Dawn In My Heart. Ruth Morren Axtell
Lord Skylar’s tone was more effective than a whip. The dog and owner stared at each other a few seconds—seconds in which Gillian’s hand went to her throat and she held her breath, fearful of her mother’s reaction. Her mother leaned forward in her chair as soon as the dog had moved, itching to have it removed from the room, no doubt.
Gillian could feel her whole body willing the dog to obey Lord Skylar. The seconds dragged on until finally the dog whined and, with a longing look toward Gillian, sat back down before Lord Skylar.
He smiled at the animal—a smile that broke the austerity of his features—and reached across the table for a biscuit. Breaking off a piece, he held it out to the dog, who gobbled it up eagerly.
“Good girl,” Lord Skylar told the dog, giving her neck another rubbing.
“Good afternoon, Lady Gillian,” he said, only then turning his attention to Gillian. “If you’d like to greet your new pet, she is eager to slather you with gratitude for your timely rescue.”
Gillian needed no other prompting. She was at the dog’s side in an instant, kneeling beside her and receiving its wet greeting. “Hello, there,” she said, not knowing what to call the animal, so she continued petting it and crooning over it.
She looked up at Lord Skylar with a wide smile. She hadn’t heard anything from him since the afternoon outing and lived in terror that he’d inform her the dog had been found a home out in the country somewhere. He gave her a brief smile and turned his attention back to her mother.
“I am in the midst of a training program since the dog arrived from our estate. She was given a bit of a freer rein out in the country. We’ll have her well behaved for the drawing room in no time.” Again his glance crossed Gillian’s and she saw the glint in his eye. She looked over at her mother, and she detected nothing but alarm in her eyes. Good, she thought in relief. At least her mother didn’t see the mockery in Lord Skylar’s eyes.
“Well, I don’t know…” she began in dubious tones, her hand playing nervously with the gold chain about her neck. “We’ve never had any animals in the house.”
“Every fine lady has a drawing room pet. Most are lap dogs that do nothing but yap at the guests and nip at their heels. This one is a real dog. She’ll be a good companion for your daughter when she goes out walking.”
“I don’t know…” her mother repeated. “She has Templeton.”
Gillian and Lord Skylar both glanced at the woman in question, and Gillian was hard-pressed not to burst out laughing.
“I assure you, Miss Templeton,” Lord Skylar said smoothly, “you will feel safer with a well-behaved watchdog between the two of you. You’ll fear no cutpurses or pickpockets. With the parks so crowded with riffraff during the festivities, you need a fearless animal with you.”
Templeton smiled, her rouged cheeks bright. “Oh, yes! I am so grateful for your thoughtfulness. The streets are an absolute peril nowadays for a lady.”
“Templeton!” her mother said sharply. Then she cleared her throat and turned back to Lord Skylar. “As I said, we’re not at all sure we can keep…her. We’re not accustomed to pets in the house. Perhaps in the mews…?” she suggested in a faltering voice.
“Oh, Mama, look at her! She’s so clean. And look how quietly she sits. Mayn’t I try her in the house?”
Lord Skylar ignored Gillian’s spirited tone. “I have received my invitation to Prinny’s grand fete for the Duke of Wellington. My father and I would like to request the pleasure of your company that night. We would be honored to escort you and Lady Gillian.”
“Indeed. The Regent’s fete?”
Gillian watched her mother’s dignified features. Not by a hint did she give away the fact that they had not as yet received their invitation, and that her mother looked assiduously through the pile of mail each day for the coveted invitation.
“Yes, on the twenty-first,” replied Sky smoothly. He took another sip of tea. “I hear Nash is working furiously to complete the special hall at Carlton House in time. I’m afraid it will be frightfully crowded, but I thought as a memorable historical event, it would interest Lady Gillian.” He glanced her way again. “Something to tell her grandchildren. The day she curtsied before Wellington.”
“Yes, most assuredly,” her mother agreed. “We shall be happy to have your escort.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He set the delicate porcelain cup and saucer down. “I would beg leave to take Lady Gillian with me for a turn about the square to acquaint her with her new pet. I can go over some of the commands I’ve taught the dog.”
He stood. “We shall be merely down below, in plain view, if Miss Templeton should care to sit here and observe us.” He moved to the window and pushed aside the curtain.
“Very well, but don’t keep her long.”
Down in the square below, Lord Skylar relinquished the dog’s leash to Gillian as they walked beneath the linden trees. She took it eagerly. “She’s beautiful. What did you do to get her coat so shiny?”
“I gave her to a groom and told him to make sure to rid it of any fleas. I presume he bathed it, deloused it and fed it.”
“And your father’s dogs, how did they behave?”
“Apparently they have accepted her.”
She looked down shyly. “I don’t know how to thank you.” She giggled, remembering her mother’s losing battle before Lord Skylar’s smooth, invincible logic. “I never thought I’d see the day Mama would agree to an indoor pet.”
“She hasn’t exactly agreed yet,” he corrected her.
“She will. After dangling the prince’s dinner in front of her,” she added with a sly glance at him. “I would call that a masterful stroke.”
He shrugged. “You were invited.”
“Not yet, we haven’t been.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sure we shall receive an invitation,” she added quickly. “We have gone to all the major receptions there since Prinny became regent. But I believe since Papa passed away, the royal summonses are slower in arriving. Mama begins to fidget as the time draws closer.”
“I am glad, then, to be able to relieve her mind.”
“I have never met the Duke of Wellington,” Gillian marveled. “I can hardly wait to meet such a brave man. He has saved England and much of the Continent.”
“Have you been following the campaigns closely?” he asked, slanting her a curious look.
She could feel the color rising in her cheeks. “Yes, just as everyone else in England has.” Not caring to delve into the topic too deeply, she returned to the previous matter. “To think Mama has agreed to an abandoned stray from the streets!”
Taking the change of topic in stride, he said, “This dog is of good stock.”
“Oh, yes, the finest,” she said, laughter bubbling up. “If you are to be believed, she can probably trace her lineage back to Charles the First’s favorite pooch.”
“I may have exaggerated the facts to your mother, but I didn’t altogether lie. This dog has some illustrious spaniel blood. If it has been, er, tainted along the way with some lesser-known varieties, that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s almost purebred.”
“‘Almost’—that won’t convince Mother.”
“Then let us hope she believed my story.”
She laughed again. After a moment, she turned to him. “You can be very charming and believable when you want to be. Do you only do it when you wish to obtain something from someone?”
“That