Susan Krinard - Lord of the Beasts

“As long as you need me.”

Her shoulders relaxed, but her gaze remained fixed on his face. “You like Cordelia, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Ivy. She has been nothing but kind to you, and the animals—”

“No. I mean you like her.”

He reminded himself again that she was no child, and that her very survival in London had depended on the keenness of her observations. He pretended a sudden interest in the knot of his cravat.

“I admire her, certainly,” he said. “She is a formidable woman.”

Ivy snorted. “You’re no good at lyin’, guv. I seen ‘ow you watched at ‘er at the farm, roight enough.”

“And how did I watch her, pray tell?”

“The way ol’ Rooster Tom looks at the ‘ens after ‘e’s ‘ad ‘is fill o’ crowin’.”

“Ivy!” Heat rushed to his face, and he steered her away from the avid ears of the footman who lingered nearby. “It would be best if you abandon rookery speech at Edgecott, since Mrs. Hardcastle hopes to give you the advantages of a lady.”

Ivy thrust her nose in the air and performed a deep curtsey. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

He sighed. “Also, consider what you say. I have no objections to your frankness, but you’ll find that it may be advisable to think before you speak.”

Ivy’s playful demeanor melted into seriousness. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is work to be grown up, Ivy, no matter where you are. Whatever you may face here, it will be nothing compared to London.”

Ivy pressed her face into Sir Reginald’s warm coat. “Do you think I could be a lady, Donal?”

“I think you can be whatever you choose.”

“Then if I work hard and wear pretty dresses, will you look at me the way you look at Cordelia?”

Donal heard Ivy’s words with amazement and consternation. His cravat seemed to tighten like a noose. As he struggled to find an answer, a footman emerged from the house and held the door open for the one who followed.

Cordelia Hardcastle swept down the stairs in a rustle of deep blue skirts, a smile animating her resolute features. She walked past the servants and extended her hands to Ivy. There was no mistaking the warmth of her greeting.

“Ivy,” she said, “Dr. Fleming. Welcome to Edgecott.”

Ivy took Cordelia’s hands. “It is a beautiful house,” she said with uncharacteristic shyness.

“Thank you, my dear.” Cordelia glanced up at Donal. “I hope that your journey was a pleasant one?”

Donal inclined his head. “We found it most enjoyable.”

Her gaze lingered on his face. “I am so glad that both of you have been able to join us.”

The rote courtesies expected on such occasions flew out of Donal’s mind. Somehow he had forgotten a few small details of Cordelia’s features in the two weeks since she had left Stenwater Farm: the clean arch of her brows, the tiny dimple in her left cheek, the fullness of her lips that hinted of sensuality kept under strict control.

Those lips parted, and Cordelia’s breath sighed out as gently as the breeze stirring the leaves overhead. How easy it would be, how scandalously improper, if he were to lean down and catch her mouth with his own….

“Donal?” Ivy said.

He shook his head and looked away. Cordelia casually put another several feet of distance between them. “I’m certain you must be famished,” she said to Ivy. “Cook has prepared a grand luncheon fit for the Queen herself. It will be served at one. You will wish to rest, and change into fresh clothing. Your boxes are already being taken up to your rooms.”

“I hadn’t much to bring,” Ivy said. “Only the dresses you and Donal bought for me.”

“Of course, my dear. But we shall soon remedy any deficiencies in your wardrobe, I assure you.” She turned to Donal. “Our butler, Croome, will escort you to your chamber, Dr. Fleming. Mrs. Priday, our housekeeper, takes a personal interest in seeing to the comfort of our guests.”

Mrs. Priday, who was blessed with the round, pleasant face and stout figure that seemed the very hallmarks of an English country housekeeper, took Ivy under her ample wing. After a brief backward glance, Ivy went with her. Croome stood waiting while Cordelia hesitated.

“I trust that Miss Shipp is well?” Donal said to fill the silence.

“She has a slight ague, Dr. Fleming, which is why she was unable to greet you. I shall tell her that you inquired after her.”

“Yes.” Donal glanced across the park. “You have a fine wood here, Mrs. Hardcastle.”

“Thank you. The Amesburys have always appreciated nature.” She paused. “Perhaps you would like to come in?”

Donal looked from the gaunt-faced Croome to the wide, heavy door. A rush of panic caught at his throat. “I should be happy to look at your animals now, if it is convenient,” he said.

“Dr. Fleming, I certainly do not expect you to work after such a tiring journey. That can wait for another day.”

“Nevertheless, I … Do you perhaps have an empty groundskeeper’s cottage, or a room above the stables? I believe I would be more effective in working with your animals if I lived closer to them.”

She stared at him with raised brows, doubtless wondering whether or not to take offense at his apparent rejection of her hospitality. From her perspective, she must be doing a simple country veterinarian considerable honor by inviting him to stay in her titled father’s country manor.

“There is another reason it might be best if I lodged outside the house,” he said quickly. “You and Ivy will naturally spend more time together without the distraction of my presence. It is, after all, to our purpose if we encourage her to prefer your company over mine.”

“And she will not do so if you are in the vicinity?” Cordelia asked, too sweetly.

He knew he had blundered, but the constant effort of making himself agreeable was wearing on his patience. “Mrs. Hardcastle,” he said, “it hardly matters how we attain our mutual goal as long as we achieve it.”

Her eyes snapped with annoyance. “I quite agree, Doctor.” She spoke to Croome, who signaled to one of the footmen and went inside the house. The footman set out across the park in the direction of the stables.

“I have sent for our head groundskeeper,” Cordelia said, “who will know if there is a cottage available. It may require a few hours to arrange. In the meantime, perhaps you will condescend to make use of your room to refresh yourself. You do wish to set Ivy a good example.” She started for the door and paused, glancing over her shoulder. “You will, of course, join us for meals. I would not like Ivy to think that I have banished you from the house entirely.”

With that, she marched into the house, and the last remaining footman closed the door behind her.

Donal stood staring at the door, feeling very much the fool. For one mad, impossible moment he had been ready to admit to Cordelia the real reason he couldn’t bring himself to stay in the house. In that moment he had desperately wanted her to understand.

But if she had ever felt the need to run untrammeled in the wilderness, to cast off all bonds and renounce the walls and bars and conformity of man’s civilization, she had long since judged such needs irrelevant to her life. And that would make her no different than a hundred thousand other English men and women who either denied the animal within themselves, or set it free to rend and devour their own kind. For most humans, there was no middle path.

With a sigh, Donal picked up his bag, turned on his heel and strode onto the neatly groomed lawn of the park. He tore his cravat loose and stuffed it in his pocket, finally able to breathe again. Soon he was walking beneath the high, arched canopies of oak, ash, elm and lime. He opened his mind and let it wander, brushing over the small, bright flashes of avian thoughts sparkling among the branches, sensing the horses in the stables and the sheep that kept the grass so well trimmed. Close to the earth he heard mice and voles and rabbits, all busy with the endless work of searching for food or raising the next generation.