Lord Sebastian's Secret (The Duke's Sons #3)(95)

“No, a dog. A puppy, really.”

“What sort of dog?”

“A mixed sort, I believe.” It hadn’t looked like any breed Robert knew.

“What’s it doing out here, then?”

“Lost, or abandoned. Perhaps something happened to its mother.”

“You ain’t going to put it in the chaise?” said the other man.

“I am,” said Robert. And suiting action to word, he climbed into the leaning vehicle and set the bundled blanket on the slanting seat beside him.

The puppy stirred and looked up at him. It was still trembling.

Robert reached out. The little dog cowered away, and Robert felt a flash of anger. What blackguard had taught this young animal to expect a blow? Moving slowly and unthreateningly, Robert rubbed the water out of its fur. Overall, it was black, a trifle shaggy, with odd stripes of brown along its sides, like tiny lightning bolts. Its ears were rather large for its size. They were pointed, but flopped over at the tips.

The puppy’s shivering abated when it was dry. It nestled into the blanket until only its nose and eyes were visible.

Robert reached into the pocket on the inside of the chaise’s door and retrieved the remains of a sandwich packed for him at their last stop. The puppy flinched at the sudden movement, and trembled at the crackle of paper as Robert unwrapped it. “It’s all right,” he said. “Or, it may be, unless you need milk. God knows where I’d find that.” He pulled a shred of beef from between the slices of bread and held it out. The puppy sniffed, but didn’t move to take it.

Robert placed the meat on the blanket. The little animal hesitated as if it couldn’t quite believe its luck, then lurched forward and snatched the beef. Teeth snapped and chewed. Perhaps the dog wasn’t as young as he’d feared, Robert thought. Perhaps it was simply small.

They continued in this fashion until all the beef was gone and most of the bread as well. The dog gained enough confidence to take the last bits from his hand. Robert completed the ruin of his handkerchief by using it to wipe off the mustard. “Better?” he said when the animal would take no more.

The dog tried to stand, as if concluding that it was time to move on now that it had eaten. All four legs shook under its tiny weight, and it fell back to the blanket, which had shifted enough for Robert to see that the little creature was a male. “No need to stir,” he said. “It’s a foul afternoon.”

Indeed, the rain was beating harder on the roof of the chaise. Robert cracked the door and asked the postilion if he wanted to join him in the carriage.

“I’ll stay with the horses,” the man replied from his refuge under the trees. “I’m used to being out in all weathers.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Certain sure, milord. Could you be sure that animal don’t befoul the coach?”

“I’ll watch him.” Robert cupped a hand in the rain, wetting his sleeve, and offered the dog a bit of water. He lapped it up, and Robert tried twice more before closing the door and sitting back, feet braced against the sideways sag of the seat.

The rain pattered above. Otherwise all was silence. Waiting was tedious. Robert hadn’t had anyone to talk to for hours, days. “What are you doing so far from a farm or village?” he asked the dog.

Wary brown eyes watched him.

“I expect it’s a sad story, and you’d rather not think about it,” Robert went on. “I don’t suppose you know Salbridge Great Hall? I’m on my way to a house party there.”

One of the dog’s ears twitched.

“No, I hadn’t heard of it either. But I understand that it’s the showplace of its district.”

The dog shifted in the blanket.

“Well, that’s what Salbridge said. It’s true we are speaking of Northumberland. The standards may be lower.” Robert gazed out at the sodden landscape. “I’ve never been so far north. I begin to see Randolph’s point.”

His companion made an odd sound, something like a gargle.

“Randolph is my brother. One of my brothers. He lives up here. I thought that an added inducement when the Salbridges urged me to come. I can’t think why just now.”

A gust of wind rocked the carriage on its springs. The dog nestled deeper into the blanket.

“Precisely,” said Robert. “But when friends beg for support one must rally ’round. I’m to lend luster to their gathering.”

The small dog cocked his head.

Robert smiled down at him. “I assure you that luster is one of my gifts. Hostesses count themselves lucky to have me. They, er, vie for my favor. Unlike…but I’m not thinking of her. I’ve given up thinking of her. I’m going back where I belong.”

The small dog’s gaze had become unnervingly steady. It held no threat that Robert could see. He would have said, rather, that it was speculative, philosophical. Would have, if the idea hadn’t been ridiculous.

“I like helping people enjoy themselves,” he added in the face of that unwavering regard. “I’m good at it.” And if he didn’t feel quite as convivial as usual, Robert thought, well, he would soon recover his high spirits.

The dog curled up and went to sleep. Robert made himself as comfortable as he could on the tilted seat. And together, they waited.

Just under two hours from the time of the accident, a vehicle came trundling up the road. Robert’s dire predictions were fulfilled when he saw the second postilion at the reins of a rough farm cart, with two thick wheels digging into the mud and a tattered canvas cover over the back.