Page 36 of His One and Only Lady

Rather like his master.

Purity nearly stumbled at the intrusive thought. Other than his kindness last night, Mr. Rutland had been a boorish clod to her.

Don’t forget the almost kiss.

“What is his name?” Purity asked, still shaken at her wayward musing.

“White Flame.”

“What a perfect name.”

A gentle breeze teased her straw bonnet’s white ribbons. She’d opted not to wear her spencer. Even her gown felt a bit cloying already, and the day was young.

“I helped Papa name him,” Bernadine said proudly. “He’s orange like a fire. But his tail and mane are white. Fire can be white sometimes.”

“What a clever, creative little girl!”

A smile of pure joy blossomed across Bernadine’s face.

She gestured for Purity to bend near. Upon doing so, the child threw her arms around Purity’s neck and hugged her fiercely.

“I hope my papa marries you.”

Oh dear.

Fearful the other adults had earwigged on the whispered declaration, Purity glanced up and froze.

Oh, my God.

Her lungs ceased to function, and she struggled in vain to draw a breath.

There stood Theran Rutland, and from the darkening of his inscrutable gaze to midnight blue and the thinning of his mouth, he had heard every word.

~ *~

Mottford Hall Stables

Fifteen minutes later

Arms folded and grateful for the cool interior of the stables, Theran rested his shoulder against the stall’s planked wall. Today promised to be a scorcher, and he looked forward to the boat race. It was always cooler on the water. A swim afterward might be in order, too, though that wasn’t on the official list of activities for the house party.

Too bad he hadn’t thought to procure a swimming costume for Bernadine. He could’ve begun her swimming lessons. Unable to prevent the half-smile stretching his mouth, he regarded his entranced daughter.

At first demonstrating typical maternal protective behavior, once the Dalmatian realized there was no threat to her puppies, Preta settled onto her side. Emitting little squeals and whines, the ten pups wriggled and rooted about until they seized a teat, then nursed feverishly.

Little piglets.

Remarkably well behaved, the children sat quietly in a circle, legs crossed, and waited their turn to pet one of the three-week-old puppies. Bernadine’s face shone with happiness as she cooed and whispered to the tiny pup. Every now and again, she glanced toward the other puppies, her attention always focusing on the smallest one.

Theran made eye contact with Enos—the head groom—and covertly handed him a yellow ribbon.

“The runt,” Theran said.

Enos grunted his understanding.

Theran had already asked his aunt and uncle if Bernadine might have a pup. They readily agreed, as he’d known they would. Two kinder people he’d never known. His mother, Melvelia’s sister, had a stubborn streak his aunt lacked.

Aunt Melvelia had procured a length of ribbon from her sewing basket. “Have Enos tie it around the puppy’s neck to identify it as Bernadine’s,” she advised.