Free Fortune Favors the Wicked by Theresa Romain Page A

across which Maggie backed, waggling a stick before Captain.
    Charlotte spread her shawl and sat upon it. “Stay away from the Selwyn lands,” she called.
    The girl nodded. She tossed the stick, and Captain’s head listed with interest—but the old hound’s flesh was weak, and she could do no more than trot in the direction of the thrown stick, beloved young mistress alongside.
    Four years before, when she’d last visited Strawfield, Charlotte had made the mistake of bringing along a puppy. It was a curly-coated Pudel she had coaxed from a German admirer; she had been fascinated by its unusual appearance. After tying a great blue silk bow around its neck, she’d presented the fluffy black and white dog to Maggie. He will keep you company, dearest, in case anything happens to Captain .
    Maggie did not stop crying until the puppy was taken from the vicarage.
    Charlotte brought it to the only other person who could be permitted to know of the Pudel ’s origins: Edward Selwyn, whose visit to Strawfield unhappily coincided with hers. He promised that his children would love it. This earned him the sort of withering glance such a remark deserved, and he laughed. “My other children.”
    Another withering glance. She had asked Edward time and again never to speak of such matters, especially since his marriage to the frosty Lady Helena.
    The other dog of Charlotte’s youth, Frippery, had loved her. Captain had for Charlotte only the sort of vague fondness a dog had for anyone who treated it well. And Maggie’s was the human equivalent: that dutiful liking a child possessed for a relative one hardly knew.
    If Charlotte could make Captain love her, though, perhaps Maggie’s love would follow.
    â€œMay I throw the stick for her?” she called.
    Maggie hesitated, shoving unruly hair back from her face. “I’m not done yet, Aunt Charlotte. I want to throw it some more.”
    â€œOh.” Charlotte smiled, hiding the pain that was much larger than the small size of the girl’s no . “That’s fine. You throw very well.”
    Maggie tossed the stick into the air and caught it, then ran closer to Charlotte. “I taught Captain some tricks. Want to see? She can lie down whenever I say the words.”
    Many other times, too, Charlotte thought, as the old hound rolled onto her belly.
    â€œOh, look! She must have heard what I said.” Maggie walked back to stand above her pet. “Up, girl! Up to catch the stick, Captain!”
    As Captain heaved herself up, the front door opened, and a booted tread descended onto the stoop. “That dog outranks me. I feel I ought to salute her.”
    Charlotte smiled. “Hullo, Mr. Frost. I don’t think Captain will care if you salute her, but Maggie would like it.”
    â€œYour mother is not yet ready to surrender the noctograph back to my keeping. May I join you?”
    â€œPlease. I have spread a shawl on the grass, if you would care to sit beside me.”
    Without pause or hesitation, he took the single step down and strode toward her. He was a noticing sort of man, and a remembering sort, too. It seemed no detail went unfiled or forgotten, and he made his way through the world with unassuming grace.
    Twenty-four hours ago, she had not known this man. Now he was in possession of her greatest secret.
    Well, one of them.
    She did not know what sort of person he was. But she thought—she hoped—that he would hold her trust as the fragile, precious thing it was.
    When he folded himself onto the shawl beside her, her breath came a little more quickly, her stays tight about her breasts.
    â€œMiss Perry,” he murmured, “I rescued some gristly beef from the kitchen before coming outdoors. May I offer it to the hound?”
    Thus winning the heart of both beast and girl. If only Charlotte had thought of that. “What a good idea. Of course. A dog of Captain’s age should have treats