Page 11 of My Best Friend's Earl
“Have you suffered a knock on the head? That is not a pet. That”—he pointed at the tiny, rather battered-looking gray lump—“is a hodgepodge of fur, fleas, and teeth.”
Althea hugged the basket to her chest. “Don’t speak toour first child in that tone. You’ll scare the wee mite, and he’s had a rather trying day.”
“It’s a boy?” Against his will, Oliver found himself stepping closer to peek at the animal. Hell, it was so small. Was it old enough to be away from its mother?
“I’m not sure, actually. Being so recently acquainted, I didn’t think it seemly to check under the tail. However, since it is determined to be temperamental except when offered food, I think it safe to assume it’s male.”
Damn, she was funny when she wanted to be. Oliver covered a budding smile with his palm and left it there until the urge to laugh passed, lest he encourage her antics. This whole situation reeked of the meddlesome Miss Martin and her giant, unblinking cat. “May I ask what brought on this idea?”
Overly wide eyes, full of faux innocence, gazed up at him. “I told you I want cats in my home. Surely your memory isn’t faulty already? Obviously, you are quite a few years older than I, but I didn’t expect to address your decline so soon.” Slowly, like talking to a child, she said, “Today in the park. Remember?”
Lord, she was a brat. Shaking his head, he said, “Forgive my confusion at your drastic change in attitude. Last month you refused to keep the appointment with the modiste to discuss your wedding gown. Yet here you are, filling my home with cats and referring to it as our first child.”
Alarm bells sounded in his head when she raised her chin in an increasingly familiar gesture. “It’s only one cat. For now. And I wasn’t feeling well enough to attend that appointment.”
“Hogwash. You were dancing and drinking champagne hours later at the Highford ball.” Oliver crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels as he kept an equal eye on the colorrising in her cheeks, and the mongrel kitten’s increasing curiosity with the room beyond its basket. Huge, shiny eyes seemed to take in everything at once, and he couldn’t tell if the creature was terrified or intrigued.
“The malady was blessedly short-lived. I’d have hated to disappoint Lady Highford.”
“Am I to believe you’ve changed your mind about the wedding? You won’t fight your parents at every turn, or treat me like a villain for fulfilling my part of the betrothal contract?”
Althea tightened her jaw, making the muscle near her ear jump as she ground her teeth. Oliver recognized it for what it was. Despite her talk of being married and trying on the role of wife in small ways, she hadn’t changed her mind about the marriage. The dishonesty of it, her saying one thing while feeling another, grated.
“What is really going on here, Althea? You’ve been fairly honest about what you want until now.”
He waited, letting his disbelief speak for itself in the ensuing quiet. It was a trick he’d learned from his father. When faced with minimal response, a liar would often tell on themselves to fill a silence. However, this was Althea, not the late Earl of Southwyn.
“Honesty hasn’t provided success so far, has it? I’ve told you what I want. I’ve been telling you for three years.” Her words were no less fierce, despite their hushed volume as she lightly stroked the kitten’s ears.
Oliver rubbed a palm over his face and gave a heavy sigh. “Wants and needs are two different things, Althea. Our position and responsibilities mean we must prioritize needs over our own desires.”
“Is that the same speech you gave my sister? That you didn’t want to marry her, but would? Or did you actually love Dorcas, and she didn’t want a stuffed-shirt like you?”
This entire conversation was exhausting. “Althea, what are you going on about? I was fond of Dorcas, as I am you.” When the news of Dorcas’s hasty marriage over a Scottish anvil reached him, he’d been just as surprised as everyone else.
“From my earliest memory you were engaged to my sister. I think of you as a brother, not a husband.” She pursed her lips and continued to stroke the kitten’s head. A low grumble sounded from the animal. Growl or purr, he didn’t know, but it didn’t shy from the touch. “Now that Dorcas is Cyrus’s wife, I’ve inherited the burden of the family promise.”
“Please remember that I am also bound by that promise. Your sister’s elopement impacted my marriage plans as well. We both are doing what we must.” Oliver brought his finger up to smooth the fur between the cat’s ears. The resulting sound from the animal was less than friendly. To ensure there was no miscommunication, the kitten curled its lip in a hiss, showing tiny, needle-like teeth.
“So, you admit you’re settling for the younger sister.”
That was not the answer he’d expected. Oliver shot her a questioning look. “No one is settling, Althea. Marriage to Dorcas, or marriage to you, it makes little difference to me. Our families made a contract with impacts far beyond just us. Although my father’s vows weren’t worth the paper they were written on, I am a different man. When I give my word, I keep it. My honor is the one thing this world can’t take away. I said I’d marry you, and I will.”
A white line appeared around her lips and he knew she was biting back words. Frustration pushed against the barrier of his calm. Yes, their situation was less than ideal. However, without him, she’d be at the mercy of her father, who would likely punish her for going against his wishes. Why couldn’t she recognize that he was trying to do the right thing here?“I’ll do my best to make you happy. You’ll have my title, a fortune, several houses to decorate however you like. Fill them with cats, or dogs, or monkeys for all I care. Your parents won’t wait. They’ve decided this Season will see us wed.”
Oliver eyed the kitten. It had pushed back the wicker lid entirely and stood with its tiny paws on the rim of the basket as it surveyed the room. If one small kitten was what it took to secure a better future for the Southwyn estate and surrounding county, then so be it. Should the coming years bring another disastrous growing season like this one, having a locks system in place, and the income from it, might make all the difference.
All right. So, he had a cat to worry about, along with everything else.
“If this fellow is the way to get you excited about your new life, then I will happily accept our first family member… even if I am confused about why you brought me a cat.”
“I saw how you were with Gingersnap. And I was telling the truth when I said I intend to have animals.” Althea set the basket on the floor. Oliver bit back a comment about the expensive carpet. “Here you go, little one. Your new home,” she murmured. Then she whispered something that sounded suspiciously likedo your worst.
The cat perched at the edge of the basket, content for the moment to look around. Its ears were impossibly large compared to the rest of the body, which appeared in desperate need of a good meal or five. In the hall beyond the study door, Roberts, the butler, conversed with a footman. The cat’s fur twitched with the cadence of the low tones from the men’s voices, as if it were preparing to bolt.
“Do you think a man mistreated it? You can pet it, but it growled at me,” Oliver hypothesized aloud.
Althea straightened, that defiant chin lift in place once more. “Then you’d best win its trust. And win mine as well while you’re at it. If you want a willing bride, I am going to need more from you than your heartfelt declaration of apathy about not caring if you marry me or my sister.” Althea pointed to the kitten as it leapt from the basket and began creeping across the carpet, staying low to the ground, ready to run scared. “Show me you’re capable of affection and caring. Start with him.” She shook her head. “Or her. You should probably begin with a name.”
