Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (8 page)

Victoria shot him a mock glare. “Unfortunately they were not, but most of the blame rests upon Buttercup, who simply refused to wear them.”

“You named your cat
Buttercup?
” He twisted his face into a comical look.

“From what I’ve heard, you are hardly one to cast aspersions on the names of anyone else’s pets.”

“I suppose not, although in my defense, I’ve only named Boots and my dog. All the others came to me with names.”

“You could have changed the names, you know.”

“Would you like it if someone changed your name?”

“No, however
I
am not a barnyard animal.”

He touched his finger to his lips. “Shhhh. They don’t know they’re barnyard animals,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. “They think they are visiting royal dignitaries.”

Victoria fought back a smile at his nonsense. “I admit I know what you mean.
I
belong to Buttercup. She allows
me
to live in
her
house.”

“Yes, that’s the way it was with Boots the instant I brought her home. Settled right in and took over my favorite chair. Someone once told me that dogs have owners and cats have—”

“Servants,” she finished with a laugh. “Completely true. Was Boots a gift?”

“A patient offered as payment a kitten from his cat’s lat
est litter. I looked over the group, but I knew immediately that this little devil was the one.”

She glanced down at Boots. “I can see why it was a case of love at first sight. She’s darling. She reminds me of my Buttercup.”

“Buttercup is black and white?”

“Oh, no. She has the stripes of a tabby, but her fur is golden in color.”

“Ah, yes, I can see how she would remind you of Boots. The resemblance is striking.”

Victoria couldn’t help but laugh at his arid tone. “I meant because Buttercup enjoys being held in just this same way, and she falls asleep within minutes of being scratched behind her ears.”

“Something many animals enjoy, as it is a difficult spot for them to reach themselves.”

“Tell me, Dr. Oliver, why was ‘Puss in Boots’ your favorite tale?”

“Like you, I greatly admired the cat’s cleverness. My favorite part was always when he instructed his master to bathe in the river, then he hid his clothes under the rock and told the king not only that his master was drowning, but that thieves had stolen his clothes.”

Victoria chuckled. “Quite a sight for the king and his daughter to witness.”

“Indeed. And a clever way to ensure that his master’s ragged clothes weren’t seen by the royals. Although, I’ve always wondered if the princess fell in love with the master because he looked so handsome wearing the rich clothing her father lent him—or because she’d seen him naked.”

Victoria tried to smother a laugh but wasn’t entirely successful. She looked up at him and saw the glittering mischief in his eyes. Before she could think of a suitable
reply, he said, “And the moral of the story always resonated with me.”

She considered for several seconds, then quoted, “‘There is great advantage in receiving a large inheritance, but diligence and ingenuity are worth more than wealth acquired from others.’”

He looked mildly surprised at her recitation, then nodded. “Suited my situation as the lowly second son rather well,” he murmured. “I found those words…inspiring.”

An odd feeling she couldn’t name washed through Victoria. Before she could figure out what it was, he added, “The other moral I admit I found quite shallow—that one’s clothes and appearance and youth play a role in matters of the heart.”

“Shallow, perhaps,” she conceded, “but true nonetheless. I believe it is human nature to be attracted to that which is beautiful. After all, not only was the master very handsome, but the princess was described as the most beautiful young lady in the world.”

“True. However, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Would the princess have fallen in love with the handsome hero if she’d seen him wearing his poor man’s clothes?”

“I don’t know.” Some inner devil made her add, “But if your theory holds true, she fell in love with him because she saw him wearing
no
clothes.”

He laughed. “Yes. But it does beg the question: If all the accoutrements of wealth and privilege were stripped away, leaving nothing but the true person exposed, would that person still be loved? Admired? Sought after? I think not.”

“A rather cynical view.”

“No, merely a realistic one. Take yourself as an example, Lady Victoria. You father is currently entertaining offers from not one, but two earls. If either man was
suddenly stripped of his wealth, position, and title, would you still consider marrying him?”

There was no mistaking the challenge in his gaze, and a fissure of irritation wound through Victoria. “You make it sound as if there is something wrong with a woman wishing to marry well.”

