Victoria Forster. He’d never heard the name before, nor did he ever recall seeing her. Though truthfully, she wasn’t all that memorable. Light brown wisps of hair had escaped a tightly wound bun, but in the gloomy darkness the indeterminate color of her eyes added nothing to her plain-looking face. She was, however, the smallest female he had seen in a long time. The top of her head fell far short of his shoulder. A heavy cloak disguised her figure but because she lacked a bonnet, he noticed her petite facial features. In fact, it was a wonder she could even hear out of ears so small.
Good God, he was contemplating her ears. He glanced beside him, caught sight of said ear and quickly looked ahead. They had been walking in silence, with the ridiculous cat out in front and Timothy the footman behind, fast approaching his home. The oddest desire to walk her all t
he way to her home crept up on him, but he knew without deliberating the idea overlong that it wouldn’t set well with the independent young lady. Besides, he had wasted enough time being foolish.
Ignoring the pleasing waft of lavender that rose from the small woman beside him, he said, “This is it.” He halted in front of the steps leading to his door and she did the same. “It has been a most unusual evening, Miss Forster. I do hope you arrive home safely.” He leaned down and gave the silky, dark-furred cat one last stroke. “Good night, sir.”
Without another glance he climbed the steps.
Chapter Three
Well. She had been summarily dismissed. Someone, presumably the butler or perhaps a footman, opened the door from the inside. Lord Taviston, surely London’s most high-handed peer, sailed through the opening and disappeared from her sight.
“Meow.”
“Really, Arthur, you need to develop better taste in friends. He certainly won’t do.”
Victoria continued on a few more feet, but Arthur continued to meow and pull on his lead. She glanced back at Taviston’s door and noted it was closed.
“Very well, you may come off your lead. But stay with me and behave yourself.”
Arthur gave no reply to this but sat down and waited patiently while she unhooked the lead. She had just started walking again when she heard the unmistakable groan of a door opening. Victoria gasped and lunged for Arthur, but he was already away, streaking towards the open door of the Taviston home. A footman stuck his head out the door and peered in the opposite direction. Victoria flattened herself against the cool limestone, hoping the shadows provided adequate cover. Timothy followed her lead. The Taviston footman swiveled his head and glanced their way briefly but his gaze didn’t linger. As the fellow ducked back inside, Arthur shot into the house. The servant, unaware of the invader, shut the door quietly and Victoria heard the lock slide home. She stared in horror at Timothy, who lagged too far behind to even attempt to catch Arthur.
“What should we do, miss?” he asked in a whisper.
Victoria stared up at the door but knew there was no hope for it. Arthur could be anywhere in that expansive house by now. He had never met a door he didn’t want to go through.
Resignedly she said, “I will come back for him in the morning. I hope the wretch is happy.” Did she mean Arthur or Taviston? “Let’s go home, Timothy.”
A SCANT FOUR HOURS later, at half past seven in the morning, Victoria trudged up Duke Street, heading once again for Grosvenor Square. Not accustomed to rising quite so early after such a late night, she lumbered along.
The better part of her time in bed had been spent thinking of a certain bothersome man, rather than sleeping, which only made him even more irritating. Then, just thirty minutes ago her thoughts had shifted to Arthur. What if someone discovered him and put him out? He could be wandering aimlessly around London right now.
She could not lose Arthur, the one bright spot in her life. After dressing quickly, she had used five precious minutes to search out Louisa’s copy of Debrett’s Peerage. Panic set her heart racing when she discovered that Taviston was a dukedom—an old and distinguished one.
Arthur needed rescuing. Mischievous devil that he was, the tomcat wouldn’t hesitate to wreck chaos wherever he went. The last thing Victoria, a penniless orphan of very little consequence, needed was to attract the negative attention of a powerful duke. Such an indignity would not help land her a husband.
Carrying a large, covered basket with Arthur’s lead inside, she ascended the steps of Taviston House and quietly knocked on the door, hoping not to have to use the gleaming brass doorknocker.
A stately-looking man with a rim of white hair circling his head opened the door. He asked suspiciously, “How may I help you?”
“I’m terribly sorry to disturb you. I am Miss Victoria Forster of Somerset Street and last night I lost my cat, Arthur. Well, I didn’t lose him; he managed to disappear inside this house.” Her words tumbled one after the other. “You see, the door opened, and he loves open doors and so he bolted inside before I could stop him. I didn’t want to disturb the household last night, but I hoped perhaps someone had found him this morning?”
She tried not to appear desperate, though she certainly was. Almost any butler in London would think her daft and turn her away as quickly as possible.
“Are you certain your cat is in this house?” The duke’s butler looked much as his employer had last evening, puzzled and yet suspicious.
“Yes. It most definitely was this house he ran into.”
His mouth thinned as if he were ready to refuse her, but then his fluffy white eyebrows rose like snow-covered peaks over his widened blue eyes. He glanced over her person once and then with a sigh stepped back and opened the door wider. Victoria hid her surprise and darted inside. The first part of her mission was successful.
She resisted the urge to look around at the sumptuous surroundings and instead gave her most pleasant smile to the butler. “I do beg your pardon...?”
With a quick bow he said, “Halston, miss.”
“Truly, Mr. Halston, I am sorry to bother you. I was walking Arthur last night and someone opened your front door, and he ran right inside. I was mortified but decided it would be much better to return this morning to inquire after him. I’m certain he hasn’t caused any trouble; he’s only curious.”
She hoped she would be forgiven for the lie. Arthur was nothing but trouble. But also quite cuddly and she needed him.