Page 28 of To Steal a Duchess

But as she entered the woodland, she slowed.

A small yip cut through the trees, and she pressed her ride’s flank, urging her horse onward. She followed that noise. It wasn’t a pained noise, but one of acknowledgement, perhaps.

Soon, Eloise came to a thicket of brush, where a fluffy, brown tail was peeking out from particularly tangled greenery. She dismounted at once, her curiosity flaring.

“Where are you?” she asked in a gentle voice, her smile appearing when the tail began to wag rather quickly at her voice. “I only wish to help.”

She knelt, uncaring that her day dress was getting some dry mud on it, and craned her neck to see through the brambles. She blinked in surprise as she beheld a puppy, tiny and slender, curled up on the floor, its warm, brown eyes already set on her.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Are you lost, darling?”

That fluffy tail thumped against the ground, and Eloise dared to reach a hand into the foliage to stroke its back. It didn’t cringe back in fear, nor hunch, but rather seemed to move into her touch. Floppy ears pricked a little at her voice, and Eloise found herself smiling wider.

Her fingers wandered higher, even as she struggled to reach, finding no collar on the poor thing.

Pulling back, she looked around, but saw nobody—no footprints, no broken twigs to suggest any owners had lost their dog—and she heard no voices in the near or far distance. There were no other dogs that answered her call when she pitched her voice louder, trying to find something to suggest she might be able to find the puppy’s home.

“You poor thing, you’re so thin,” she noted, kneeling back down to pet the pup’s head, finding its fur soft but not as silky as it ought to be. It was an English Water spaniel, she realized, noting its shape and how its ears looked. “Perhaps I can bring you in for some water and food?”

The dog’s ears pricked further, its tongue lolling, as though it was agreeing.

“Does that sound good?” Eloise asked it, making her voice soft and higher pitched. The dog’s tail beat against the ground, and it moved closer. Edging out, Eloise coaxed it out alongside her, beckoning it with her hands. “Come on now. There we go, don’t be scared.”

At the sight of her horse, the dog paused, but Eloise stood to pet her horse’s neck, showing the puppy that there was no harm to be found.

“See? She is friendly too. Will you let me pick you up?” She tested her question, her hands reaching carefully for its body.

The dog let her scoop him up, for she realized he was a male dog, and she nestled him in her arms, pressing a slight kiss to his fuzzy head.

“There we go. Come on,” she muttered.

In no time at all, she was back on her horse, awkwardly trying to balance handling the reins as well as the puppy, but the horse knew where to take her. The estate appeared sooner than she expected, and mercifully, Eloise noticed that the duke’s carriage still wasn’t where it was usually stationed.

She left her horse in the stables, and continued to hold the puppy in her arms as she went inside the mansion.

Halfway down the main hall, she found Mrs. Hale, whose eyes widened at the sight of both the mud on her skirts and the dog in her arms.

“Mrs. Hale!” Eloise called out, hurrying over to the housekeeper. “I happened upon this poor creature while out for a ride. I do not suppose you know if there are any nearby estates that may have lost him?”

Mrs. Hale recovered from her surprise quickly, but couldn’t quite tear her gaze from the puppy to Eloise. “Not that I have heard of, Your Grace. There have been no posters put up, either. Did you see any advertisements in the village for a lost dog?”

Eloise shook her head. “None whatsoever.”

“Then perhaps he is just a stray,” the housekeeper mused. “A puppy that was abandoned, maybe? A runt of its litter?”

Eloise’s brows puckered, and her heart sank for him. She petted him gently, her fingernails scratching behind his ears. The dog gave a soft sigh, nuzzling further into the crook of her elbow, and she smiled fondly.

“Then I shall keep it,” she decided. “I am in need of a companion, after all. And I cannot bear the thought of leaving him out there alone in the woods. Who knows where he could end up? I’d hate for him to wander on his own by the cliffs.” She paused. “Do we have any spare meat cuttings for him?”

“I’m certain I can ask the cook, Your Grace.” Before the housekeeper could turn away properly, she eyed Eloise warily. “His Grace, though⁠—”

“I shall handle that.” Eloise hugged her new pet close to her chest. “He cannot expect me to live in solitude for my entire life. I shall have my companion.”

Mrs. Hale nodded, still wary, but hurried down the hallway toward the kitchen entrance. Eloise laughed quietly, lifting the puppy up so they were face to face. Surprisingly, he let her nuzzle her nose against its own velvety one.

“What shall I name you, hm?” Eloise asked, and the dog’s head fell to the side slightly as if in thought, too. “It seems I now have two creatures to name. But you…”

She smiled, thinking of when she was younger. She had begged her parents for a dog or a cat, even. The last time she had asked before giving up, she had been eating—in an admittedly unladylike manner—pickles right from a jar. She had hoped the sour taste would chase away her insistence and desire for a friend in such a lonely household as Wittby House had been.