Tessa Dare - The Wallflower Wager

“No.”

“Well, I do. And it’s an outrageous figure. They envision themselves rubbing elbows with the elite, climbing the rungs of society, living in elegance and luxury. If they gaze out the drawing-room window and see their aristocratic neighbor playing goatherdess on the green like some absurd imitation of Marie Antoinette? It ruins the effect.”

“People run their dogs on the green all the time.”

“Dogs are pets.”

“Marigold is a pet, too. And she needs to browse. She can’t subsist on alfalfa alone. She’s prone to bloating.”

“Bloating?” he echoed, incredulous.

“She has sensitive digestion.”

“That doesn’t look like bloating to me.” He tilted his head and regarded Marigold’s swollen underbelly. “That looks like breeding.”

Penny stepped back, offended. “She is not breeding. It’s impossible. There are no bucks for miles.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Yes, I’m certain. No one keeps goats in the middle of Mayf—” She bit her tongue before she made his argument for him. “I’m telling you, it’s impossible. If she’s not in the mews or the back garden, I keep her on a short lead.”

His eyebrow quirked with derision. “Spoken like the guardian of many a ruined young female in this neighborhood, I’d wager.”

“I beg your pardon. Marigold is not that kind of goat.”

“Whatever you say. I don’t care about the creature’s virtue. I just want her removed from the square.”

“I told you, she needs to browse. Her diet requires shrubs and fresh grasses. Hay and corn are well enough for Angus, but—”

“Hold a moment. Angus?”

“Angus is a Highland steer. I rescued him when he was a calf, but he’s three years old now. Grown and healthy as anything.”

He blinked at her. “You have a fully grown bull—”

“A steer.”

“—living in your back garden.”

“Don’t be silly. Angus lives in the mews. The otter is in the back garden.”

“An otter?” He grumbled something that sounded like Holy immaculate mother of goats. “This is ridiculous.”

“Mr. Duke, the variety of pets I keep may be unusual, but an attachment to animals isn’t. Have you never had a pet of your own?”

“No.”

“Don’t you like animals?”

“Certainly, I like animals. Roasted animals. Fried animals. Minced-and-baked-in-a-pie animals.” He gestured expansively. “I like all kinds of animals.”

Oh, this man was impossible.

No, Penny corrected. The man was not impossible. Even the most untamed, ill-mannered creatures could be won over with a bit of patience. She’d made pets of worse beasts than Gabriel Duke.

She simply wasn’t up to the effort this afternoon, that’s all.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t have time to compromise. They have to go. All of them. The goat, the cow, the otter, the parrot, that hedgehog, and whatever else you have in your rafters. I need them all gone.”

“What a coincidence you should say that.”

Ever since her aunt had left, Penny had been turning it over and over in her mind. She would have to find the animals new homes. Either she did so quickly and succeeded in convincing her aunt, or else she would be forced to leave Bloom Square—in which case, there would be no taking her pets with her. Bradford would never take them to Cumberland. If she defied her brother’s wishes, one of Penny’s friends would surely welcome her to stay with them—but she couldn’t ask them to take in a few dozen animals, too.

One way or another, she would have to bid them farewell. And if she wanted any hope of remaining in Bloom Square, she must not only find her pets new homes, but undo a decade of social seclusion. In three weeks.

It all seemed hopeless.

“As it happens, Mr. Duke, you are going to get your wish. The animals will be gone within the month, one way or another.”

“Good.”

“In fact, it’s entirely possible that I’ll be gone, too.”

“Wait.” His eyebrows converged in a frown. “What did you say?”

“My brother is demanding I go home to the ancestral estate in Cumberland. He’s coming to collect me in three weeks. That means I’ll be leaving Bloom Square, too. Unless I work a miracle.”

He swore under his breath. “This is unacceptable.”

“I’m not happy about it, either, but I’m afraid neither of us has much say in the matter. I must be going.” She gathered Marigold’s lead. “Come along, sweeting.”

He cut off her path. “The miracle.”

“What?”

“You said you’ll be leaving unless you work a miracle. Tell me about the miracle.”

“I don’t know why you should care.”

“Oh, I care,” he said. “I care a great deal. What ever this ‘miracle’ is, I will work it.”

“You couldn’t possibly.”

“I can, and I will.”

Heavens. His dark, intense stare nailed her slippers to the gravel path. Her heart pounded in her chest. And then he spoke the gruff, possessive words Penny had started to doubt she’d ever hear.

“I need you, Lady Penelope Campion. I’m not letting you go.”

When he made this firm declaration, Gabe had not been expecting Lady Penelope’s reaction. First she looked surprised, and then she looked—

She looked hopeful?

“You . . .” Her cheeks flushed pink. “You need me?”

He would need to tread carefully here. She was sheltered, naïve. And she did not want to be a spinster. So much was clear from simply staring into her china-blue eyes. She’d been saving that soft, blushing sweetness for years, waiting to lavish it on the right man.

Gabe was not, and never would be, the right man. Not for her, not for anyone. If Her Ladyship had formed any notions otherwise, she was a fool.

“I need you,” he clarified, “to continue residing in Bloom Square if I’m to sell the house at a handsome profit. Which I fully intend to do.”

She blinked several times in succession. “Yes, of course. I knew that. It’s kind of you to offer your help, that’s all.”

Kind?

What an innocent she was. If she could glimpse the ugliness in his past, the ruthless hunger that consumed his mind, the blackness of his heart, she would learn the enormity of her mistake. But he’d never allow anyone near the yawning, empty pit of his soul. Posted warnings were the best he could offer. For her own sake, she had better heed them.

“Listen to me,” he said sternly. “My motives are never kind. Neither are they generous or charitable or good. They’re money-driven and entirely selfish. You’d do well to remember that.”

So would he.

“So,” he said, “what are the terms of this miracle you’ve mentioned?”

“My aunt has promised she’ll try to change my brother’s mind about taking me home to the country—but only if I meet her conditions.”

“And those would be . . . ?”

“A new, fashionable wardrobe, to begin.”

“Well, that’s not even a challenge. Certainly nothing approaching a miracle.”

“It’s the easy part, yes. My dear friend Emma was a seamstress before she married. I know she’d help.” She took a deep breath. “But there’s more. I also have to begin moving in society again.”

He shook his head. “Do we have different definitions of the word ‘miracle’? Because that doesn’t sound difficult, either.”

“You don’t understand. I haven’t socialized within the ton in almost a decade. By now, they’ve forgotten I even exist. Yet somehow I’m meant to make my grand reentrance. She wants to see me in the society column.”

Gabe was forced to admit that sounded a touch more complicated than the first condition, and it certainly wasn’t something well-suited to his own talents. He wouldn’t be caught dead at a ball, and despite his many mentions in the papers, none was in the society column.