That idea had merit, but she couldn’t think beyond the fleeting thought as she dashed down the street and turned a corner, barely avoiding a man pushing a cart of potatoes.
“Watch where you’re going!” the man shouted.
“Sorry!” she called over her shoulder before surging out of the alley and onto another street.
Isobel kept running until breathing got hard to do. When she finally stopped, the dam holding back her tears finally broke, hot tracks making their way down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands as the first strangled sob escaped.
And then there was a little bark.
Sniffling, she lifted her head and wiped her tears, gathering her composure. Years of learning to control her emotions in front of Father had prepared her to shut down at a moment’s notice. As she exhaled, something brushed lightly against her skirts. She looked down.
At her feet was a puppy, its tail wagging, pink tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. She cooed to the creature, her heart swelling.
Isobel stopped and picked up the little chocolate-colored dog, cradling it close and rubbing its head between its floppy ears. “Does nobody want you either?”
The puppy leaned into her, the soft fuzz of its head resting against her neck. She smiled and cradled the dog close. Perhaps they could get through the storm that was her life together and then she would never have to be alone again.
Isobel hummed to the puppy, rocking back and forth slightly, trying to soothe herself and the small creature. She suspected it had been a hard day for both. Even with a dog to commiserate the burning down of her life, her new companion brought only a small amount of comfort. Lord knew what would be waiting for her when she returned home.
Father certainly wasn’t going to forget this, and with two weeks left until ruination, he would try to marry her off to whomever might have enough money to help the family. He would lie about the dowry until the moment the couple stood at the altar, and then whatever man he had made a victim found out, it would be too late.
Or I could be jilted again. I could be known as the woman who walks down the aisle one way, and sprints down it the other.
A carriage rolled to a stop close to them, a tall man getting out and looking around.
“There you are, Darling.” The man’s eyes, a blue that reminded her of the sky on a summer day, landed on Isobel. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Is he here to take me away from this place? Is this the miracle I’ve been praying for my entire life?
Though it would be magical to have a stranger whisk her away in his carriage and take her to a life better than the one she was living, the man in front of her was still a man. She had never known them to be helpful, and certainly not when she needed it most.
“Excuse me,” Isobel said, taking a step back as the man sauntered toward her. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
The corner of the man’s mouth tipped up, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “I hope this feral creature hasn’t disturbed you.”
Isobel recoiled. How could he speak that way about a puppy? It was nothing more than an innocent little dog. The creature had done no wrong in the world, and it was hardly feral as it licked her jaw.
“What is wrong with you?” Isobel took another step back, wanting distance between herself and the man.
His gaze locked on hers, the slight smile falling. “What kind of question is that to ask a complete stranger? Especially when youlook as if you were a wild cat being chased through the woods. Beautiful, but ferocious all the same.”
“You best hold your tongue!” Isobel shook her head, holding the puppy close. “Do you speak to all ladies this way?”
“Wouldn’t you enjoy the truth?” His tone took a teasing note. “I, for one, happen to be quite the enjoyer of wild cats. I find them fascinating, even when they are windswept and flushed.”
Isobel put a hand up to her hair, feeling the strands coming loose from the braided chignon containing her curls. Some strands had been styled loosely around her face, but the tresses she felt at the nape of her neck had escaped the coiffure her maid spent too much time styling that morning.
“You’re a rude man.”
He snorted. “And you’re not exactly a paragon of manners yourself, my lady.”
“A moment ago, I was your ‘darling.’ How very fickle you are,” she scoffed, tipping her chin at him, silently daring him to charm his way out of it.
Laughing, he shook his head. “You thoughtyouwere the darling? No. The dog’s name is Darling, though if you would like to be my darling as well, I would be pleased to call you such.”
If the puppy is Darling… then that makes me…
“So, I’m the feral creature?” Isobel’s jaw dropped. “I am the feral creature when you’re the one who tells a random woman she looks like a wild cat?”
