“He has taken a liking to you,” Stephen sighed. “My apologies.”
“Why are you apologi—argh!” Amelia gasped as the cat jumped onto her knees, revealing that it was approximately twice the size of an ordinary cat, and certainly at least twice as heavy.
He circled a handful of times on her knees, and Stephen knew from experience that he would be thoughtfully pressing his thick, sharp claws into her lap. The horror on her face was almost amusing.
“His name is Dust,” Stephen offered. “He must have used up eight of his nine lives at least, and I am confident he will find a way to wring more lives out of Death himself when the time comes.”
Leaning forward, Stephen tapped his fingertips on the desk in the hope of distracting the formidable cat away from Amelia, who almost certainly preferred dogs and was beginning to look rather cornered.
Losing interest in Amelia, Dust leaped gracefully onto the desk, winding his way expertly through the clutter toward Stephen. His purring intensified into a small roar, and he confidently rubbed his cheek against Stephen’s shoulder. Stephen absently let his fingertips rake through the dense fur atop Dust’s head.
Stroking Dust was always a tricky business. The cat had a talent for making people around him believe that he was desperate for petting and attention, only to sink his claws or teeth into an unfortunate’s hand as soon as they obliged.
Stephen found that he did not want Dust to claw at or bite Amelia. The poor woman had suffered enough already.
It is not her I wish to punish,he reminded himself.It is her brother. He is the one with the sin.
“Your father kept a study at your house?” he queried, more to dispel the silence than anything else.
Amelia’s expression tightened. “Yes. Our old house. We had to give it up when Papa died.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Papa owned it, and so there was no rent to pay. But when he died, my brother inherited it. He threw us out before the funeral even took place. He barely gave us a handful of days to find somewhere else to live. I am concerned about the rent, Your Grace.”
“Your Grace,” he huffed, shaking his head.
“Should I call you Orion instead?”
“You should call me Stephen. Don’t worry about the rent.”
Amelia blinked, something like uncertainty creeping into her expression. “I see.”
“I told you, you have nothing to fear from me. Assuming, of course, that you adhere to the rules I have put in place,” he added, his face darkening. “You shall stay here for three months. No escaping. You can go back to your old life as soon as the time is up, or until I decide to let you go, whichever comes first.”
“My work?—”
“Will be waiting for you when you return,” he promised.
There was a moment of silence after that, broken only by Dust’s determined purring. The cat had seated himself on a few spare inches of space at the edge of the desk, as if he were a third participant in the conversation.
Amelia’s eyes drifted toward the cat, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m still surprised that you would have a cat.”
Stephen lifted an eyebrow. “And why not?”
“Well, I simply didn’t think that you would care for animals at all, certainly not cats.”
“And why would I not like cats?”
She shrugged, a most unladylike gesture that would have brought a world of censure on her head if she were a member of the ton.
“I never imagined that you would be so…” she trailed off.
What was it she was going to say? Kind? Sweet? Loving?
Best not to imagine.
“I am full of surprises,” Stephen responded tightly.
