Page 24 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

Lord Blackthorn made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh. "My cook, who once chased a footman with a cleaver for stealing tarts, has been conquered by a dog with a criminal record?"

"It would appear so, my lord."

"The estate is doomed."

"Quite possibly, my lord."

There was something in the way they spoke to each other, formal but with an undertone of genuine affection, that made Arabella revise her assessment of Lord Blackthorn's isolation. He might keep society at bay, but clearly he'd maintained relationships within his household.

"Perhaps," Arabella suggested, "we could establish some rules for Thistle. A treaty of sorts between the kitchen and him."

"You want to negotiate with a dog?" Lord Blackthorn asked.

"I want to negotiate on behalf of the dog. There's a difference."

"Is there? It seems equally futile."

As if to prove his point, Thistle had wandered over to the tea service and was eyeing the sandwiches with intent.

"No," Arabella said firmly.

Thistle looked at her, then at the sandwiches, then back at her, clearly weighing his options.

"I mean it."

He sighed dramatically and flopped down on the carpet with the air of a dog most terribly wronged by the cruelties of the world.

"Remarkable," Lord Blackthorn said. "He actually listened."

"He's not entirely uncivilized. Just... selectively civilized."

"Like his mistress?"

"Did you just compare me to my dog?"

"Would you prefer I compare you to my ancestors?" He gestured toward the window, where another portrait was visible just next to it. "That's the fifth Earl. He supposedly kept three mistresses and died when one of them pushed him down the stairs."

"How did they know which one?"

"They didn't. All three claimed credit."

"Your family history is colourful."

"That's one word for it." He paused, then added more quietly, "you might find it lonely here. The nearest neighbours are five miles away, and I don't... I don't often entertain."

"Often?"

"Ever."

"So I'm to be a hermit's wife?"

"You knew what I was when you agreed to this." His tone had cooled considerably.

"I knew you were reclusive. I didn't know you were completely isolated."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes. Reclusive suggests choice. Isolated suggests... I don't know. Something sadder."