Page 69 of To Bed the Bride
She wanted to tell them what she’d done, but all she was able to say was, “He went to a good home, I promise. Someone loves him and will care for him.”
Everyone knew that Michael had decreed that Bruce be gone and like magic he was gone. The dog had annoyed him and the problem had been rectified. What Michael wanted, Michael always got.
Did he dispose of people that easily, too?
Surprisingly, Michael hadn’t asked about Bruce. He never commented on his absence. He’d given her an order and expected her to obey it.
She could tolerate any number of fittings, comments from Daphne, or criticism from her aunt as long as she had Wednesday. Wednesdays made the rest of the week bearable.
Although Logan said that he wouldn’t be there, each time she arrived at his house, her heart beat faster. He might change his mind today. He might come into the drawing room when she was with Bruce.
He never did.
She missed Bruce as much as she’d thought she would. Every night she looked at that spot at the end of her bed where he’d curled into a little ball and she wondered if he was doing the same in Logan’s home.
He seemed happy there, but even more important, he was safe. Logan would always provide a home for him, either here in London or in Scotland. She knew that without being told. He would never take out his anger on a defenseless animal, a point she kept coming back to time and again. What kind of man was she marrying? What did it matter if a man had a title if he had no character to accompany it?
Michael was exceedingly personable and had a great number of acquaintances. Surprisingly, they were not of the aristocracy. Instead, they seemed more sycophants than friends, congregating around him to offer him praise and compliments. Or to occasionally solicit money from him. They even did so in front of her. At first she’d been amazed, but then she realized that they considered her a nonentity. She couldn’t help but wonder if Michael felt the same way.
Her fiancé labeled people by two categories, harmless and annoying. The hangers-on were mostly harmless. Logan was considered annoying, as in,that annoying Scot. From time to time Michael asked her if she’d seen him again, making her wonder if her aunt had said something to him about the letter after all.
She always responded with her own question. “Why would you ask me that?”
He always looked irritated, enough that he didn’t realize she hadn’t answered.
Every week she took a treat to Bruce, along with a toy. It could be something as simple as a coiled and knotted rope or something she’d knitted in the evening.
Whenever she arrived, Mrs. Campbell opened the door. Seconds later she could hear Bruce running from the back of the house to greet her. On those occasions he forgot his manners completely and jumped up on her skirt, licked her hands, and was so excited that he was wriggling and whining.
“He does the same thing to himself,” Mrs. Campbell said the first week. “You would think that you two are the only people on earth for this one. I’ve never seen the like.”
Now the housekeeper smiled down at the puppy before leading the way to the parlor.
Every week it was the same. Mrs. Campbell brought a tray of tea and refreshments, even though Eleanor told the woman not to bother.
“I’ll not have anyone say that himself skimped on his hospitality,” she answered. For that reason, Eleanor always took a cup of tea and more than one of the delicious biscuits. Sometimes, she even had a slice of plum pudding. Evidently Logan liked it as well, which was why Cook often made it.
Mrs. Campbell always spent some time with her, then left her alone with Bruce. Eleanor thought it odd to be so comfortable in this parlor even without Logan here. His home was welcoming, and it wasn’t simply the furnishings or that a fire was always lit during rainy weather. It had something to do with Mrs. Campbell’s smile and that of the maid who brought the tray into the drawing room.
She realized, with a start, that the servants at her aunt’s home didn’t smile all that often. At least not around Deborah or Hamilton. The three girls who made a point of stopping by to see Bruce when he’d lived there were cheerful, but never publicly. Had Deborah issued an edict banning any sign of happiness? Was Eleanor supposed to act the same as Michael’s wife? How awful it would be to never hear the sound of laughter during the day. Or to never have someone greet her with a smile.
The hour she spent at Logan’s home was a holiday in her week, an hour of contemplation, joy, and entertainment. Bruce, despite his garrulous welcome, was learning his commands. Every week she wished things were different and he could live with her.
Once she was married in a few months she’d lose whatever small amount of freedom she had now. The Countess of Wescott couldn’t disappear for an hour or two without explanation. She’d probably have to account for every minute of her day. Would Michael expect her to justify her purchases? Would he approve or veto her friendships, too?
She felt like a prisoner knowing that she would have to soon walk into the jail of her own accord.
Family is everything.
It was becoming harder and harder to remember that.
Today the future weighed heavily on her. The weather seemed to echo her mood. On days like today she enjoyed bundling up and going for a walk. It didn’t matter if she got wet. Sometimes, she liked to feel that she was part of nature. If it thundered, even better. The sound mimicked her thoughts, chaotic and dark.
Once Mrs. Campbell and the maid left the room, closing the door behind them, Eleanor got down on the carpet in front of the fire, reaching into the satchel she brought and pulling out the new rope toy she’d brought. Bruce instantly wanted to play tug-of-war and she let him win most of the time.
Several minutes were devoted to going through all his commands to see how well he was learning everything. As busy as he was, it looked as if Logan had taken the time to continue Bruce’s training. She didn’t think that he would delegate such a task to anyone else.
“How smart you are,” she said. “Has Logan taught you whistle commands, too?”
