If men such as Sir Aaron chose to flaunt themselves at women, sometimes they had no choice but to give in to the temptation. Even if society dictated otherwise. At least, that was how she justified her decision.
Yet their shared conversation was what had given her greater pause. The stubborn, arrogant man just might have some decency in him. Of course, most were likely eroded away by his immense pride and that cocksure grin he always flashed, but there seemed to be a little left within him.
As they approached the mastiff, its sad brown eyes tore at Louisa’s heart. He stood panting at them, one paw lifted several inches off the ground. Each time he lowered it, a harsh whine erupted from his throat.
“What is hurting you, my friend?” Sir Aaron asked as he lowered himself to one knee. Taking the injured paw in his hand, he studied it for several moments. “Ah, that is a nasty thorn you have there. But don’t worry. I’ll remove it for you. You’ll feel much better once it’s gone.”
Louisa let out a dreamy sigh. No, he was not as vile as she had first thought. If he showed such great care and spoke in soothing tones with an animal, he would have an even better consideration for his fellow humans.
“Ah!” Sir Aaron shouted as the dog snapped at his hand, sending him toppling onto his backside.
Louisa stifled a giggle upon seeing the knight’s crimson cheeks of anger. Instead, she offered him a hand. “Here, allow me to help you stand.”
A scowl crossed his lips, and he snorted at her offer. “I’m not feeble,” he murmured. “The grass is wet and thus slippery.” He pulled himself up and brushed at the legs of his breeches, drawing Louisa’s attention to his well-turned calf. “Now, let’s try this again.”
Louisa frowned. “Won’t he snap at you again?” she asked.
“Only a man can tame a beast, Miss Dunston.” He crossed his arms over his wide chest and arched an eyebrow at her. “Unless you believe you are more capable?”
Louisa swallowed back a retort. This man’s arrogance knew no bounds! Yet looking over his face, she understood why. He was handsome, devilishly so. That coupled with his newly bestowed title, what more could his pride do than swell?
She might have enjoyed the way he had grabbed hold of her and kissed her during their time alone together at Foxly Manor, but this Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter needed to be taught a lesson. A little bit of humility went a long way when dealing with a man’s vanity. And if he learned that a woman was as capable as a man, then all the better.
Without a word to Sir Aaron, Louisa squatted beside the poor dog and began stroking its head. “My friend here wishes to help you,” she whispered. The dog whimpered. “Yes, I know he has a terrible temper, but don’t worry. He’ll not harm you.”
“The dog doesn’t understand you,” Sir Aaron growled, sounding like a dog himself. “Surely, you know that!”
Louisa ignored him and put out a hand. “Your paw, please.”
The dog stood panting at her for several moments before raising his paw. “You were saying, Sir Aaron?”
Sir Aaron’s look of astonishment as he lowered himself beside her made the afternoon worth every moment.
“Now,” she continued, “I’ll move away, and you can remove the thorn.”
She moved to the dog’s side, petting its head and neck and speaking soothing words.
The knight shook his head and set to removing the thorn. Once it was out, he tossed it in a nearby bush and said, “There. It’s gone. But now he’s bleeding.” He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the dog’s paw.
Louisa could only stare in incredulity. How could a man possess the mannerisms of a pig one minute and be so gentle the next? It was no wonder women struggled to understand their male counterparts. They were such a fickle lot.
Once the cloth was tied, Sir Aaron stood. “That should help protect the wound until it heals.”
“That was kind of you,” Louisa said. “To give up your handkerchief for a dog. And one you’ve never met even more so.”
His brow knitted. “Do you think me cruel?”
Louisa went to nod but stopped herself. There was no reason to be rude.
The sound of hoof beats had Sir Aaron staring past her, his eyes narrowed. A blond gentleman in his mid-thirties with a fine brown woolen coat and black leather riding boots came riding up to them. His frown told them he was displeased.
“What’s that on Rollo’s foot?” he demanded, grunting as he dismounted from the chestnut mare. “You there, woman. Is this your foolery? And you, sir, you allowed her to do this? This is a dog, not a child. And he’s certainly nothing to either of you.”
Louisa could not help but gape. They had gone out of their way to tend to his animal, and he was angry? If that was not ingratitude, she did not know what was.
A movement made her glance to her side. Ruth was walking up to them, her hands clenched into fists. This was the last thing she needed, Ruth challenging this man to a bout of fisticuffs. What was absurd about the entire situation was that the girl likely would if Louisa did not stop her.
Waving off her friend, Louisa went to speak, but Sir Aaron did not give her the opportunity.