“But, miss-” Much as he disliked the fellow, Sammy would not support her.

“I'll call for the bailiff meself, I will-” the burly fellow's tone grew uglier by the minute “-and we'll see wot the law says about it. A body can't take a man's dog, ‘specially no girl!"

Louisa drew herself up and spoke with dignity. “You shall not intimidate me nor deter me from doing what I know to be right."

Then she spoiled the effect of her statement by sneezing. The burly man peered closer and snorted with laughter. Louisa tried to maintain her firm pose, but the dog's hair had tickled her nose and made it quite red. Even her eyes had begun to itch and water.

Desperate to make a sterner impression on the two men-for she could see that even Sammy had begun to lose patience with her-she said, “And, for your information, you shall not be dealing with me. My cousin will attend to you as soon as he returns from his errand. He is a marquess and travelling on the Regent's business."

She had not meant to drag Charles into the affair, but the claims of the puppy were surely more important than Charles's discretion. Besides, she felt confident that Charles would feel exactly as she did.

She sneezed again and tried to hold the puppy away from her, but when she did, it started to whimper. She realized, too, that such a gesture might suggest a willingness to give the dog up, and that Louisa was earnestly determined not to do, so she hugged the creature tighter.

By this time, Mrs. Spadger and a big lad who looked as if he might be her son had heard the commotion and come outside to investigate. While the stranger expostulated, Sammy explained the situation to his wife, who expressed her indignation at the bully but could not bring herself to take Louisa's side. Both she and her husband seemed to have too great a respect for the laws of ownership to overlook them.

Louisa was too overcome by another fit of sneezing to argue just then, but she found an unexpected champion in the Spadgers’ son. For when the burly man reached for the puppy and would have wrenched it from her, he was confronted by a huge pair of fists.

Sammy put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

“Leave off now, Jim-hold on, son."

“If you will only wait for my cousin… achoo!… he will take care of all… achoo! Oh, damn!” Louisa was driven to profanity by her sneezes, which seemed to have become uncontrollable. Her throat was thickening and throbbing, and minute by minute she found it more difficult to breathe. But she refused to relinquish the trusting puppy, which had begun to plaster sticky, wet kisses on her face.

Louisa prayed that Charles would come soon.

Though she considered entrusting the dog to one of the Spadgers, at least for the moment, any one of them might decide to give the creature back to its tormentor. She could not risk it.

The burly man had raised his fists when confronted by Jim's, and now pushed past him to make a grab for the puppy. A shoving match followed, which Louisa would have stopped if only she could stop sneezing.

It was with desperate relief that she heard Charles's cool voice carrying over the snow. “What in the devil's name is going on?"

Charles had approached the inn in a warm haze, caused in large part by Ned's brandy. But the cold of the night air had just started to seep through his overcoat, and he had begun to look forward to a dinner with Louisa.

He remembered the punch she had told the innkeeper to prepare for him the night before, and he wondered whether she would do so again. Somehow the thought that she might not think of it was more disturbing than the thought of actually missing the punch.

He was just about to ponder the meaning of this when the scene in front of the inn caught his eye: a crowd of people it seemed, and in its centre, Louisa, holding what looked like a fur muff to her exposed bosom.

A feeling of dread stole over him, even as he questioned her choice of attire.

He spurred his horse and called out in as cool a voice as he could muster. He had no doubt Louisa had done something foolish and that he would have to pay for it. A feeling of betrayal ran through him-couldn't she keep out of trouble for one hour? But as he dismounted, his anger was mollified by the sight of tears in her eyes as she turned to him with a rapturous smile.

“Charles! Thank heaven, you've come!"

She hurried to him and thrust her muff into his hands. Charles caught the bundle, fresh from the warmth of her bosom, and stared down at her. Even in the lantern's dim light, he could see the rosy imprint it had left on her flesh, from the bottom of her chin down to the neckline of her gown. His eyes were then drawn to its thin material, through which evidence of the chill she was suffering was prominently visible. The sight brought heat to Charles's face as he remembered Ned's advice.

He stared and swallowed. But then the bundle he had taken for a muff began to squirm, and he realized it had claws. Instinctively, he grabbed for it before it could topple from his arms. Then he held it to the light.

“A puppy! Louisa, what is this about?"

The dog whined, so he brought it close to his chest again and stroked it. This treatment seemed to work, so while Louisa explained herself between sneezes, Charles absently ran his fingers through the dog's hair. After a few moments, the creature stopped squirming and settled happily against his coat.

By this time, the rest of the crowd had surrounded them. Sammy and Nan hovered in the background, while a heavy, low sort of fellow shouted that Louisa had taken his dog.

“Nonsense!” Charles said, though he realized in saying it that he had no basis for sounding so certain. He did not know Louisa, after all, though he could hardly admit that in front of the Spadgers. He had better sound as if he believed what he said, and in any event he had taken an instant dislike to the burly fellow.

“If this is your dog,” he said coolly, “it can be returned to you promptly. There is no cause to shout."

He held out the dog to the man, but Louisa, still sneezing, threw herself between them. She caught the dog and pressed it back into Charles's arms, then clasped him by the shoulders.

“You mustn't do that, Charles!” She turned her head and made explosive noises. “Oh, excuse me! I am so sorry! But you mustn't-"

“Here.” Charles transferred the puppy to one hand and reached inside his coat for his handkerchief. “What are you doing outside, anyway, without your wrap?"

