hurried into the hall and into her pelisse and bonnet. Snowball, who recognised these signs of human behaviour as the prelude to going for a walk, ran around and around in circles, almost tripping the Duke when he came into the hallway himself.
‘Here, Snowball,’ said Sofia, bending down to scoop her dog up into her arms. ‘You do not mind me bringing her along, do you?’ Belatedly, she considered that the Duke might not like to have an animal of such dubious heritage perched up on the lap of the lady he was about to parade about the lanes in his curricle. A lady, moreover, who was sporting a rather spectacular black eye.
The Duke looked at the wriggling bundle of fluff in Sofia’s arms, then looked into her face, as though his thoughts were following the same path her own had just wandered down. ‘Not at all,’ he said with chilling politeness. ‘Though would the creature not prefer to take a walk? With a footman?’
‘Oh, I shall take Snowball out again later for exercise,’ she said, airily ignoring his hint. ‘This carriage ride is just an extra treat for her. She absolutely loves carriage rides.’
‘Indeed,’ he said drily, eyeing Babbage in such a way that the butler went and opened the front door for them to exit.
‘Oh, yes, you should have seen her during our trip here,’ she said, making her way down the front steps. ‘She kept her nose to the door the entire time, breathing in all the smells wafting in with her eyes half-shut as though she was in some sort of doggy heaven.’
‘Hmmph. Dogs do tend to experience life through their noses,’ he conceded as he handed her up on to the seat of the curricle. As he went around to the other side to climb in, Sofia put Snowball down right in the middle of the bench seat. The Duke paused in the act of taking his own seat and raised his left eyebrow.
‘So this little bundle of fluff is in reality the chaperon I took such pains to exclude from our outing.’
‘A girl cannot be too careful with her reputation,’ she said, parroting one of her aunt’s most frequent homilies.
‘I have a groom to stand up behind, naturally. However,’ he said, settling into the seat and taking the reins, ‘you are to be commended for not attempting to take advantage of the situation.’
‘Take advantage? Whatever do you mean?’
‘Most females in your position,’ he said, nodding to the groom to let go of the horses’ heads, ‘would be trying to take hold of my arm under the pretence of being afraid of the motion of the vehicle.’
‘We haven’t set out yet,’ she said, as he flicked the reins and set it in motion. ‘That is,’ she hastily amended as the groom leapt nimbly up behind, ‘there is a little rail here by my side which I can hang on to should you prove to be a careless driver.’
Sofia could tell the Duke did not like the implication that she might dislike the manner of his driving by the way his jaw clenched, but fortunately before either of them could pursue that topic any further, Snowball caught sight of a cat sitting on the window ledge of one of the houses they were passing and let out a loud bark.
‘Hush, Snowball,’ said Sofia, tapping the dog’s nose firmly with two fingers to reinforce the command.
The Duke snorted. ‘You cannot expect any self-respecting dog not to bark at a cat.’
‘On the contrary. I have trained Snowball to be silent when required.’ She’d had to. Aunt Agnes had at first objected so strongly to having the animal in the house that she’d spent hours and hours training her dog into total obedience. ‘Now that I have given the command she will not bark again until I give her leave, I promise you.’
‘A remarkable animal, then,’ he said, glancing down at Snowball. ‘A good deal of poodle in the family, I take it?’
‘Yes, I think so. I have to have her trimmed regularly or she becomes completely circular in appearance. Like a snowball on legs, in fact.’
‘Ah, hence the name.’
‘No, when she was a pup, she just looked like a little furry snowball. And it was Christmas. The name just came to me.’
‘Her tail has the look of a spaniel, though.’
‘Yes, her mother was definitely a spaniel. It was the father who...’
Oh, lord, why had she never seen it before? That was why Jack had given her the puppy. Because she was of mixed breed. It had been a cruel joke, referencing Sofia’s own background.
Was that why Aunt Agnes had been so cross with him? It certainly explained why her aunt had not shown any great aversion to Snowball after those first few fraught minutes when she’d scolded Jack for being so thoughtless. Why she’d never once threatened to have the dog destroyed, or sold, no matter how many times Sofia had returned from walks dripping wet or covered in mud. She’d scolded her, yes. Said she despaired of ever making a Proper Lady of her. But never, ever threatened to part her from the pet she’d fallen in love with at first sight.
In rather the same way she’d fallen for Jack.
And later, when he’d told her that he’d taken one look at Springer’s latest litter and thought of her, she’d assumed he’d meant that he’d noticed how lonely and out of place she still felt in England and had wanted to give her something of her very own, to love her and be with her always.
But all the time he’d been making fun of her mixed parentage.
How...beastly of him. How cruel.
And how stupid of her not to have seen it.
The Duke cleared his throat. ‘I did not bring you out here to talk about dogs, however.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said, distractedly running her fingers over Snowball’s crest. In spite of suddenly understanding what Jack had meant the dog to be, she loved her just the same. Snowball was loyal and loving, obedient and clever. ‘Good girl, Snowball,’ she said.
‘Are you feeling quite well? You seem a little distracted.’
Well, it wasn’t every day a girl was on the receiving end of such an epiphany. Not that she was going to let it have the devastating effect upon her that the last one she’d had about Jack had done. No, for this was more in the nature of a deepening of a truth she’d already learned.
That Jack was a vile, vile person. And not the romantic hero of her girlish dreams. At all. Oh, yes, he might have told his sisters not to be so beastly to her whenever he caught them out in some petty act of spite. But she’d been mistaken in thinking his motives were the slightest bit chivalrous. It was far more to do with how much he disliked them.
‘Miss Underwood?’
‘Oh, I beg your pardon. I was wool-gathering.’ On receipt of this admission, the Duke’s lips thinned and his ferocious brows drew down until they almost met one another over the great beak of his nose. Clearly he did not appreciate women wool-gathering when he’d done them the signal honour of taking them up in his curricle. And that after casting aspersions upon his prowess as a driver! ‘That is, I was wondering how best to answer your question, without...that is, I hardly know you.’
‘I do not wish to hear any details of your ailments,’ he snapped.
