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“Good. Get my coat and hat. I shall follow.”
The butler hastened to obey as more steps sounded from the direction of the staircase. Was someone else coming to kick Isabel while she was down?
A small girl ran up to the stern marquess and grabbed him by his breeches. “Where did Button go?”
Button? Isabel raised a brow.
“He ran off. The door was open.” The marquess scowled at Isabel. “I shall try to go fetch him, but will you call Mrs. Ainsworth and keep our nice guest company?”
The girl frowned at Isabel and hid behind the marquess’s long legs. “Did she let Button free?”
Isabel opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted.
“Darling, you’re supposed to greet our guest and curtsy,” the marquess said softly.
“But she lost Button!” the girl protested, still not looking directly at Isabel.
“I did not lose him. He attacked me!” Isabel said, offended.
The marquess sent her a withering glance before turning back to the girl. “Button is not lost. I shall find him.”
The marquess took his coat and hat from the butler’s fingers, donned them, and turned to exit the house.
Isabel looked at the girl, who was now scowling at her. With that look on her face, she resembled the marquess immensely.
Isabel had no desire to be left in the house with a hostile little girl and a conceited old butler. Besides, that dog could be anywhere, and she could be stuck there forever.
She turned to the girl with a sweet smile. “I shall go and assist his lordship in looking for the dog,” she said as the door closed behind the marquess. “Anthea, please, wait here.”
With a nod toward her maid, she scurried out of the house.
Isabel saw the marquess disappearing in the direction of the park and hurried after him. “It is impolite to leave a guest alone in the house,” she said as she matched his step.
“You were not alone,” he answered, without even bothering to look at her.
“A five-year-old does not count as company in polite society.”
He looked at her queerly. “She is six. And since it was your fault the dog has escaped, I do not think leaving you was the worst thing I could have done.”
Isabel sputtered in indignation. Was that a threat? “How is that my fault?”
“If you hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have escaped.”
“If it had been trained properly, it wouldn’t have jumped on people and left the house at the first available opportunity. Or perhaps it was trying to escape your righteous presence.”
The marquess didn’t seem to pay attention to her words. He craned his neck, squinting into the alleyway. “He,” he said in an offhand manner.
It took Isabel a couple of moments to realize he was addressing her. “Pardon me?”
“He is a he, not an it. And he has a name. Button.”
What an inappropriate name for a monstrous dog. Isabel scoffed. “I have not been properly introduced to that dog, save for the fact that he tackled me to the floor. That does not earn one the familiarity to be called by one’s first name.”
The marquess scoffed. “It is odd to be listening to a lecture on proper decorum from a woman who tackled me at the ball and then came to a known bachelor’s home without a proper chaperone. So calling a dog by his name might not be the most scandalous thing you have ever done. Besides, he was probably just avenging my honor after what happened at the ball.”
“Firstly, spinsters do not need chaperones. And what happened at the ball is that you tackled me! And then insulted my family in what probably passes in your addled mind for a proposal. And after that, you are acting all righteous, as if I am the one in the wrong? At least your name reflects your high opinion of yourself, Lord Vain!”
The marquess threw her a withering gaze. “I might be vain, but at least it is not I who spends most of her time on the floor with her skirts tossed up.”