Louisa took the handkerchief from him and said, “That doesn't matter now. What matters is that this-” she gestured towards the man with contempt “-this monster will abuse the dog if you give it back. I think he stole it!"

“Now, sir-” Sammy Spadger finally came forward. “T’ lass is upset, an’ reetly so, but there's nowt ta say t’ dog wor pinched. What I can say, an’ will say, is that t’ man did harm t’ dog."

Charles had grasped the situation now. He sighed with impatience. “Louisa, you cannot take a man's belongings no matter how vilely he treats them. I understand your outrage, but-"

Louisa stepped back from him, looking as if he had struck her. Her reddened eyes filled with tears. “Charles-” her voice trembled with disappointment “-I was so certain you would save it."

Charles had frozen in mid-sentence; the weight of her dismay had fallen like a stone into the pit of his stomach. Louisa's eyes were rimmed in red. Her bosom was flushed with pink, and it heaved with a most painful breathing. The burden of her disillusion threatened to sink him into the ground.

The heavyset stranger stepped forward to jerk the dog out of his arms. Charles withheld it and gave him a withering glance.

“This matter has not been resolved."

A gasp of pleasure burst from Louisa's lips.

“Oh, Charles!"

He could not resist casting a look in her direction. The weight on his chest began to lift rapidly when he saw the sparkle in her eyes.

“How much do you want for the dog?"

The fellow started, surprised, but not displeased.

“ ‘Ow much?” he said. Charles could see the calculation going on behind his furtive eyes. “Well, ‘ers a good ‘untin’ dog. I figures-"

“I'll give you ten shillings.” Charles reached inside his pocket and threw some coins at the man, who started to protest. “Ten shillings, and no enquiry into where the dog came from."

This silenced the stranger immediately. He tried to slink off into the dark, but Louisa had cause of her own to protest. She grabbed for his sleeve.

“Pay the man? Charles, how can you pay such a scoundrel when it's plain he's a criminal? Why only the most debased sort of-"

“Louisa…” Charles took her hand off the man's sleeve and forced the puppy back into her arms. Then be removed his overcoat and spread it about her shoulders.

“You've been outside much too long,” he told her, guiding her to the door. “It's time for this business to be concluded and for you to come inside by the fire before you come down with a serious chill. Your nose is already red."

“It's not the cold,” Louisa said, allowing him to shepherd her inside, “it's the dog.” She thrust the puppy back into his arms again. “I shall be quite all right if you hold it from now on."

Halfway down the corridor, Charles halted and gaped at her. “The dog?"

“Yes, Charles,” Louisa said lightly. “I do not know what it is, for I love animals. But every time I come too close to a dog or a cat I begin to sneeze."

On this surprising note, in which he detected no irony, Louisa hurried him into the private parlour and excused herself on the grounds that she must go up to her room to repair the damage the dog had done.

Stunned by this revelation, and by Louisa's obstinacy in rescuing the dog in spite of her affliction, Charles fell into a chair by the fire. Sammy Spadger came into the room to heap the grate with coals, for it was plain to see that both its occupants would need a thorough drying out.

Emerging from his reverie, Charles instructed him to have the bags he had brought from Lord Conisbrough's house taken up to Louisa.

“Then yor lordship's servants wor there as tha said?"

“ Huh? What? Oh, yes!"

Since this latest episode, Charles had forgotten the story they had told the Spadgers. But Sammy sounded so relieved that his faith in the marquess and his cousin had not been misplaced that Charles turned to the matter once more. “My cousin's bags had been delivered,” he said. “She might prefer to change before coming down to dinner."

“Mrs. Spadger'll see to it reet away, sir. Would tha like me ta take t’ dog?"

Charles glanced down at the puppy in his lap.

It had fallen asleep along the open palm of his hand, as if the past half hour's struggle had been far too much for its young body. It lay in an attitude of complete abandon, sprawled on its back as only a young animal can lie, its front paws flopped over his thumb, its hind paws splayed outwards exposing its pink underbelly. Charles noticed the creature was a female, though he might have suspected so by the length of its eyelashes-some sort of black-and-white spaniel with remarkably long lashes.

Something stirred inside him, and he did not answer until Sammy repeated his question.

“Sir?"

“You may leave her here,” Charles said. He cleared his throat and said in a firmer voice, “I shall have to see what my cousin intends to do with it. The dog is hers, after all."

“Aye, yor lordship. And reetly so, t’ way she stood up ta that bully. If tha'll excuse me, I will say this. T’ lass has got a good heart, that she has."

Sammy bowed himself out of the room, leaving Charles to reflect on how Louisa had managed to charm the last suspicions from the Spadgers’ minds.

He was determined, however, to show no more weakness, so he resisted the impulse to gaze at the dog. Of all things for Louisa to saddle him with, he fumed in order to rally himself. He had dogs, of course. Every gentleman had hunting dogs, but they were of his own choosing, carefully bred for the purpose. Charles had no need for a dog who could not pull its own weight.

And this one, draped over his wrist like a lady's shawl, would undoubtedly prove to be a mixture of breeds, completely untrainable-as flighty, in fact, as Louisa herself.


* * * *

By the time Louisa arrived back downstairs, Charles had worked himself into a state of mild resentment, tempered by the cramp the puppy's weight had started in his wrist. He did not shift it, however. Looked at logically, his discomfort was due not to the puppy at all, but to Louisa, who had caused it to be there in the first place. No reason to take his temper out on a helpless creature when one so capable stood readily by.