“You are correct, Louisa. I do have a much better notion of the law, and I can tell you there is no law in existence which prohibits a man from doing what he did!'
“Well, there ought to be!” She was seated with her back to the fire; the combination of yellow gown, red coals and vibrant hair conspired to build a glow around her. Her indignation was magnificent.
Charles imagined he could feel heat emanating from her, which warmed him, even as her next words tried his patience.
“I am sure you will want to introduce a bill to that effect.'
The puppy had awakened while they talked and now came to beg for food from the table. Louisa cut a piece of ham into tidbits and started to place it before the dog.
“Louisa, if that dog is to be mine, I would be grateful if you would refrain from teaching her bad habits!'
She went on as if he had not spoken. “Nonsense, Charles. Since when does one occasion constitute a habit?'
“Are you quite recovered now, little one?” she said, addressing the puppy. “We should think of a name for her, don't you think?'
Charles groaned. “Have the good grace, please, to let me name her, Louisa. I will not have a dog with some foolish name chosen by a sentimental female.'
Louisa glanced up, surprised. “Do you think me sentimental, Charles? I assure you I am nothing if not practical. The name Eliza had struck me as a possibility, but if you prefer another, by all means, go ahead and choose one.'
Charles had not given a moment's thought to naming the dog; but now it became a matter of honour to choose one. He groped for a name a man could call his dog without being laughed at for it.
“Juno is a good name.'
Louisa glanced at the dog and hid a smile. “Why, of course. Juno-how forceful! Why, just looking at this creature brings to mind the wife of Jupiter! I am struck by the similarity!'
Then she giggled, for the puppy in its efforts to sit up and beg had fallen over on its back. It was still so young that it sat with its legs splayed off to one side-a distinctly ungoddesslike pose.
Charles swallowed the retort he had begun to make, and then swallowed his pride, as well.
“Oh, very well, then. She will be Eliza. But from now on, Louisa, the dog is mine, and I shall be the one to govern her conduct!'
Louisa dimpled at him and returned to her meal. He thought the subject had been dropped, but then she said, “Perhaps this whole incident can be regarded as fortunate, for now you will have Eliza to remind you of those measures you plan to introduce before the Lords.'
Charles refused to be baited into a lengthier discussion-one that he was bound to lose, in any case. He knew better by now than to try to explain to Louisa how the introduction of any such bill would make him a laughing-stock before his colleagues. She never stopped to think about how others would regard her actions.
Charles took that back-she knew perfectly well what others thought and disregarded it all the same. But when cruelty to other humans was so rampant, how could she expect the government to legislate the protection of animals?
He changed the subject and told her they must stay another day with the Spadgers because of the Sabbath. Louisa seemed not at all distressed by the news, though she did have the grace to express her concern for his inconvenience.
As she was bidding him good-night, however, she added in a tone filled with wisdom, “Though I daresay, Charles, you will benefit from another day of rest.'
She held out her hand to him and her voice took on a delicate note. “You will remember to take Eliza outdoors, will you not? And if she sleeps in your chamber, you'll be certain to hear if she needs any such attention during the night.'
With these tactful suggestions, she left Charles standing at the bottom of the stairs, once again wishing he could throttle her.
Chapter Five
The night was cold and clear, promising a fine day on the morrow. If it were not for the chill, it might have been peaceful to look out upon the deserted village. As it was, Charles could only think of the warmth inside, and of Louisa, who was undoubtedly settled in bed with a warming pan and a mound of down-filled covers to make her cosy.
He shivered resentfully and looked up at a display of stars, then down at Eliza seated in the snow at his feet.
The puppy was trembling, too, and looking up as if to ask him why he was subjecting her to this horrid cold. She seemed perfectly willing to oblige him, if only he could explain just what was required of her.
Charles sighed. Then, saving his anger for Louisa, he gave Eliza a friendly word of encouragement. He found himself praising her beyond what was warranted, but it wouldn't hurt, he reasoned, to let her know how to please him.
The dog seemed willing to obey him, quite unlike her rescuer. It almost seemed, at times, to be poor strategy to let Louisa know what he wanted from her. Once she knew, she was almost bound to do the opposite. And if it were not for that contrariness, Charles reminded himself, he would not be outside, suffering from the cold this very minute.
Louisa somehow contrived to elicit whatever performance she wished out of Charles, something which made him question his sanity. Would anyone else he knew presume to instruct him-even with such delicacy as Louisa had displayed-to walk the dog before he retired to bed? His mother had made it a practice to discourage him from entering into any pursuit she deemed unworthy of him. He had become so accustomed to being spared such tasks that he had almost forgotten they existed. And yet, here he was, running the risk of contracting a chill, and performing a task so menial as to be insulting.
Charles had often prided himself on the fact that he did not stand upon his dignity as a marquess. Now he realized it seldom happened that anyone dared to trespass on that dignity. Perhaps that was the reason for his bizarre behaviour now.
Shock had robbed him of good sense. But he could not, he told himself firmly, let himself be continuously inveigled by a girl who had so little notion of propriety.
He resolved that, henceforth, Jim Spadger would be put in charge of taking the puppy out.
In the meantime, however,
The puppy stumbled, then took a few tentative steps, lifting and shaking each paw as if the damp were offensive to her. Then, with something like a sigh of forlorn hope, she finally lowered her haunches and produced what was wanted.
“Good girl! Good girl!” Charles scooped her up as quickly as possible and headed back into the inn at a fast pace.
Eliza, who could not have been more surprised at her success, licked him all over the face.
Charles was highly gratified by this evidence of the dog's intelligence and of her good intentions. He muttered a wish that Louisa could be so easily governed.
It was the wound to his dignity then, provoked by Louisa, and not a lack of charity with the puppy, that caused Charles to retire in a resentful state of mind. He allowed the dog to sleep on one of his boots near the hearth, which would have scandalized his valet if he had known; but Charles had seen the wistful look she had given the bed.
“My apologies, Eliza,” he said, reaching down to give her a pat. “But the floor will be quite good enough for you!'
