Page 7
A first, and he didn’t like the sensation.
Her guileless attention swung to her dog.
“Ah, I see you’ve met Mr. Wiggles. He’s quite a love.”
Whining, the animal stood as she approached, shaking his scraggly tail furiously.
In that instant, Chester made a decision and dispensed with etiquette.
Discipline and vigilance, his conscience upbraided. Vigilance and discipline.
Bugger off, he silently retorted.
Nothing and no one had intrigued him or piqued his interest as much as this imp in a goodly while.
“If it wouldn’t be a terrible inconvenience, may I prevail upon you for a ride?” He flashed her a smile designed to liquefy steel. He didn’t normally bother with such calculated drivel, but something about the enigmatic Miss Eden was causing him to cast off his usual reticence.
Her soft, kissable mouth slackened in surprise at his brazen request.
“My horse has injured his foot, and I fear bearing my weight will lame him. Benjamin said you live near Perygrim Park.”
“For certain you wouldn’t want to injure him further.”
She approached the horse, and cooing softly, let him catch her scent.
Which, Chester recalled, smelled wonderfully of roses and lilies. Lucky beast.
She ran her petite palm down his neck.
“I’m going to take your master home, but he’ll be back to get you in a day or two. All right? I’ll send an apple with him for you. Would you like that?”
It mattered naught whether Magnus adored or despised the fruit, for now Chester had an excuse to see this enchanting creature again.
Peony tilted her ears back and whickered.
As she angled toward the cart, Miss Haverden chuckled, and an answering bubbling rose in his chest at the musical, mirth-filled sound.
“No need to be jealous, Peony. You can have an apple, too. As if I don’t give you one every day.”
Before he could offer his assistance, she dropped her baskets in the wagon bed and deftly climbed into the seat, revealing a trim calf in the process. At once, Mr. Wiggles clambered to her side, and she kissed his forehead whilst scratching his scruffy ears.
She cocked her head and indicated the remaining bench.
“My lord, if you please. The sun is setting, and with the mucky road, it will take at least five and forty minutes to reach Perygrim Park.”
“You know the way?”
He settled himself on the seat, feeling oddly chastised, and Mr. Wiggles thumped his tail once in a cautious greeting.
“I do, though I’ve never actually been as far as the manor house itself.”
Clucking her tongue, she shook the ribbons once.
“Walk on, Peony.”
The horse swished her ebony tail, then with a groan and creak, the cart lurched forward. For a few minutes, only the clattering of the wheels and the clopping of Peony’s hooves broke the companionable silence.
Staring straight ahead, Miss Haverden skillfully maneuvered the wagon along the busy street. Every now and again, a villager raised their hand, and she waved in return. Many more stopped and stared as the dogcart rattled past, their avid curiosity evident.
