Page 29 of To Bed the Bride
He still ate as though he was starving, which meant that she sometimes fed him at noon in addition to mornings and evenings. It didn’t seem possible, but he’d grown in the past dozen days. His paws were just as large, but he seemed longer and something was happening to his tail. It was growing increasingly fluffy.
“What are you going to do about it?” Jeremy asked now.
“As long as the dog’s not a problem I don’t see that there’s anything I need to do about it,” her aunt answered.
“I don’t want a dog in the house,” he said.
“That really isn’t your concern. This isn’t your house. When you have your own establishment you can dictate the rules.”
Eleanor could just imagine Jeremy’s expression at that comment. Her cousin had completed his education, but had not yet settled into an occupation. Her aunt’s husband had offered Jeremy at least three separate positions in one of his companies, but Jeremy was still “mulling over his options.” However, he had not yet moved out of his stepfather’s house and was supported in all ways by Hamilton Richards.
She might have considered him spoiled, but for one thing. Her aunt was not overly maternal to her son. When she spoke to him—or about him—she did so in a distracted, almost offhand manner.
Daphne, however, was a different matter. Daphne might be married, with her own establishment, but she was often here. It wasn’t a rare sight to see Daphne taking tea with her mother or even being here for breakfast. As far as Deborah was concerned, Daphne was a perfect being. From the very beginning of her season Deborah believed that her daughter’s ethereal beauty would capture a title. For that reason Deborah spent a fortune on new clothes, a dancing master, even a French teacher to make Daphne seem more polished and cosmopolitan, the perfect wife for a duke or an earl.
As a child Eleanor had often imagined what her mother might’ve been like if she hadn’t died in childbirth. A common tragedy, she’d been told when she was old enough to get the correct answer as to why she didn’t have a mother. She’d told herself that it was foolish to wish for something she’d never had, especially since she was lucky enough to have warm and tender memories of her father. As a little girl she’d often perched on top of his shoulders as they walked from the house to the stable complex. Her first memories of him were punctuated by his laughter. People liked Archie Craig.
In that way her Uncle William had been like his older brother. He’d been a gentle man, one with a soft voice and a retiring manner. She often found it difficult to believe that he had attracted the lively Deborah.
Hamilton Richards seemed more her aunt’s type of partner. His voice was loud, his character boisterous. He commanded rather than asked. She couldn’t imagine Hamilton ever pleading for anything, even Deborah’s hand in marriage. Their union had been a surprise to everyone; they’d only been back in London a matter of months before her aunt announced the upcoming nuptials.
Her cousins had been ecstatic to move into the mammoth townhouse in a fashionable square. As for Eleanor, she hadn’t cared. She’d trailed along, almost as an afterthought. It was only at Hearthmere that she felt she belonged.
“She’s fixated on that dog, Mother. It nearly bit me the other day.”
Bruce did no such thing. Jeremy was exaggerating again.
She really needed to step out and announce herself. Bruce had not, thankfully, found anything to bark at, although Jeremy wasn’t one of his favorite people. When Jeremy had returned from Edinburgh, the puppy had greeted him by lifting his leg and relieving himself on Jeremy’s shoe. She’d been so startled that she hadn’t apologized to her cousin. Then, the look on his face had been so amusing that she’d burst into laughter. He’d been angry ever since.
“But you won’t do that again, will you?” she whispered to Bruce. He licked her chin again in agreement.
She’d made the decision to take a Hearthmere carriage to London because she hadn’t wanted to spend all that time with Jeremy sulking or glowering at her. She hadn’t sent Liam home yet. The driver had expressed a wish to see a bit of London, so both he and the carriage would remain here for a little while. Thankfully, Hamilton hadn’t objected.
Eleanor backed out of the butler’s pantry, nodding to several of the maids who knew quite well that she’d been eavesdropping. The servants in London had a rigid hierarchy and considered themselves better than most people, including their employers. She had the feeling, however, that they occasionally commiserated with her. Aunt Deborah could be fearsome in her expectations. When any one of the servants failed to meet her standards, she didn’t hesitate to dress them down wherever she found them. Consequently, the entire household was privy to her irritation.
Now Eleanor slipped out the side door to the back of the house, past the square of lawn, and into the alley. Only then did she put Bruce down on the ground, making sure that his lead was secure.
She’d heard Hamilton say once that he’d purchased the property because of the park. A short distance away from the back door was a wrought iron gate. She lifted the latch and entered, Bruce following eagerly.
This area of Queen’s Park was secluded and, for the most part, private. Because Queen’s Park had no statuary, lakes, or buildings—unlike Kensington Gardens or Hyde Park—it was rarely crowded. People chose other places to walk or ride. Eleanor preferred the magnificent, fully grown trees and wide gravel paths here.
Even in the midst of a sunny day, the canopy of branches overhead shaded the area. When it was drizzling it was still pleasant, the leaves sheltering her and creating almost an intimate and shadowed space.
Yesterday was the first time she’d brought the puppy here, but Bruce already seemed to anticipate the outing. Queen’s Park had always been a respite from her London life and it looked like Bruce felt the same.
After consulting her watch, she found her favorite iron bench and sat, allowing the lead to play out a little. In less than an hour she was meeting with Michael. He’d asked to call on her today, the visit their first since Eleanor had returned from Scotland.
She and Bruce went through their training. She had a few pieces of liver one of the maids had slipped her earlier wrapped in a handkerchief in her pocket. In Scotland Norma had told her how important it was for dogs to be trained. Having no prior experience she’d taken the maid’s word for it and had learned what she needed to teach him.
When he sat, she praised him and gave him a piece of liver. Standing, she walked to the other side of the path, watching as he obeyed the command to stay. The one she thought was most important, however, was a command for him to come to her. Otherwise, she’d never be able to let him off his lead.
She dropped the lead, took four steps away, and said, “Come.”
He came to sit in front of her, a fluffy ball of fur with large paws and a strange-looking tail. She could swear he smiled at her when she bent down and gave him another piece of liver.
They practiced for another fifteen minutes. When the liver was gone they walked down the wide road for another few minutes, Bruce investigating the grass, the gravel, and the falling leaves. Finally, when there was no more time to spare, she led him back through the gate.
Bruce seemed as reluctant as she to head to the townhouse. She reassured him that they’d return later, just before it got dark. For now she had to talk to her fiancé.
