Page 45 of The Duke's Pet

Chapter Ten

Jemima sat for whatfelt like hours in front of the fireplace. She’d eaten everything he’d given her, drunk tea that he’d poured when the mantel clock had struck twelve, and then curled up on her side for a sleep. She thought of the little pheasants again—how would she get one in her pocket if she were naked?

Occasionally the duke added another log to the fire, or he swirled brushes in water as though cleaning them vigorously, but mainly he was quiet and studious as he painted at his easel.

Jemima fiddled with her tail; it seemed to be made of wool, though it was crinkled as if from a curly-haired sheep, a species she wasn’t familiar with. It had been dyed a pretty color, a scarf or sweater would be nice made of it, but a tail attached to a plug in her behind... that she wasn’t so sure.

Did Mrs. Cook create this? And if so, did she know what it would be used for?

That thought made Jemima’s skin heat. Playing at being a little kitten with only the duke to see her humiliation was something she’d have to bear. But to have other people knowing about it, she didn’t like that, not one bit, and she wasn’t sure if she could live with it. Her secret was safe with the duke, because surely he wouldn’t want anyone else to know his quirky desires, but if others knew... if word got out.

I’d die of shame.

She glanced over at him. He was handsome and dapper in his smart clothes though he did now have a streak of green paint on his chin that had also sneaked onto his cravat. Did he care that his treatment of her was odd? Perhaps he didn’t think it was. He’d justified it after all, by saying he could handle losing a pet but not losing a woman, and she was going to leave him in exactly six days.

Six days that couldn’t pass soon enough.

Her eyes began to feel heavy, and after adjusting her position on the seat she closed them and allowed herself to drift. The room was warm, the ticking of the clock soothing, and she was enjoying the softness of the cushions.

Her dreams took her to another time, when her mother was with her and she found herself smiling at her and holding her hand.

“Little kitten, wake up.”

“Mmm?” She opened her eyes. “What is it...?” It took a moment for her to remember where she was and for her brain to wake. It wasn’t her mother’s face, but the duke’s hovering before her. “Sir.”

“You were dreaming.”

She nodded and held in a yawn. “Did I disturb you?”

“No.” He stroked her hair. “Not at all.” His smile was indulgent, as though he was truly fond of her, and had enjoyed seeing her resting.

A small part of her softened and she almost forgave him for the tail in her rear.

“We will go outside now, for some fresh air. It is not good to go a full day without a few lungfuls.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious.

“Come.”

She frowned and any thoughts of letting him off the hook about her tail evaporated. “I can’t possibly go outside. What if someone sees me like this?” She gestured to her face and then flicked her tail.

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