Page 12 of Whiskers and Wiles

“I shall be in attendance at Lady Ryman’s ball,” he said, smiling amiably at Lady Beata.

Both Lady Thistlewhite and Kat turned to him in shock. Kat raised her eyebrows in fierce indignation.

There was not a chance for anything further to be said, however. At that very moment, Napoleon spotted something that caused him to jerk and leap in his basket. His movements caught Kat off-guard, and before she could restrain him, the blasted cat broke through the top of the basket enclosing him and scrambled down to the grass.

In a flash, the wretched cat sprinted off after an unfortunate cluster of ducks who had been feeding by the side of the water.

“Napoleon, come back!” Kat shouted, hurrying after her cat.

Waldorf would have been perfectly content to stand where he was, grinning as Kat set her cat basket aside, hitched up her skirts a bit, and leapt after her familiar. The bloody cat had already ventured into the marshy bits of the riverbank just beside the startled ducks, and Kat was certain to make a complete mess of herself in her attempts to fetch her monster.

But Lady Thistlewhite had other ideas.

“Lord Waldorf, you must lend your assistance,” she said, watching the unfolding scene of Kat chasing Napoleon with horrified eyes. “Lady Katherine cannot wander into the mud alone.”

“She seems to be doing a fine job of it so far,” Waldorf said with a shrug.

Both of the Thistlewhite ladies looked scandalized by his nonchalance.

Waldorf cleared his throat and adopted a more serious mien. “I suppose it would only be proper to lend some assistance,” he said, starting forward.

If they were any other ladies and if he was not in such desperate need of winning Lord Thistlewhite over to the Badger’s cause, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be drawn into the farce. As it was, he marched forward with a sigh, feeling as though it were a fool’s errand to attempt to prevent a cat from chasing birds.

“Call your creature back, Lady Kat,” Waldorf called out to Kat as he drew closer, avoiding the muddy riverbank as much as he could.

Kat twisted to glare at him over her shoulder. “One cannot simply give a cat orders and expect them to follow like a dog,” she snapped.

“No,” Waldorf agreed. “Cats are nowhere near as intelligent as dogs.”

Kat laughed, picking up her skirts and dashing on when Napoleon scampered farther along the river’s edge. “You are mistaken, sir,” she said. “A cat would obey if they wished to. They are creatures who know their own mind and have no wish to obey the orders of anyone they see as inferior to them.”

“I see,” Waldorf said, happy to be combative with Kat once more. “That is why this one ignores you, then, is it?”

Kat sent him a sidelong smile as he caught up to her, but one that was full of barbs. “In this particular instance, I will agree with you, sir. Napoleon is far superior to any other creature that walks the Earth, myself included.”

An elderly woman who happened to be walking past them just then gasped in horror and hissed, “Outrageous! Traitor!” before marching on, her nose in the air.

Waldorf laughed before he could stop himself. “You must take better care in naming your familiars in future,” he admonished Kat.

“Perhaps I will name the next one ‘Waldorf’,” she said. “I do enjoy naming them after notorious villains.”

“I am certain that Waldorf would enjoy cozying up in bed with you as much as I?—”

Waldorf stopped himself in the nick of time. Any reference to the glorious parts of the past he and Kat had shared would be of no use to anyone. It was better to forget the two of them had had two lovely years together.

By the suddenly stricken look on Kat’s face, she felt the same way. It was, perhaps, a stroke of luck that Napoleon chose that moment to pounce on a frog near the side of the river. The movement distracted the cat just long enough for Kat to leap after him.

She nearly had him as well. Napoleon was more intent on keeping the frog in his mouth as it kicked and squirmed than he was on preserving himself. Kat had to step through muddy, slippery ground, however, and as she did, her feet splayed out in two directions under her. She captured the cat, but she went sprawling into the mud as she did.

“Allow me,” Waldorf said, moving in with the intention of scooping her up.

Instead of allowing him to lift her, Kat thrust Napoleon at him, as if that was the point of his assistance. The result was thatNapoleon managed to scramble free, and Waldorf slipped and was forced to plant one knee in the mud in order to avoid falling over entirely.

“Oh! Hurry!” Lady Thistlewhite called from the side. “The cat is getting away.”

“Blast and damnation,” Kat growled, muscling herself up and stumbling to make it to drier ground.

Waldorf pushed himself to follow her, and in no time, the two of them were chasing after Napoleon as if he were a prize at a summer faire. They trailed mud after them as they dodged this way and that, attempting to corner Napoleon every time he hunched down to readjust the way he held the frog in his mouth and to growl at anyone who threatened to take his prize away.

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