Her Heart's Choice Rose Pearson

Visit to download the full and correct content document:

https://ebookmass.com/product/her-hearts-choice-rose-pearson/
HER HEART’S CHOICE: A
REGENCY ROMANCE
LOST FORTUNES, FOUND LOVE (BOOK 3)
ROSE PEARSON
 CONTENTS

Her Heart’s Choice

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
My Dear Reader

A Sneak Peek of A Lady’s Christmas Kiss

Prologue
Chapter 1

Join my Mailing List

HER HEART’S CHOICE
 PROLOGUE

E verything was a haze of heat and blood, the groan emitting

from his lips only a distant echo. Nothing made any clear
sense as Gideon fought for control.
Somebody was thrusting something into his hand, and he tried to
speak, tried to ask for help, but all that came out was a low noise
that he barely recognized as his voice. And all the while, the ache in
his shoulder grew worse.
“You must sign this. The doctor will not see you unless you do.”
Even that made very little sense. Gideon squeezed his eyes closed,
battling through darkness and pain to align his thoughts. Why should
the surgeon refuse to come to the aid of a gentleman? It was not as
though he did not have the money to pay. All the more
disorientated, Gideon opened his eyes and tried to focus on the face
in front of him, but it was naught but a blur. “Sign it.”
The voice was darker this time, the words louder. Trying to work
out whether he was sitting or standing, Gideon turned his head as
something was pushed into his hand. He blinked rapidly in an
attempt to clear his vision. Was that a quill he now held? Why would
his fingers not clamp around it with their usual strength?
No further questions could even be considered for, at that very
moment, something pressed on his shoulder, and he let out a
scream of pain.
“Sign this, or you shall die here without the surgeon ever having
come to your aid.”
 The pain brought a sudden sharpness to his vision but, even
then, Gideon could not comprehend what was taking place. Without
being fully aware of what he was doing, his fingers clumsily etched
out his signature as he struggled to focus on the paper in front of
him. His mind was screaming with confusion, terrified that the threat
would come to pass if he did not do otherwise. In an instant, the
pain in his shoulder lessened, but the circumstances did not become
any clearer. Someone was moving him, someone was leading him
somewhere – and then cold air ran across his skin.
He fell back heavily, another jolt of pain slicing through his head.
“The surgeon.”
His agonized, desperate call for help was only a broken whisper
and, as his vision blurred again, Gideon was trapped in a dreadful
fear that he was to be left entirely alone until death slowly beckoned
him. He fought desperately to open his eyes, catching a glimpse of
what looked like a red-framed door. But his strength began to fail
him, even as he battled to work out where he was, and who had
been speaking to him – and after but a few moments, everything
faded to darkness.

I t was pain that brought him back. Terrifying and overwhelming

darkness had pulled him in, but now it was with relief that he slowly
came back to himself.
“You have returned to us.” A voice pressed in at his
consciousness, forcing him back all the more quickly. “We have been
so very worried.”
Something cool was pressed against his forehead, but Gideon
forced his eyes to open. Taking in heavy breaths, he attempted to
push himself up, only for the pain to shoot down his right side. It
took him some moments to gather himself, but when his gaze finally
cleared, he recognized three of his friends who had been with him
during the previous evening’s gambling.
 “What has happened? His voice was hoarse and dry, but he
urged himself to sit up again, pushing away the cool compress as he
gritted his teeth against the pain. “Where am I?”
“You are in your townhouse. Someone attacked you last
evening.” Lord Wiltsham spread his hands, his expression pinched. “I
myself have only just recovered from my stupor, although you have
a good deal more to deal with.”
“Attacked me?” Sitting up a little more, Gideon accepted the glass
of water from his servant’s hand, taking a long draught. “I do not
understand.”
His body felt weak and tired, but his mind simply refused to let
him free.
“You recall that we went to the East End of London last evening?
It was on Lord Gillespie’s recommendation.”
“Yes, I do recall it. I do not recall if he stayed to play with us,
however.”
“Nor do I.” Lord Pottinger put in, as Gideon frowned at the pallor
on his friend’s face. “In fact, I do not believe that any of us can
recall where Lord Gillespie went, once he had directed us to those
‘copper hells’.”
“That does not mean anything, does it?”
Still struggling to understand what his friends were saying.
Gideon winced as he shifted slightly, his shoulder aching terribly.
Lord Gillespie was a close acquaintance, known to all of them as a
gentleman of good character, which was why he could not
understand the dark expression on each of their faces. Had they
wished to enjoy the evening elsewhere? Or perhaps they had not
been as successful in their gambling as Lord Gillespie had suggested.
He tried to shrug, then immediately regretted it.
“You must be careful of that shoulder,” Lord Wiltsham muttered.
“As much as it pains you, there is yet more to say, which I fear will
pain you all the more. Your shoulder will heal. But the injury I am
about to reveal to you now will not so easily mend. “
Concern grew and Gideon shifted forward on his feet, ignoring
the stab of pain which came with it.
“What are you speaking of?”
 “Thus far we have all discovered that our wealth is gone.”
Gideon blinked rapidly.
“I do not understand what you mean.”
Lord Pottinger ran one hand down his face and Gideon’s stomach
twisted, the pain in his shoulder no longer appearing to be of any
significance.
Lord Wiltsham threw up his hands, then let them fall.
“Last evening I evidently signed my fortune over to a Baron
March, whose name I do not recognize. He has taken every single
coin that I possess. I have nothing left.”
“Mine is gone also, although not quite under the same
circumstances,” Lord Silverton stated, his voice so quiet that Gideon
strained to make out the words. “I very much fear that you will find
yourself in the same situation.
“For that is the situation I am in also,” added Lord Thornbridge,
who had not spoken as yet.
The white of his face contrasted with his dark, shadowed eyes
and red slash of his mouth.
Gideon’s own fears began to grow as he closed his eyes before
taking a deep breath. Everything was still clouded at the edges. He
could not seem to fully grasp all that was being said to him, and yet
his stomach was churning uncontrollably as an overwhelming sense
of dread clutched at his heart.
Could it be true? Had he lost everything?
 CHAPTER ONE

