“Welcome to Seven Dover Street.” Will chuckled.
Ashby grinned. A home, with children and puppies to greet his face. Firmly resolved, he followed Will to the first floor drawing room to greet the dragoness.
“Oh, William! My dearest boy!” Lady Hyacinth swooped on Will, pasting a loud kiss on his cheek. “And my dear Captain Lord Ashby, how good of you to come. Oh! You must join us for dinner. I absolutely insist. I care not what elaborate dishes they are presently preparing for you at Lancaster House. You must sit with us and tell us all about Wellington.”
“I would love to stay for dinner, Lady Hyacinth.” Ashby smiled.
“Good. Then it’s settled. Now I must send someone to fetch Stilgoe from White’s. Norris!”
“Your brother lives well,” Ashby remarked to Will with half a smile.
Will shrugged. “Yes, well, not everyone is like you, Ash.”
“Don’t judge him. He has a family to look after, as most of the aristocracy. I don’t.”
“Of course you do.” Will slapped his back fondly. “What are we, little goats? Besides, if anything should happen to you, Izzy will never speak to me again.”
Ashby cracked a smile. “You know, I just might run off with her to Gretna Green, if she keeps smiling at me like that.”
“Please! Do! Go off with her! Restore our peace of mind!”
“Your mama won’t like it.” Ashby grinned.
“Are you serious?” Will’s face wrinkled comically. “My mother would make an offering to the gods! I think she secretly does, anyway…” Will hushed up as Lady Hyacinth reentered.
“Oh, dear. Look at you.” Scowling, she perused their dusty regimentals. “You must wash and change before dinner. Will, show Ashby to the guest chamber, why don’t you, my love?”
“Ashby knows where the guest chamber is, Mama.” Will strolled out, leading the way, nonetheless. “By the bye, Ash, my sister’s bedchamber is over there,” he pointed at the opposite direction while they traversed the hallway, “should you ever decide to run off with her.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Just a thought…” Will threw his hands in the air as he walked into his bedchamber.
Ashby continued down the hallway, heading for the guest chamber. The idea of running off with Isabel was both amusing and petrifying. He was thirteen years her senior. By the time the war ended and she grew up, he’d be so old, she wouldn’t remember what she ever saw in him.
He bathed and changed into a clean uniform and sent a note to Lancaster House, informing Phipps that he’d be arriving much later. He and Will had already made their stop at the Horse Guards to collect Ashby’s new rank, so he was free for the next three days. After that it was back to hell, but not before he paid a visit to a certain lady. Tomorrow, he determined, he would go to Ashby Park to see Olivia. His heart warmed at the prospect. Olivia had hinted on more than one occasion that were he ever to propose, she wouldn’t wait till after the war to have the wedding. She’d also let him know that she wouldn’t mind not waiting in other respects as well, should they agree upon a later date in which to take their vows. This was something he was not in a hurry to act upon. The last thing he cared to do was leave her with a fatherless child.
As they convened around the dinner table, Ashby noticed Isabel was missing.
“Gads, Ashby! Look at you!” Charles Aubrey, Viscount Stilgoe, gave him an appreciative once-over. “What are you—a major now? Impressive, old chap. Who’d have thought back in the merry old days at Cambridge that you’d become a war hero one day?”
Ashby nodded with a smile. “I’m still not over the shock, myself.” He leaned aside and in a hushed voice asked Will, “Where’s Izzy? She’s not dining with us?”
Will shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. She never misses dinner when you’re in attendance.” He looked across the table. “Theodora, Frederica, where’s your older sister?”
“In high dungeon!” Little Freddy announced, grunting sternly.
“In high dud-geon, puss,” Will rectified. “Where is she?”
“She’s very high, up in the attic with her new puppy,” Teddy informed everyone.
“No, she’s not!” Freddy disputed. “She’s in her bedchamber, but she said she wouldn’t come down to dinner until Mama agreed to let her keep the black puppy.” She turned pleading eyes onto her mother. “Can we have puppies, too, Mama?”
Lady Hyacinth sniffed. “No, you may not. And neither may Izzy. If she is more obstinate than hungry, she may just as well remain in her bedchamber until her condition reverses itself.”
“Perhaps I shall influence her to join us.” Ashby excused himself from the table and went upstairs. He wasn’t certain which of the girls’ chambers belonged to Izzy, so he padded quietly, listening for cooing noises. What he heard was the sound of a girl crying. He swallowed hard and knocked lightly on her door.
“Go away!” Isabel’s sniffling voice called out.
“It’s Ashby, Isabel. May I please come in?”
“You may not. I’m alone.”
Ashby shook his head, smiling. The chit was concerned with propriety. Hell, why not? He was a man; she had every right to view herself as a young lady. “I’ll leave the door open, then.”
“All right.” She sniffed.
He found her sitting on the floor, fiddling with the padded basket. Her large blue eyes were red; her nose puffy. Leaving the door half open, he strolled in. “Where’s the little black devil?” he inquired, perusing her chamber. He’d never visited little chits’ chambers before, older ones’ yes, but those didn’t have frilly pink drapes and dolls on the bed.
“He’s hiding under the bed.” Izzy blew her nose in a handkerchief, not meeting his gaze. “Everyone was chasing after him and now he’s scared to death, poor thing.”
“He’s not scared.” Ashby sat on the floor beside her, one booted foot firm on the ground to support his hand on his knee. “He’s too young to know the meaning of fear. He probably thought it was all just a splendid game. He’ll come out soon. You’ll see.”
“I tried to lure him out, but he wouldn’t come. No doubt he’s afraid of me, too, now.”
Ashby glanced at the frilly pink bed. “Did you try tempting him with food?”
She indicated a small cup of milk put on the floor close to the bed. “He won’t touch it.”
One day he’d have a daughter just like her, Ashby thought with pleasure. “Don’t you think you are overreacting a bit? He is a dog, Izzy.”
“He’s my responsibility.”
“He is your responsibility because you chose to make him that.”
“Yes, I did.” Lifting her head, her glorious mane exploded into fiery curls as coppery and golden as the sunset; her eyes blazed with emotion; her rounded cheeks glowed with heat; her plump lips trembled with fury. “We can’t all put blindfolds over our eyes and pretend we do not see the suffering out there. Or worse, rely on someone else to dispose of the problem. The little dog has no one in the entire world, Ashby. Is it at all graspable to you?”
His throat constricted. A little girl—whom was he fooling? She was a little woman with the potential to ensnare any man’s heart, mind, and soul. “Why is your mother adamantly against your adopting the little dog?”
“My mother fears he’ll ruin her furniture,” she