Page 39 of Wagers of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society 3)

“It’s quite easy—”

“Demeter likes dogs.”

Ashford scowled. “I do not see what that has to do with anything.”

Blake couldn’t quite explain either but all he knew was he could not leave this dog on the streets. “I’m taking him home,” he said firmly.

Ashford stared at him for a few moments then shook his head. “You are out of your wits, Blake. Utterly and completely out of your wits.”

He didn’t argue. It might well be true.

Chapter Sixteen

There had been many a day when Demeter found herself guilty of picturing Blake walking toward her. Though never actually here, in London. And never with a dog cradled in his arms. Either that kiss was playing tricks on her mind or he was indeed strolling past the park with a scruffy dog tucked against his jacket.

She slowed her pace, glanced at the carriage awaiting her, and turned sharply the other way. Mr. Bay was likely reading his newspaper and wouldn’t notice she had veered off her usual walking route around the park. She suspected the man reported back to Anton on her and Eleanor’s movements sometimes but given neither she nor Eleanor were the most sociable of creatures. The driver and his groom would not have much to report to her stuffy brother as they escorted her about London.

Besides, what is the worst he could say? Lady Demeter was seen briefly conversing with a known rake? She’d visited his house only recently—that was far more likely to draw attention—but it had been entirely necessary.

As was seeing him now. With this dog.

She frowned to herself and shrugged as she stepped through the wrought iron gates at the entrance to the park. Fine. Perhaps it was not necessary, but should she not check if he needed aid? Maybe the creature was injured and that was why Blake carried him. What sort of an awful person would deny an injured animal aid?

Not her, to be certain.

A smile pulled at his lips when he spotted her. He walked with his friend Ashford, who always struck her as charming in a more subtle way to Blake. Tall, well-built, with a permanently amused smile upon his lips, he reminded her of what she imagined a Greek God to look like. All golden hair and angular lines.

Lord Ashford was not as overtly rakish as Blake but there was no doubting between the pair of them, they had broken many a heart. Today, however, his smile looked more bemused than amused when they came to a stop in front of her.

“The poor dear,” she cooed. “What is wrong with him? Is he injured?” She ran a hand over the bedraggled dog and the animal closed his eyes in contentment. “He’s a lovely dog.”

“He’s a mutt,” said Ashford.

“He has breeding,” she countered. “He just needs a wash.”

“I found him not far from here,” Blake told her, jerking his head down the road. “I’m taking him home.”

The dog licked her hand tentatively. “He’s lovely. Is he well?”

“Apart from starved, he seems fine.”

“Poor, poor dear.” She fussed the dog some more, smiling when he butted her hand when she stopped. “He was definitely someone’s once.”

“That’s what I said.”

Blake threw a look at Ashford who shrugged and muttered, “He’s flea-ridden.”

“I think he’ll look lovely once he’s cleaned up. Just be sure to have him bathed in lemon and rosemary. That will get rid of any fleas.”

“And burn your jacket. And your trousers,” Ashford muttered. “And never come near me again.”

Blake ignored his friend. “I thought he could be yours.”

“M-mine?” She blinked a few times, looked to Ashford who had a resigned expression, then to Blake and finally the dog. “I cannot have a dog remember? Aunt Sarah would never allow it.”

“Well, he can stay at my house but he can be officially yours. You can visit whenever you wish and I shall bring him to the park for walks with you.”

Swinging her gaze between the two men and the dog, Demeter fought to find a response. Her throat tightened and tears burned the back of her eyes, clouding her vision. She couldn’t cry, not in front of these two. Not over a dog.

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