moved her knight into position to force his queen to retreat. “And let’s not forget the more likely reason: that they already favor your bride-to-be and think I’m stirring the pot against her.”
“This is only her fifth day here,” Dominic scoffed, although he, too, had observed that Brooke had charmed his household. It seemed as if she’d been there for weeks, not days, probably because he’d seen so much of her in so short a time.
“Or perhaps your servants worry that the Prince will soon own your estate?”
He scowled. “I’ll marry her if I have to, I just don’t want to. It’ll be a marriage made in hell, so why wouldn’t I do everything in my power to prevent it?”
“But what if it’s not? What if she’s nothing like her brother? Whatever Robert has done to deserve your wrath, no one else perceives him as any more wicked than your typical egotistical rakehell, you know. So why would you condemn your bride just because she’s sister to a man you—”
“Matchmaker isn’t a role that becomes you, Cilla.”
She laughed. “You’ll do as you will no matter what anyone says. I was merely distracting you. Checkmate.”
He laughed and stood up. She was staying the night and had even offered to sleep in his bed, promising she would be careful of his leg. He had declined the offer, but asked her to keep him company until she was ready to retire. He had hoped Brooke would join them for the meal they’d had a few hours ago. Priscilla had been lying beside him in bed and he’d had his arm around her while they talked. He’d timed it just right, too. The food arrived. But Brooke didn’t.
He went to the north window overlooking the park to watch the sunset. The house was sufficiently angled for him to be able to see part of the sunrise and the winding south road from this window, but the sunset had to spread its light widely for him to see any of it. He saw none of it tonight due to a dark bank of clouds.
“It appears to be raining in the north. It’s just as well you didn’t try to get home before dark.”
Priscilla joined him at the window. “That looks nasty.”
“It will likely blow over before you depart in the morning.”
“I don’t mind traveling in the rain, only in the dark. And the wind appears to be blowing north. That might not even reach us.” She glanced down. “Should you be putting pressure on that leg?”
“Only when Gabe isn’t in the room. Damned mother hen, he is. It doesn’t hurt, Cilla. And Dr. Bates doubled up on the stitches after the first set broke.”
“It really doesn’t hurt?” She smiled intimately, placing her hand suggestively on his upper thigh that wasn’t wounded.
He chuckled, guessing the direction of her thoughts. “I only got rid of the fever two days ago. The wound is merely numb, probably from that witchy paste the girl puts on it.”
“You should have married me when you had the chance, darling, then you wouldn’t be in this pickle.”
That wouldn’t have prevented the duels. Whitworth still had to pay for what he’d done. Dominic couldn’t share that with Priscilla. She loved gossip too much and couldn’t be trusted not to spread the reason for Ella’s death far and wide.
However, without that knowledge, she seemed to find his predicament funny. But then she’d also said that she liked the girl’s spunk. Women. There was no accounting for taste or their vagaries.