“M y dear girl. How are you?”

Lady Sara sat quietly, staring down at her hands
as they clasped gently in her lap. She could not give
any answer to her mother’s question. The shock was still much too
great.
“But…” Shaking her head, she struggled to find the words, tears
building in her eyes. “How could he do such a thing? How can this
be?”
“It is disgraceful, of course.” Reaching out, her mother squeezed
her fingers lightly. “I am glad you are not to wed him, my dear. He is
clearly a gentleman without scruples.”
“I… I do not understand.” The tears formed far too quickly, too
fast for her to blink him all away, trickling down onto her cheeks as
she fought for breath. “How can this be so?”
Her mother shook her head.
“There is no particular reason, my dear girl, other than to say
that he is a gentleman who is unworthy of you. I can only hope that
he will not have a single moment of happiness for the rest of his
days, for what he has done to you.” Her mother placed a lace
handkerchief in Sara’s hand, and it took her a few moments to
realize what it was, and what she was meant to do with it. The
shock ran like lightning through her veins, refusing to free her,
refusing to allow her to think clearly. How could Lord Coatbridge do
such a thing to her? He had promised her so much, and was now
abandoning her entirely, leaving her with nothing. “I wish I could say
or do something which would take away your pain at present.” Her
mother’s voice rasped, and she was feeling the pain of all that Sara
was enduring. “It is a disgrace, nothing less. No gentleman should
court a young lady and then take himself from her to declare his
betrothal to another!”
To hear it spoken of again in such clear terms sent an arrow
straight through Sara’s heart. Her breath came in uneven gasps as
she squeezed her eyes closed, trying desperately not to break down
into yet more furious tears.
“Oh, my dear.” Her mother squeezed her hand again. “My words
were not wisely chosen. Forgive me for my inconsideration.”
“It is not you that I need to forgive, Mama. In truth, I can barely
take it in! Only yesterday he was sitting in this very room declaring
that he cared for me more than ever before. How can he then go on
to decide that he is betrothed to another young lady only a few
hours later? And how could she accept him, if they have not been
courting? I cannot understand it.”
“Nor can I.” There were tears in her mother’s voice. “I was quite
sure he was to propose to you very soon. I thought we would be
together packing your wedding chest. Instead, we shall be left with
the ton asking many questions, wondering why he has set you aside,
why he has turned from you to favor another.”
Sara shook her head wordlessly, suddenly afraid that her
reputation was about to suffer a great deal at Lord Coatbridge’s
hands. Where she had thought him considerate, it now appeared
that he was thoughtless. Where she had thought him generous, he
was selfish. She had believed that he cared for her deeply, but this
betrothal proved that there was not even a hint of affection on his
part. He had forgotten her already, set her aside so that he might
wed another.
“This Lady Nora, whoever she may be, will be nothing compared
to you, I am quite sure.”
Sara did not even lift her head.
“If that was true, Mama, then he would have chosen to betroth
himself to me and not to her.”
 Lady Longford opened her mouth but then closed it again tightly.
She turned her head away, and silence built between them. That
silence did not last long - her mother broke it soon after.
“It will be because of her dowry, or whatever fortune her father
is willing to give his daughter. There will be some reason for it, my
dear. It is not that you are lacking in any way.”
The truth did not bring any comfort to Sara’s broken heart.
Despite telling herself that the man meant nothing to her, and that
she had no need to feel any such torment, she found her tears
insisting that they remain rather than flee as she had hoped. Lord
Coatbridge had been eager in his attentions towards her, and the
fact that he had asked to court her so soon after their introduction
had sent both excitement and anticipation through Sara in a way
that she had never before experienced. She had believed herself
quite safe in allowing herself such feelings, for he had promised her
that they would soon be betrothed, such was the depth of his own
feelings. Now, it seemed that he had been playing her for a fool.
“You must go on into the Season with your head held high.” Her
mother spoke with great determination, her thoughts already on the
weeks ahead, rather than the present circumstances. “Everyone will
