The little girl giggled.
When the little boy went to pet Lover Boy, his sister snapped at him. “This one’s mine.”
“And this is yours.” Dot placed Fur Blossom on the lad’s lap. His little hands immediately began to stroke the cat’s soft hair. “Her name is Fur Blossom,” Dot said in a softened voice.
“That’s a silly name,” the little girl said. Then she eyed her brother and slowly pronounced the word “Kitty” in an attempt to extend his vocabulary while she went to pet the animal.
“Mine!” he said.
Dot could see he’d learned at least one word.
“Children, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Pankhurst’s daughter, Miss Pankhurst,” their grandmother said. Turning to Dot, she placed a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “This is my granddaughter Joy.” Then she settled a gentle hand on the little boy’s dark hair. “This is my grandson we still call Little Gregory.”
“He certainly resembles his father. How old is he?”
“Fifteen months.”
“I daresay that’s still a baby,” Mr. Pankhurst said.
Dot directed her attention at the little girl. “And how old are you, Joy?”
“Four and a half.”
Before Dot left to find Nellie, she observed that her father had removed his feet from the stool and sat erect. He looked far more vibrant.
“I’ve one more cat to fetch,” Dot said. “I cannot vouch for how long these cats will behave themselves. Perhaps with four from which to choose we can manage two on decent behavior.”
When she returned with Nellie, her father and Mrs. Blankenship scarcely noticed. They were deep in conversation.
It occurred to Dot they were not very far apart in age. Blanks was the same age as Forrester—thirty. But now that she thought about it, hadn’t someone said something about this woman being Blanks’ stepmother? Yet she was old enough to have a son who was married to a woman in their circle. So she had to be close to Dot’s father’s age.
This lady did look exceedingly handsome for a woman in her mid-forties. She had far fewer gray hairs in her dark brown hair than Dot’s father, and she had not gone to fat. And, like all those Dot had mingled with since she’d been in Bath, this woman dressed in excellent taste.
While Dot played with the children and the cats, she pondered her father. Had the isolation back at Blandings contributed to his malaise? Judging from the lively way he was conversing with this woman, he must have missed being around people of his own age and background.
Coming to Bath had been the best thing they had ever done. For her father—and especially for Dot.
Now she needed to integrate him into the city’s social activities.
Mrs. Blankenship tossed a glance at the assemblage of cats. “My but you have several—and they’re all vastly different.”
Dot nodded. As much as she loved others to admire her cats, she needed to be a better hostess.
Fur Blossom suddenly leapt from Baby Gregory’s lap, and the tot attempted to run after her.
Dot disturbed the sleeping Nellie. “Here, Gregory. Why don’t you make friends with this kitty? Come sit on the floor.” She patted the floor.
He came and plopped down on the Turkey carpet in front of the hearth, and Dot placed Nellie on his lap. She kept her hand there a moment, stroking the cat in the hopes of keeping Nellie from abandoning the little boy.
“What’s that cat’s name?” Joy asked.
“This is Nellie.”
Joy picked up Lover Boy and hugged him. “So they’re all girls except my Lover Boy?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you get to sleep with your kitties?” Joy asked.
Dot nodded.
“I wish I had a kitty,” little Joy said in a forlorn voice. “In the country, we are permitted to have dogs, but they live outdoors.”
“Have you ever asked for a kitty?”
Joy shrugged. “I’m going to go home and ask for one today. I think I’ll ask Papa. He never tells me no.”
Dot laughed to herself. That tall, handsome Gregory “Blanks” Blankenship was easily commanded by his tiny, adored four-year-old daughter.
She felt a fluttering in her breast. Would Forrester ever be similarly smitten over a daughter Dot might one day bear him? The very notion turned her insides to porridge.
The children played with the cats for another ten minutes before their grandmother stood. First she turned to Dot. “I neglected to offer felicitations on your forthcoming nuptials to Lord Appleton. What a wonderful match it is for both of you. I was very happy to learn of it from Glee after she attended the musical.”
“Thank you,” Dot said. “I’m rather happy myself.”
“We need to go now, children, but perhaps Mr. and Miss Pankhurst will permit us to come again?” Mrs. Blankenship eyed Dot’s father.
“It will be our pleasure,” he said. He then stood and walked them to the door without the slightest sign of a limp.
Once they were gone, Dot took up the afternoon’s edition of the Bath Chronicle and returned to the drawing room to sit before the window and read it where the light was best. Lover Boy came to curl up in her lap.
Her father, too, came to sit near her, his customary glass of brandy in his hand. “I found the Blankenship children to be well behaved.”
She nodded. “I wish my kitties behaved as nicely.”
“Mrs. Blankenship is a most handsome woman. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Dot set down her newspaper and regarded her father. This was the first time in her life he had ever taken notice of a woman’s appearance. “I certainly would. In fact, I’m surprised some widower has not snatched her up. It’s my understanding she’s been widowed for a few years.”
“Yes, she told me her late husband has been gone for six years.”
“It seemed to me the two of you did not want for conversation.”
“Indeed. She’s remarkably easy to talk to. It’s as if I’ve known her for quite some time, like we’re old friends.”
“I daresay it’s because you have a great deal in common.”
“I believe you’re right, but then you always are.”
“The
