Page 32 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“That sounds sensible, yes. I think I would like a dog like that.”

“A guard dog wouldn’t be a bad idea with everything going on,” Bellchurch added as he mulled over her specifications, talking as much to himself as to her. “Not a bad idea at all.”

“What about the Fenton dogs, Mr. Bellchurch?” Todd asked. “The old man is going to live with his daughter in Scotland and plans to pass on all three of his dogs. Maybe one of them would meet Her Grace’s requirements? They all grew up with cats, and they’re a lively bunch who could easily keep pace with a lady.”

“Yes, it might be worth a visit to Sir Anthony Fenton,” Bellchurch agreed. “You should probably meet the dogs and see if any of them are to your liking, Your Grace. He’s on the neighboring estate to the south of Redbridge. They are certainly very lively animals…”

Sensing something unspoken in their description of the dogs, Catherine asked, “How does this liveliness manifest itself?”

Bellchurch snorted.

“Well, the Reverend Grayson definitely won’t have them in church,” Todd confided. “Sir Anthony hasn’t attended a service since his wife was buried ten years ago, God rest her soul. They like to bark along with the hymns, you see, and even do thehandshake for the passing of the peace. It was too much for the Reverend when one of them went up for holy communion.”

Catherine giggled at the thought of these entertaining yet undisciplined dogs, already wanting to bring one of them back to Redbridge Hall to be her companion.

“They think they’re human, that’s the trouble,” Bellchurch continued. “It’s nothing really sacrilegious. Sir Anthony has them sitting at the table with him for dinner and in his bedroom at night. They even answer the door with his butler. But if a new owner made it clear to them that they’re dogs, not people, I’m sure they’d settle down properly quick enough.”

“That sounds very well to me. But I must arrange to meet these dogs and Sir Anthony. Does he live alone, at present?”

It was a serious question that could be a stumbling block in Catherine’s plan. Her husband had made it clear that he saw no reason to bear her company and had told her to do as she wished. But she could hardly go call on widowers alone, especially when they had not yet been introduced.

“He has been living alone since his wife died,” Bellchurch confirmed. “But his daughter is visiting presently until he is ready to leave with her for Scotland.”

“Then I must call on them as soon as I can,” Catherine said, relieved. “If I write a message, do you think one of your men could take it over to their house?”

“I’d be happy to take your message and put it in his hand,” Todd offered. “I’d like the chance to pay Sir Anthony my respects before he leaves. He has been a good neighbor and a well-liked gentleman among the locals . Not a noble like His Grace, of course, but a true gentleman.”

“Perfect, I shall write a note immediately, and you can collect it from the hallway when you’re ready, Todd. Good day to you both.”

Cheered by the idea that she would soon have an animal companion, Catherine made her way back to Redbridge Hall.

“Thank you both for seeing me at such short notice. I do appreciate your time—Oh!”

In the hallway of Sir Anthony Fenton’s house, Catherine suddenly found herself looking into the curious eyes of a quizzical Great Dane, his paws up on her shoulders.

“Good day to you, too,” she offered, startled but accustomed to dogs and detecting no aggression in the animal’s eyes.

“Down, Castor! Let Her Grace into the drawing room. And you, Pollux! Out of the way, now. You can both speak to Her Grace like civilized people once she sits down and has a cup of tea. Why don’t you take a leaf out of your sister’s book and follow me quietly?”

Mrs. Dora McNamara, Sir Anthony’s daughter, rolled her blue eyes at her father’s reprimand and put a hand on Catherine’s elbow to steer her around the dogs. Her rosy cheeks dimpled, and her expression was full of mirth as she smiled.

The two Great Danes seemed to pay attention to their master and had stopped their snuffling and good-tempered woofing at the recently arrived guest. A third dog, a rather fetching Irish Setter with a glossy red coat and superior manner, trotted ahead of her “brothers” into the drawing room at Sir Anthony’s heels.

“When I was a girl, we had six dogs here. Can you imagine?” Mrs. McNamara whispered while they were still behind the door. “But we already have three of our own, and four children, too, at our house in Edinburgh. There isn’t room for more, and it’s better to find new homes for these three.”

Catherine smiled back at the dark-haired woman and walked into the drawing room. “I’ve only ever had one dog,” she commented. “But these three do seem to have kept Sir Anthony very good company.”

“They certainly have,” the jolly old man agreed, now seated comfortably in a battered old chair near the fireplace, a piece of furniture that stood in distinct contrast to the upholstered sofa and polished walnut coffee table in the center of the room.

All three dogs curled up at Sir Anthony’s feet despite their size, and he sighed contentedly as he regarded them.

“You’ve had no real trouble with any of your dogs, have you?” Mrs. McNamara asked her father as a maid brought in a tea tray and set it on the table.

A second maid followed, bearing a tray with three named bowls on top, which she proceeded to set on the floor near the hearth. Each bowl was filled with meat and some sort of dog biscuit. One of the dogs raised his head and watched with interest as the first maid laid a plate with slices of fruit cake on the coffee table.

“No trouble at all,” Sir Anthony declared with a contented sigh. “Although Pollux will always try to have his pudding before he has eaten his dinner. No, Pollux, you must eat your meat, and then I might give you some cake. There’s no point in looking at me like that. I mean what I say.”

“How old are they?” Catherine asked.

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