“Not at all. I’m merely challenging the definition of ‘well.’ Has it more to do with one’s title, wealth, and position, or with one’s character, honor, and integrity?”

“Surely those things are not exclusive to each other. One can be titled and wealthy and still possess honor and integrity.”

“Naturally. But if faced with choosing one or the other…an interesting dilemma. Personally, I think that if the fairy tale’s most beautiful princess in the world had seen the master in his ragged clothes and hadn’t been tricked into believing he was wealthy, she would never have given him a second glance.”

“One can hardly fault a princess for that.”

“I suppose not. But it was still the master’s outward appearance that she fell in love with—not the man himself. Therefore, the story makes a case for the theory that appearances do indeed play a role in matters of the heart.”

There was something in his tone that aroused Victoria’s curiosity, and she suddenly wondered if there was a woman who owned his heart. The thought unsettled her in a way she couldn’t define, then a frown burrowed between her brows. If he were committed to someone, that could wreak havoc with her plans.

“I gather that means that when you choose a wife you shall do so with a blindfold tied around your eyes,” she remarked lightly, watching him closely. “Or have you already chosen someone?”

He shook his head and grinned. “No blindfold—I might mistakenly choose a potted gardenia, thinking the lady smelled nice and was delightfully reserved. And no, I haven’t settled on a wife. I don’t even know if I shall marry at all. Since I’m not the heir nor in need of securing an heiress to pay off gambling debts or things of that sort, I’ve no reason to marry—except for love.”

In spite of her relief at his single status, Victoria’s brows shot up. “Love? I wouldn’t have thought spies were so…sentimental.”

“I don’t know where you’ve gotten these notions about spies, Lady Victoria. Torrid novels, perhaps? My reason has just as much to do with logic as sentiment. Since I do not need to produce an heir nor add to the family coffers, why would I consider pledging my life to one woman unless I loved her?”

“How very…unfashionable.”

“In the exalted circles in which you socialize, yes, I’m certain it is. However, ’tis quite common once one steps away from the glitter of Society. Besides, I care nothing for what’s fashionable. Never have. I would never allow the capricious rules of Society to dictate with whom I spend the rest of my life.” He shook his head. “I actually pity Colin the marital responsibilities being the heir forces upon him. I have freedoms he will never know.”

Victoria digested his words with no small degree of surprise. She’d never before considered that a younger son wouldn’t envy the heir his title and position. Before she could give the matter full consideration, however, she noted that they were nearing the stables. Her gaze settled on the structure he’d built alongside the stables for his animals. And her eyes widened.

A pair of ducks flapped through the open door, then
waddled quickly toward them. They were followed by a cow, an enormous pig, and a goat—a goat that had what appeared to be pigeon perched on its back. The entire group broke into a trot. Victoria halted and stared. Dr. Oliver kept walking, then looked over his shoulder and laughed.

“I wish you could see your face, Lady Victoria. Your expression is priceless.”

“It looks as if they’re about to attack you.”

“Not at all. They’re simply saying good morning—enthusiastically, as I am the one who feeds them.”

Victoria remained exactly where she was, preferring to observe from a distance and cuddle Boots. She watched in amazement as Dr. Oliver was “greeted” by the group of animals. The ducks quacked noisily and pecked at his boots, while the pig rubbed against his legs much like a cat. The cow let out a plaintive
moooooo
, then swiped Dr. Oliver’s hand with a huge tongue, causing Victoria to wrinkle her nose. The goat gently prodded Dr. Oliver’s backside toward the pen, while the bird seated on the goat’s back, which Victoria realized was indeed an enormously fat pigeon, cooed and ruffled its feathers.

Dr. Oliver patted them, chatting as if they were children rather than beasts—beasts, who by the ripe scent wafting toward her, were all in dire need of a bath.

“Come along,” he said to the group, leading them back toward Victoria. “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Victoria—”

“That isn’t necessary,” Victoria said hastily, backing up and warily eyeing the goat, who was showing a great deal of interest in the lace ruffles adorning her wrists.

Dr. Oliver halted and, damnation, she could see he was wholly amused at her expense. “After your impressive
performance last evening, I hadn’t thought you a coward, Lady Victoria.”

