“Of course not,” he said, and her heart slowed from a hammering rate. “This is her outdoor collar, so those are merely glass.”
“That makes sense,” she said. What person in his right mind would have a cat collar worth a fortune?“How foolish of me!”
“Naturally, I leave her jeweled collar in my room in case she ever slips away from me.”
She stared again at Miss Sylvia as the cat attempted to capture a small grasshopper on the grass beside her, and Greer took a step sideways to give her more leeway. Pouncing, she had the bug under her paws in a flash.
Beatrice shook her head. “You mean she truly does have a collar with diamonds and rubies and whatnot?”
When he laughed, she realized he was joking. “My mother spoiled this cat, but that would be beyond the pale.”
Beatrice nodded. “Besides, that type of spoiling is for the owner, not the animal.”
“I cannot argue. Miss Sylvia would prefer to have sardines over sapphires.” Greer looked at her bag. “What are you doing in our little square?” he asked, taking another few steps onto the grass as Miss Sylvia tugged him along.
Beatrice picked up her bag, left the path, and followed him. “I believe you are responsible for why I am here.”
“Really?” he asked, but he had a twinkle in his eyes.
“Did you request the Langham Hotel carry our confectionery?”
“I am considered a long-term resident now. They want to keep me happy. They brought fresh fish for Miss Sylvia the other day. The least they can do is provide decent confectionery to their guests.”
“Mother is making them pay for samples,” she told him.
“Good. They can well afford it.”
They both looked back at the cat, who was now at the base of a tree and, by her hunched manner and half-closed eyes, doing her private business. They made eye contact and grinned at the absurdity of taking a cat for a walk. She relished how much good humor they shared.
“Twice a day, I’m out here with her,” he said. “Although if it’s pouring rain, I put her face to the window, and you should feel the little beast recoil. Then she’ll use torn newspapers in a box in my bathroom. She protests, but she’ll use it.”
“You seem quite the expert pet owner, Mr. Carson.”
He shrugged. “Now that she has completed her task, we’ll walk back with you.”
“Very well.” Beatrice watched as he pulled on the leash. At first, the cat seemed to plant her paws and refuse to move, making Beatrice chuckle again, but then Miss Sylvia began to walk in the proper direction. It was slow going and at times very fast going if the cat suddenly gave chase to a stray butterfly or a leaf.
“Why do they call this circular park a square?” Greer asked.
Beatrice opened her mouth to answer when a dog appeared at the entrance to the park. A moment later, she realized it, too, was on a leash.
Miss Sylvia, however, knew nothing of the sort and began to hiss and pull in the opposite direction. In the blink of an eye, Greer scooped up the cat and tucked her under his arm despite her struggling and her little legs scrabbling against his coat.
He does have a soft heart, she thought,and cares for that cat.It made her own heart glad. The dog and its owner passed without incident, and they crossed the street diagonally to enter the hotel by one of its back doors.
“I ought to meet with themaître d’hôtelby myself,” she said. “Since you already told them you wanted our chocolate, I think it would be a bit suspicious if you were beside me when I deliver the samples. They might think you have a special interest in our success.”
“As you wish,” he said. “Also, while they tolerate Miss Sylvia, they don’t want me roaming the halls with her in case she does anything nasty on their Persian rugs.” He gave her a small bow, looking her directly in the eyes as he did. Something about him lately never failed to make her stomach do a little flip of excitement.
“Good luck,” he said. “I’m certain they’ll love everything you’ve brought and place many large orders.”
“Thank you,” she said, but neither of them moved. She reached out to stroke Miss Sylvia’s head again. “If it happens as you say, my mother will be pleased to have a steady customer like the Langham.”
“Not to mention all the guests who will want to take confectionery home with them. They’ll taste it while staying in London and then dash over to New Bond Street to have Miss Charlotte pack them a tin.”
She smiled at him. “They’ll dash over, will they? They’ll probably at the very least take a cab.”
“Make sure the hotel manager agrees to your shop name being associated with every last sweet. I’ve met many Europeans in the dining room and even a few Americans, and I’m positive lots of important people stay here all the time, some dripping with wealth.”
