And she was as lovely as ever.
He’d debated leaving for Chadwicke in an attempt to get his wits about him. He couldn’t go on like this forever. His behavior was beginning to worry him, to some extent.
Why her? Of all the women in the world, why was he so preoccupied with thoughts of Elizabeth Scott? She may have had a naturally beautiful, captivating quality about her, but that sharp tongue of hers was less than wholesome. In the improbable event he ever did see her again, she’d be more likely to use that sensual mouth to hurl a string of insults at him than what he had in mind.
That prospect brought with it a surge of arousal that confounded him even further. What he needed was rest. Some relaxation, time with the dogs, a good night’s sleep. Then he’d be good as new.
He nodded to no one but himself. Donovan Darcy was going to skive off, and he intended to do a right good job of it.
He took a final spot of tea, pushed himself out of his leather chair and stepped over the wire walls of Figgy’s whelping pen. She scrambled into his lap when he sank down cross-legged on the floor, leaving her pups confused and searching for their mum as best they could with their eyes not yet open. They stood on wobbly legs, stumbling here and there until they began mewing like kittens.
“Your babies are looking for you,” Donovan whispered in Figgy’s ear.
Her eyes grew wide, even wider than usual, which was significant considering Cavaliers had such big, round eyes to begin with. Her furry brow creased with worry as she eyed her pups.
“Go tend to them. I’ll be here all day.” He picked her up and set her back down on the fresh, clean bed in the center of the pen.
She kept her gaze fixed on him as all the puppies, save one, found their way back to her. The wayward pup squealed her displeasure as she nudged her little pink nose against the bumper of the dog bed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you a hand, love.” With great care, Donovan plucked the puppy off the ground and gathered her into his palms.
He turned her so she faced him. Her muzzle and nose were bald and pink as bubble gum. It would take a week or so for her nose to begin the transition to black. She had a perfectly proportioned white blaze down the center of her face, framed on either side by rich chestnut. Best of all, she had a much-coveted Blenheim spot square in the center of her little head. Donovan ran his thumb gently over the spot and, as he did so, noticed something unusual.
He narrowed his gaze at the pup’s face and turned her toward the light, just to be sure. “Well, would you look at that?”
Beneath her right eye, halfway to her nose, there they were...a tiny cluster of peach-colored specks. He wiped at them to make sure they wouldn’t disappear. They didn’t, naturally.
“Would you look at that?” Donovan repeated and laughed in wonder. “I’ve bred a puppy with freckles.”
It was a rarity, both in his breeding lines as well as in puppies of such a young age. That he could see the spots at all when she was only a few days old guaranteed they would be most visible later on.
Oh, the irony.
If this had happened weeks ago, he would have made arrangements to place the puppy in a pet home as soon as she was old enough to leave her mum. Chadwicke Cavaliers were in high demand, whether pet or show quality. Donovan had a waiting list of pet homes as long as his arm.
Things were somehow different now. He couldn’t say why, but this was the puppy he would keep even though the rest of them were picture-perfect. All he saw when he looked at those faint hints of freckles were Miss Scott and the little dog she loved so much. For some nonsensical reason, Donovan wanted to hold on to that memory. What was it he had compared her complexion to?
A pastry dusted with sugar and spice.
A dessert.
He brought the pup closer and tucked her against his cheek. “I think I’ll call you Pudding.”
Pudding squirmed against his face, her coat soft as down feathers. Donovan set her back down beside her mum, and the worry lines on Figgy’s brow instantly smoothed away.
Donovan took in a deep breath as he watched the dogs. He felt better already. He climbed out of the whelping pen and went off in search of Finneus. A walk was in order.
After he secured Finneus in his harness and gave Lawrence strict instructions to tell any and all callers—especially Aunt Constance and, God forbid, Helena Robson—he was out for the day, Donovan headed outside. He glanced across the way at the window where he could have sworn he’d seen Miss Scott the night before. The drapes were open, revealing nothing but an empty room. No winsome beauty gazing out at him like a princess in a tower.
He shook his head and cursed at himself for even bothering to check.
Finneus jerked on the end of his lead, bringing Donovan back to the present. For that, Donovan was grateful. He let the dog lead the way and followed him toward the bakery on the corner, since that was where he seemed to be headed.
They’d only taken a few steps when Finneus strained harder in his harness. The leash grew taut, and Donovan was forced to tighten his grip. “Settle down, boy.”
Donovan looked up and saw a pack of dogs heading in their direction. Finneus was doing his best to get to them, as if they were his long-lost family. One of the dogs was a Cavalier, but the others were Border terriers. Four of them. Donovan followed the tangle of their leashes up toward the woman at the other end, and his heart stopped.
Elizabeth Scott.
So he hadn’t gone mad, after all. She was here. In London. On his very street.
He brought Finneus to a halt and waited for her to meet his gaze. She didn’t so much as glance at him but stayed focused on her quintet of dogs, untangling the multitude of leashes as she went.
The instant she spotted Finneus, Elizabeth’s face lit up. Her cheeks glowed with the warmth of exercise and her obvious excitement at spotting another Cavalier. She picked up her pace and, to Donovan’s great pleasure, headed straight toward him.
A wry smile came to his lips as she dropped to her knees at his feet. He couldn’t help it. Elizabeth Scott...on her knees in front of him.
Finneus planted his paws on her shoulders and licked her cheek. Joy was written all over Elizabeth’s face. Donovan dreaded the moment she realized it was him, for surely her delighted expression would turn to one of revulsion.
He cleared his throat. There was no sense in postponing the inevitable. “Miss Scott, what a pleasure.”
She flew to her feet in an instant. Her mouth formed a round O of surprise, drawing Donovan’s attention to her perfect pink lips.
They stood there eyeing one another as they had the night before. It had been real, not a fantasy. Donovan smiled in remembrance and watched as Elizabeth’s cheeks filled with color. He waited for those exquisite lips to turn down in a frown.
They didn’t.
Instead, Elizabeth Scott narrowed her gaze, as if looking at him for the first time.
She said one simple word. “You.”