She raised her chin and, due to the gamey odor in the air, breathed in through her mouth. “I am
not
a coward. I am simply not fond of animals that…outweigh me. And smell…peculiar.” She lifted Boots up a bit. “I’m simply more of a cat person than a goat person.”

“Are you fond of dogs?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“Excellent, as you are about to meet B.C.”

“Who is—
eeeeyiiiii!
” Victoria stumbled forward when she was firmly nudged right in the center of her buttocks. After regaining her footing, she whirled around and found herself facing the most massive dog she had ever seen. Light brown, with darker markings and a black, jowly muzzle, the monster stood regally, observing her through wide-set, dark brown eyes that bore an alert but hopefully kind expression. The top of the giant’s head reached her chest. She forced herself to remain perfectly still while the beast raised his head to sniff the air, his nose quivering.

“Lady Victoria, may I introduce B.C.”

“Wh-What does B.C. stand for?” she asked, guessing that the the B was for either “behemoth” or “buttocks.”

“Boot chewer. Consider yourself forewarned, although I must say it is his only bad habit.”

“D-Delighted,” she murmured, slowly backing up several steps, alarmed when B.C. kept pace with her. She hit something solid and stopped. Large hands clasped her upper arms from behind and she realized that the something solid she’d hit was Dr. Oliver.

“I thought you said you liked dogs,” came his amusement-laced voice directly next to her ear.

Warmth from his hands eased down her arms, a stun
ning contrast to the tingling sensation his rich, deep voice so close to her ear invoked. Her shoulder blades brushed against his chest and she had to lock her knees to keep from leaning back fully into him.

“I do like dogs,” she said, her gaze locked on the massive beast in front of her. “But that is not a dog. That is more like a small…bear.”

He chuckled, his warm breath brushing over her neck, awakening sensitive nerve endings on her bare skin. He released her, then moved to stand beside her. Although he no longer touched her, the heated imprint of his hands lingered, and she gave thanks that she still held Boots, lest she brush her fingers over the warm spot where he’d held her. B.C. immediately trotted to his master, his tail wagging.

After patting the dog’s massive head, Dr. Oliver said, “Let’s do this properly, shall we, boy? Sit.” B.C.’s bottom instantly hit the grass. “Shake.” The dog raised a forepaw the size of a plate. “He wishes to formally make your acquaintance.”

Victoria eyed the dog suspiciously. “He’s gentle?”

“Like a lamb.”

“Sadly I, um, have no experience with lambs to know if they’re gentle or not. Oh, they sound gentle, but for all I know, they might be snarling, snapping beasts—”

“B.C. is extremely gentle.”

“He looks as if he could eat my torso for an hors d’oeuvre. Tell me, are all your animals so very
large
? Have you nothing smaller?”

His lips twitched. “Not in a dog I’m afraid.”

Determined to wipe the amusement from that grinning mouth, Victoria swallowed her trepidation, then extended her hand to shake the proffered paw. After she released the massive paw, B.C. lowered it to the ground, leaving her
hand perfectly intact. In truth, he was a handsome animal and seemed friendly enough—a bit too friendly, based on the buttocks bump he’d treated her to—but his sheer size rendered him intimidating.

Another pungent whiff of barnyard beast roused her from her frozen position. Deciding she’d gained enough information for one morning, she slowly sidestepped toward the stables, her wary gaze fixed on Dr. Oliver’s herd. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go for my ride.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Lady Victoria?”

Good Lord, that goat was staring at her again. She quickened her pace. “Er, I don’t believe so.” To her dismay, Dr. Oliver, his handsome face creased with a wicked grin, started toward her. As if that weren’t alarming enough, his pungent herd promptly fell into step behind him.

“My Boots,” he said.

Her gaze flicked down to his scuffed footwear. “They’re…very fine. Need a bit of polish, but—”

“I meant my cat, Lady Victoria.” He continued moving toward her, his animals behind him—except the cow, who’d paused to munch on a bit of grass.

“Your
Boots
,” she said, coming to a reluctant halt and feeling foolish. She looked down at the sleeping kitten, curled so sweetly in the crook of her arm, and was swamped with a feeling of unreasonable, ridiculous possessiveness.