Page 10 of My Best Friend's Earl
Constance blinked, nonplussed. “Of course. I have a pulse, and he’s objectively handsome. As I was saying, he’s attractive. And it’s not his fault you’re both bound by that bloody contract, or that Dorcas eloped. Before we check off more items from our list, especially as it now involves another living creature,” she added, when the kitten meowed from the basket, “I have to ask you again. Is it possible you could find happiness together?”
The way Althea glanced around made Constance’s neckprickle with the certainty that her friend hadn’t been entirely honest before that moment.
“My family’s status in society is not noble enough to warrant a merger of lands, or so significant that I need to marry a man whom I think of as a brother. Not when…” She drew in a lungful of air before forging on. “Not when my affections lie elsewhere.”
Understanding dawned. “You’re in love with someone else. Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
Pink bloomed over Althea’s cheeks. “I’m not entirely certain he feels as strongly as I do. Even if he doesn’t, I cannot stomach marrying Oliver, when the only real motivating reason to honor the engagement is to avoid another irate tirade from my father.”
That certainly didn’t bode well. “Will your father make lifethatmiserable if you cry off?” Other questions wanted to follow. Was Althea in danger? Would Sir William cause her physical harm, or do something drastic and worthy of one of Caro’s villains? Because if the man was likely to lock Althea in her room and starve her until she agreed to walk down the aisle, then this little project of theirs needed to have contingency plans in place.
Althea nodded. The posture that had been so straight and proper moments before wilted. “I see the worry on your face. It’s not as if he will drag me before a clergyman, kicking and screaming, but he would not be above threats and manipulation. No doubt he’d pack me off to the country or take away my pin money. There wouldn’t be violence.”
Pity made Constance’s eyes burn. “Violence does not always involve fists.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Then the best I can promise is Father won’t leave me with bruises. More than anything, Ithink he fears society’s opinion if Oliver ended things. However, his overblown sense of self-importance is not worth my long-term happiness.” She forced a bright smile. “Which is why I am eager to meet what I don’t doubt will be an entirely perfect and feral beast. I hope he or she is ideally suited to wreak havoc on Oliver’s life. May I see?”
Gently nudging Gingersnap off the basket with a murmured apology, Constance unlatched the lid. “Alas, I suspect our beastie is not entirely feral.” Her cat met the tiny pink nose poking from the basket with his own, and the whiskers of the two felines tangled as they commenced a thorough inspection. “However, the poor thing is starving. Also, he or she is filthy, so there’s that to deal with as well. I’d thought to bathe it before bringing the cat to Lord Stuffy Pants, but perhaps gifting him the animal in this condition works toward our goals of creating maximum discomfort.” The tiny gray kitten poked its scraggly head from the basket, eyes wide as it took in the room and people.
“Oh, it’s so small…” Althea whispered, reaching out a finger for the cat to sniff. Her gesture was met with a low growl, so she snatched her hand away.
“He accepts bribes.” Constance handed over the bag of meaty bits she’d saved for exactly this reason.
Hesitantly, Althea offered a treat to the kitten. Instead of a growl, it nipped the meat from her hand, then began to purr.
Althea grinned. “Not so hard to win over after all, I see. You’re brilliant, Constance. Perhaps this scamp will be what convinces Oliver that I’ll make his life hell. I told him today that I intend to have a whole herd of cats. I’ve been doing as you suggested and fussing over him. Not only did I adjust his cravat when we were in the carriage, I also spent more thana full minute brushing off his coat. The poor man played statue through all of it. Like I was a wild animal and would lose interest and leave if he simply held very still.”
Constance laughed, startling the kitten into retreating back to the safety of the basket. Worry made her bite her lip at the idea of letting an innocent creature into the unknown environment of the earl’s home. “You’re certain he won’t mistreat our tiny friend? It’s already so skittish.”
Althea nodded. “Oliver would never be cruel to an animal. It’s not in him.”
“I insist on taking it home with me if the earl shows any sign that he will take out his frustrations on this kitten. Am I clear on that point?”
“Of course. If I suffer even a moment of doubt when I offer our gift, I’ll turn it into an opportunity for a dramatic scene over his unsuitability as a pet owner. Truly, I wouldn’t do this if I thought he’d harm the kitten.”
Comforted by that, Constance relaxed. “I’ll leave you with the basket, since the little one seems rather settled in here. Gingersnap and I will let you get on with the work of further ruining his lordship’s day.”
As she stood, the familiar heft of her cat was a soothing weight in her arms. Burying her nose in his fluffy neck, Constance sighed. The kitten would be fine. Anything the tiny creature encountered in a London townhome had to be kinder than the alleyway in which she’d found it. The gray head poked out of the basket and stared up at her with enormous eyes. “You’ll be fine, pet. I promise.” It didn’t growl when she stroked a finger between the disproportionately large ears that swiveled toward the noises of the kitchen.
“I’d best be getting back to the shop. Hattie has been working alone today, while my father tries to catch up on the bookkeeping.”
Althea gave her a light hug, kissed Gingersnap on his head, then picked up the basket and escorted Constance out the door.
As Constance climbed the steps to street level, her stomach growled.
Right. Pie shop first, then home. Good thing she wrote that down, so she didn’t forget again.
Chapter Five
Ruin his peace and quiet with an uninvited permanent houseguest
Oliver was marrying a madwoman. Well, if not actually mad, then certainly determined to drivehimto madness. The scene before him was one he’d never imagined, yet somehow should have expected.
Perhaps not this exact scenario. But something equally ludicrous. In his defense, when listing the many ways Althea annoyed, nagged, and generally made a nuisance of herself since Dorcas eloped and left them stuck with each other, he’d never expected a feral cat. This was also the girl who’d once released chickens into his bedroom as a prank when she was ten years old.
So yes, he should have known. Believing she’d grown past such things was his first mistake.
“I’ve brought us our first pet. Every home should have at least one.” She held a familiar basket with a distinctly feline, if patchy face, poking out the top.
