a leash might be more effective than that cord, though.’
Sophie shook herself and tumbled into embarrassed speech. ‘I know, but Aunt Minnie doesn’t believe in going out of doors and refuses to buy leashes. It is quite sad because it’s clear he needs exercise. Look at the poor thing.’
They all glanced down at Marmaduke, who was now seated, as solid as a small boulder, his pink tongue hanging out of his mock grin, and the man’s hard, uncompromising face relaxed into a faint smile. A very nice smile, Sophie thought, surprised by its transforming effect, and the sensation of being set apart increased.
‘I am not sure he qualifies as a poor thing in my book. He looks about as indulged as humanly possible. Is Aunt Minnie by any chance Lady Minerva Huntley?’
‘Yes, do you know her?’
The couple glanced at each other and there was an easy, laughing communication in the glance that connected them and Sophie thought, with a twinge of uncharacteristic envy, that they must be a very loving couple.
‘Not really,’ the woman answered. ‘She doesn’t go out much any more. But we used to see her often when we were children and before Lord Huntley passed away. She was always very grand. Are you staying with her?’
‘Yes. I’m her niece and her latest pet.’
The lady’s grey eyes sparkled with laughter.
‘Pet?’
Sophie flushed in embarrassment at her slip. She was letting her embarrassment tumble her into just the kind of informal talk that sent her parents cringing.
‘That’s awful of me, isn’t it? She is really being...considerate, in her way. Well, thank you again, I should return Marmaduke before we are missed. Good day.’
She smiled and turned in the direction of Huntley House, tugging at the leash, but Marmaduke had apparently expended all his energy for the day and merely allowed himself to be dragged a few inches. There was a moment of awkward silence and heat licked up Sophie’s cheeks as she bent down to scoop him up.
‘You are a master of contrariness, Duke. That innocent gaze doesn’t deceive me in the least!’ she informed him and with a last nod towards the couple, which she hoped was at least a facsimile of dignity, she headed towards Huntley House, closing her eyes briefly as she realised just how ridiculous she must have appeared to that beautiful, elegant couple. No doubt they were laughing at her behind her back. It was lucky her parents weren’t there to see how predictably she had put her foot in it in her first interaction with human beings outside Aunt Minnie’s domain. Well, she was unlikely to ever see them again. She tucked Marmaduke more closely to her, comforted by his rapid panting. At least she had done some good today, even if only to a pug.
Max watched the young woman until she disappeared into the entrance of Number Forty-Eight and then glanced down at his sister with the remnants of amusement in his eyes.
‘That proves it. Madness is clearly heritable, Hetty.’
His sister laughed again and shook her head as they turned and continued heading eastwards towards Brook Street.
‘Nonsense, Max, I doubt that girl or Lady Huntley are any madder than I. Lady Huntley has just given herself over to the enjoyment of being a famous recluse and eccentric. From what I gather from my maid she is kept fully up to date on all London gossip. And that young woman is probably just bored to tears and happy to talk with anyone if she is the latest of Lady Huntley’s relatives commandeered to attend to her. Really, that woman seems to have more cousins and indigent relatives than anyone I have ever seen. Even with her fortune, if she ever does have to divide it up among them, there won’t be more than a pittance apiece.’
‘Perhaps this latest helpmate is hopeful Mad Minnie’s canines will win her exclusivity on the Huntley fortune. She certainly seems quite happy conversing with that...dog, if you can even call it that. She almost had me convinced he knew what she was talking about.’
‘You are such a cynic, Max. I don’t doubt I’d be reduced to talking to the dogs if I had to spend more than a day in there. I heard Lady Huntley sometimes doesn’t speak to these relations at all, just sends them commands through her butler. And once she sent one of them away on the night mail with only twenty minutes’ warning! I can’t imagine what would happen to that poor child if she lost Mad Minnie’s favourite pug.’
‘She’d probably find herself locked in the cellars, or worse. But I would think she would be grateful to be evicted, even if it is by the night-mail coach. And she’s hardly a child. I would say twenty-three or four.’
Hetty snorted in a very unladylike manner. ‘Of course I wouldn’t dispute the verdict of the connoisseur of all things female. Are you certain you cannot fix the date more accurately? Or wasn’t she beautiful enough to merit that degree of examination?’
‘Don’t be snide, Hetty. She was tolerable, but I don’t favour pert little country misses, not even ones of her undisputed originality. Far too tiring.’
Hetty sighed.
‘You don’t favour anyone, Max dear. Please try and be a bit more positive when we reach Lady Carmichael. She and Lady Penny won’t know what to do with your biting comments. Do behave!’
Max stopped himself from uttering just such a comment about his sister’s current offering for potential spouse. He should really learn to reserve judgement. After all, he had only spoken to Lady Penny once, at a very tedious evening at Almack’s, and he should hardly be surprised if all she had to say for herself was a sampling of the same inanities which young women felt were expected of them in such occasions. And to be fair, she did appear to be, as Hetty pointed out, a pretty, sweet and modest young woman from an excellent family. She would do very well as Duchess of Harcourt and mother of his heirs. And if she really was too boring, Hetty had promised she had three other candidates in mind.
And most of all he should show Hetty some gratitude for being willing to help him fulfil his highly regretted but inescapable promise. The thought of going through the forest of debutantes and potentially marriageable women on his own was more daunting than any military campaign he had ever undertaken. He would almost be willing to face Napoleon again rather than an endless row of Wednesday evenings at Almack’s. And that meant he needed Hetty’s help. She had been by far the most socially adept of his five sisters and until her marriage six years ago she had known everyone who was anyone in the upper ten thousand of London.
‘That is twice I’ve been called to heel today, Hetty. Have pity,’ he replied with a rueful smile.
She chuckled.
‘That was funny! And she did manage to bring a Duke to heel even if it was only you and not the pug. If I ever feel the need to take you down a peg, I shall share that story with your friends. Everyone takes you far too seriously.’
‘If you do, I might be forced to remember some of your more embarrassing escapades from our childhood,’ Max warned. ‘That was bad enough, but to liken that fur ball to Napoleon on St Helena is carrying eccentricity too far. That peculiar girl obviously has no town sense to be talking to strangers like that. She’ll get into trouble.’
Hetty waited until they had crossed Mount Street before replying.
