brute.’
‘Then go back without it,’ Caroline said. ‘Touch it again and I shall have you beaten!’
‘Yeah? How yer gonna do that, then?’ the youth asked, squaring up to her. He lifted his fist as if he would strike her, only to have his arm caught in an iron grip. Looking up, his face turned white beneath the dirt and his eyes darted to Caroline in fear. ‘Call him off, miss. I weren’t gonna hurt yer.’
‘No, you certainly were not,’ Caroline said, head up, eyes glittering. ‘For I should have hit you with my parasol. Let him go, sir.’ She addressed Freddie in a tone of command. ‘He may run back to his master and say what he will. This poor thing shall not be tortured again.’ Turning her back on them as though neither were of the least importance, she did not notice Sir Freddie give the youth a sharp clip of the ear before sending him off. Caroline was on her knees beside the puppy, stroking its head softly as it whimpered and shrank away from her hand. ‘Oh, you poor little thing. He has hurt you so, but he shan’t do it again—no one shall, I promise you.’
‘The creature may well have fleas as well as broken bones.’
Caroline turned to look up at Freddie. ‘The fleas are a matter of indifference to me, and may soon be cured with a warm bath—the broken bones are a different thing. He must be looked at by someone who understands these things and then…’ She faltered, for she had suddenly remembered that she was a guest in her aunt’s house. Lady Taunton would not welcome a bedraggled puppy in her home. ‘He is not the prettiest dog, perhaps, but he deserves to be cared for, do you not think so?’
Freddie bent down and picked the puppy up carefully. He ran gentle hands over its quivering body, but, though it whimpered at first, it seemed to quieten at his touch.
‘I believe he likes you,’ Caroline said. ‘Do you think—?’
‘Oh, no,’ Freddie said instantly. ‘I do not wish to be saddled with a mongrel—and he most certainly has fleas.’
‘I was going to ask only if you could direct me to a place where I can arrange for him to be cared for until I can claim him. I can pay for his keep and when…when I go home he shall come with me.’ Her eyes were bright and filled with unconscious appeal that placed him on his mettle. Freddie struggled and lost. She saw it in his eyes and gave him a dazzling smile. ‘I promise I shall claim him as soon as I can.’
‘Very well,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I shall take charge of the wretched thing—but only until you can find a home for it. I have several dogs at home and they would make mincemeat of the creature. It can go to my stables. The grooms will know what to do for it.’
‘You are generous, sir. I am grateful.’
‘The dog remains your responsibility,’ Freddie said gruffly, for something in her look had touched him. ‘You should be aware that your dress has become stained, Miss Holbrook—and I would advise you not to throw yourself down from a carriage so precipitously in future. George was about to move on and you might have been injured.’
‘What can that signify?’ Caroline asked with a toss of her head. She bent her head to kiss the puppy’s neck. ‘Please take care of him, won’t you?’
‘I have never neglected any animal,’ Freddie said a trifle haughtily. ‘I do not think you need fear for this one.’
‘No, of course not. And thank you for your assistance, though there was no need. I should have hit him if he had tried to attack me.’ Her eyes flashed defiantly.
‘Next time I shall remember,’ Freddie said, a flicker of amusement in his face. ‘I think you should go now, Miss Holbrook. George’s horses begin to fret.’
‘Oh, yes, I had forgot,’ Caroline said and flushed. ‘I did not mean to sound ungracious—thank you.’
She ran towards the waiting curricle and was handed up by George while his groom held the now impatient horses.
‘You know you owe your good fortune to her, don’t you?’ Freddie murmured, scratching the puppy behind its ear. It had now settled in his arms and he was inclined to optimism about its condition. Painfully thin, it had obviously been starved, but with some good food and care… ‘Ridiculous!’ he said aloud, causing a passing lady to stare at him. ‘I do not know who is the greater fool.’
Freddie stood watching as his friend drove on by with a wave of his hand. The girl was an original, there was no doubt of it. She would either become the latest rage or fall foul of some sharp tongues. It would be interesting to watch her progress.
He was not likely to be caught in her toils though, he told himself. She was lovely, intelligent and lively, and it seemed that she was both brave and compassionate, but he was not in the market for a wife. Though Miss Holbrook had certainly enlivened what had looked like being a damned dull Season before her arrival. He tipped his hat to a passing acquaintance, deciding to visit the club of a certain pugilist he favoured after he had handed the puppy to his groom. He was feeling oddly restless and in need of some exercise before he kept his appointment with George later that afternoon.
Tom Holbrook frowned over the letter from his grandfather. He had not been expecting it, but he was not averse to visiting the old gentleman. He had never been afraid of Bollingbrook, as some of his cousins were, though he had thought it wise to hold his tongue. The Marquis had a volatile temper, and had never hidden his dislike of Tom’s mother.
Left to his own pursuits with nothing but a pile of debts to keep him company, Tom had been thinking that he might take a trip to town and visit his mother and sister. It would not bother him to make a small detour to visit his grandfather. The Marquis had said there was a matter of business to discuss, which did not sound promising. It was quite likely he was to be taken to task for putting up a part of the Holbrook estate for sale, but there was little else he could do in the circumstances. Tom had been forced to sell or risk losing everything, for his father had made some foolish investments.
He instructed his valet to put up a travelling bag for him and send his trunk on, and then had his groom bring round his curricle.
Within three hours of receiving the letter from his grandfather he was walking into Bollingbrook Place. It was an old house, but both the building and grounds were immaculately kept, which Tom knew must be expensive. The estate was clearly flourishing. Tom had not given much consideration to it in the past, but now he wondered where his grandfather’s money came from.
‘Master Tom, it’s good to see you, sir,’ Jenkins said. He had just come into the hall as the footman opened the door and smiled his approval at the young man. ‘Milord wasn’t sure you would answer his call, but I thought you might—and here you are.’
‘Of course I came,’ Tom said. ‘He threw Mama out with instructions never to darken his door again, but I was pretty sure that he didn’t mean it. How is he, Jenkins? The gout playing him up as usual?’
‘His lordship is in some pain,’ the valet told him, ‘but not as bad this morning as it has been for the past few days. I try to keep him from his port, but you know how it is, sir.’ Jenkins sighed heavily, his long face wearing an expression of extreme martyrdom.
‘I do indeed,’ Tom answered and grinned; he knew the man had much to bear, but he also knew that nothing would prise him from the Marquis’ side. ‘May I go up and see him, do you think? His letter sounded important.’
‘I believe it would do him good to have company, sir. He dwells too much on the past when he is alone.’
‘I’ll go up, then,’ Tom said and nodded to Jenkins as he ran up the stairs. Outside his grandfather’s door, he paused and knocked, waiting until a gruff voice invited him in. ‘Good morning, sir. How are you?’
‘No better for your asking,’ the Marquis grumbled, but then thought better of it. He had, after all, invited the young man to call. ‘Not so bad, thank you, Tom. It was good of you to come to see me.’
‘I had nothing better to do,’ Tom said