“Yes. Of course, I have a lavender-scented handkerchief!” Monty said loudly.
“Slipping in and out of character must be exhausting,” Gabe said. “How do you just happen to find a greyhound?”
“Your family and Lady Challoner are approaching,” Monty hissed. “Why is she with you? I didn’t know Dimity and Iris were friends.”
“They apparently rode Forrest’s velocipede together in the park, and that was after meeting at the ball. My wife decided your old friend and neighbor needed to be folded into our family, and so here we all are.”
“She’s not a soufflé, Gabe,” Monty snapped.
“One would think by that snippy response she is important to you.” Gabe smirked.
“La, ’tis it not an exquisite day for a party!” Monty said, ignoring him.
Gabe rolled his eyes again.
“Do something with the dog,” he whispered. “But make sure he goes to a good home,” he added. The animal had suffered enough. He deserved some happiness.
“I am, of course, at your service,” Gabe drawled.
“You look handsome in lavender,” Dimity said when she drew near.
“He always wears lavender,” her husband said.
Iris, Monty noted, hung back with her son. She was exquisite in a pale peach dress. Her bonnet and spencer were mint green velvet. She had yet to look at him.
He felt that same reaction he had when she’d called at his town house. An awareness of her that punched him hard in the gut. That had only increased after their kiss.
There had been women in his life, but he’d left London to service his needs. It would not do for anyone to think Lord Plunge had urges that included a sexual appetite.
The burning feeling deep in his gut he felt for Iris differed completely from anything he’d felt before.
“Lady Challoner.” He bowed to her, so she had to look at him. She moved forward as he’d acknowledged her, bringing Henry with her.
“I thought you were childhood friends?” Dimity was frowning.
“We were,” Monty said.
“Well then, call her Iris.”
“We have not been a part of each other’s lives for many years, Lady Raine,” Monty said in his most pompous voice. “But of course I live to serve you.”
“Don’t give her ideas,” Gabe said.
“Is that a dog, Lord Plunge?” Ella asked, stepping around him and into his carriage.
He turned to watch the little girl. She now sat on the seat next to a quivering Oscar, stroking his head.
“A greyhound I believe,” Monty told her.
“Why do you have a dog in your carriage?” Dimity nudged him aside and moved into the doorway.
“Aww, look at his sad eyes,” Ella said.
“One hopes he’s friendly?” Gabe lowered Patrice to the floor. The child then tugged on her mother’s skirts. Dimity lifted her inside.
“Oscar is an angel,” Monty cooed. “He was quite taken with my peppermint sticks.” He hoped he was right.
Walter let out a loud woof at the words “peppermint sticks” and nudged his way to the carriage. He then jumped inside with the children.
