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Charlotte was unconvinced that the presence of the handsome farmhand with the amber eyes would be enough to placate a wary sheepdog. But the opportunity of seeing Soot with his siblings was too big a draw to ignore. As a child, she had longed for a pet of her own, had even gone as far as to sneak scraps from the kitchen in their London townhouse to put outside for the alley cats. She’d come to recognize the regulars—the limping tabby and the skittish white one—but had never been quite brave enough to allow them indoors. Her mother would have confined her to her room for weeks for breaking their house rules so flagrantly, and that would have meant the cats would have gone without food.

She stood at the barn doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. From inside, the rustle of movement in the straw and the bleat of a sheep echoed in the cavernous building.

“You said there are sheep in here,” she said. “Why are they not out in the fields with the others?”

The man walked in ahead of her. “These are the mothers with new lambs and the ones that will deliver their young very soon.”

“Oh.”

He spoke as if such things were everyday occurrences. Charlotte had never been closer to a sheep than looking at them over a hedge through a carriage window.

“Would you care to see some lambs while you are here?”

She was fairly sure that viewing newborn lambs and laboring ewes was not on her mother’s list of approved activities for young ladies. Then again, neither was foraging through underbrush to rescue puppies or leaving out food for stray cats.

“Are they close by?”

She saw his teeth glint in the semidarkness and was fairly sure he was smiling. “Look to your left.”

Charlotte turned. A lantern burned low atop the corner post of a nearby wooden pen. As she moved toward it, a plaintive bleating was echoed by another. Setting her gloved hands on the top of the gate, she peered into the small enclosure. A sheep was lying in the straw, and curled up beside her were two tiny white creatures with long, spindly legs and black noses. One of the lambs nudged the other and snuggled in closer.

“How old are they?” She did not try to hide the thrill in her voice.

“Two days,” he said. “We’ll keep them inside until they’re a little steadier on their feet, then they’ll go out to the pasture.”

“And Patch will watch out for them.”

He chuckled. “Well, she has her own little ones to care for at the moment, but we have another dog called Dex who is equally vigilant.”

“He’s in the fields now,” she guessed.

“That’s right.” He moved past the doorway to the corner of the barn. Without being prompted, she followed.

“It looks like Soot found his rightful place once more,” he said, standing aside so she could see.

A blanket lay piled on the floor. Burrowed within its folds was the large sheepdog she’d encountered outside, with four wriggling puppies climbing all over her. One of the puppies tumbled into the straw. Offering the humans no attention whatsoever, Patch nosed the little one back onto its feet, and the puppy immediately wiggled its way into the shifting pile of black and white furry bodies. It was, quite possibly, the most heartwarming sight Charlotte had ever seen, and for a few moments all she could do was watch, mesmerized by the miracle of it all.

“Patch has done remarkably well with them,” the man said, finally breaking the silence. “I’m surprised Soot made it out of the barn without her noticing.”

“She has her hands full,” Charlotte said. “What are the names of the others?”

“The one with the white nose is Lady,” he said. “She’s the only female in the litter. The other two are Wyatt and Tinker.”

She nodded, not wishing to look away. “It was good of you to show them to me.”

“It seemed only fitting that you see the wanderer back where he belonged. And should you walk this way again and come across another escapee, you now know where to return it.”

“Yes.” She glanced down, suddenly remembering her state of dress. “Although for the sake of my gowns, I should probably refrain from entering the wilderness area again.”

The benefit of being in the company of an unknown farmhand whilst covered in mud was that she need not fear that word of her misadventure with the puppy would ever reach her mother—or anyone else in London, for that matter.

It was likely that Grandmama was still resting in her bedchamber, and even if she were to learn of Charlotte’s unorthodox activities this afternoon, Charlotte felt sure she was safe. Years ago, Grandmama had caught her wrapping a piece of the fish on her dinner plate in her serviette. By unspoken agreement, she’d accompanied Charlotte to feed the alley cats that night and had kept her secret ever since. No matter her grandmother’s response to today’s adventure, however, she would rather not meet Lady Cheston, or, even worse, Lord Cheston, in her present condition.

As though he’d read her mind, the farmhand pointed to the manor just visible through the barn doors. “Do you see the door beside the large water barrel?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the servant’s entrance. If your preference is to access your rooms privately, you can enter the house there and reach the upper floors via the back staircase.”

Charlotte accepted the information gratefully.

“You have my thanks,” she said. “And now I really should go.”

He inclined his head. “Good day, Miss Densley.”

She offered him a small smile, and lifting her muddied hem a fraction of an inch, she hurried out of the barn.