be watching you. They will be eager to see how you respond to this,
particularly given that Lord Coatbridge will be present also. You must
give them no cause for gossip. Laugh and smile as if you are just as
you have always been. There must not be a single trace of sadness
in your expression, even though you will be feeling quite the
opposite inside.”
Sara shook her head.
“I cannot go into society for some time, I fear. I need time to
consider all that has taken place.”
Her mother shook her head.
“No. We are to attend this evening, just as we have planned.”
Sara’s head shot up.
“Mama, I cannot. It is much too soon for me, given that I have
only just heard this dreadful news. My heart is still too sick with
pain.”
Her mother tossed her head.
 “Nonsense. It will appear that you are greatly affected by his
betrothal if you remain at home, and then a more gossip would be
said about you. That would not be a wise decision to take, my dear.
We must show society that you are not affected by this in any way
whatsoever.”
“But I am affected. Deeply, deeply, affected.”
“Be that as it may, you will hide that from everyone,” her mother
instructed firmly. “I know that the ton will be fully aware of his
betrothal and there will be whispers about you already, of course.
We cannot allow them to grow, so therefore, you must present a
happy front to make certain that everyone believes there was
nothing of any consequence between you. Only then will I be
satisfied. Your heart may be broken, my dear, but your reputation
must be protected.”
Sara looked away. She could do nothing but agree with her
mother. The lady would not stand for any sort of refusal on her part.
Despite her own misgivings, and in spite of her own wishes, she
would have to attend the ball this evening, putting on as many
pretty smiles as she could, hoping that society would accept the lie
that she was presenting them.
“Very well.”
Her mother beamed as this was the end of her troubles, as if this
single agreement would resolve her difficulties and send light into
her future.
“Good. This is exactly what we need at this moment. Do not
allow his behavior to ruin your chances of future happiness.”
Wiggling one finger at Sara, her mother rose to ring the bell for tea.
“You know very well that gentlemen in society will not be eager to
court a young lady whose heart still belongs to another.”
“Lord Coatbridge did not steal my heart, mama.” Sitting up a little
straighter, Sara shot a firm look towards her mother. “I will not
pretend that my heart has not been affected, but I certainly did not
love him. I cared for him, at least, but it was nothing more than
that.”
Although I believe it came very close to it.
 “I am glad to hear it,” her mother replied spiritedly. “We shall
certainly have no cause at all to remain at home this evening. I
expect you to be ready and prepared at the expected time. We will
not be tardy.”
Sara nodded, mute. Try as she might, she could not get rid of the
feeling that her reputation should be of lesser importance than her
heart. There was certainly a good deal of anger and upset lingering
within her heart, but there was also a great weight of pain. Pain that
she had been discarded without even a hint of consideration.
“I think I should like to take a short walk in the garden. Perhaps I
will rest for a time in the arbor.”
“An excellent idea,” her mother replied, a warm encouragement
in her voice. “I look forward to seeing you this evening - oh, and
make sure to wear one of your finest gowns.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Managing a quick smile, Sara walked to the door, her heart
pounding furiously as she fought against a cresting wave of emotion.
It was not until she reached her bedchamber, however, that she
broke down completely. Tears ran down her cheeks and she made
no effort to dash any of them away. Her mother was sympathetic,
certainly, but she was too concerned with reputation and was eager
to do all that she could to preserve it and have Sara restored to
society as quickly as possible.
Had Sara been given the choice, she would have remained at
home, resting quietly under the heavy load of sadness and sorrow.
Instead, she would be forced to push away everything that she felt
so that she might instead focus on appearing happy and contented
in front of those she cared very little about.
“I shall see him there this evening.” As she spoke aloud, the
misery cut to the very heart of the matter. She would be forced to
see, and perhaps even speak with, Lord Coatbridge. Perhaps he
might seek her out, wanting to make sure that there were no
particularly damaging rumors running through society that might
injure his newly betrothed. “I do not know if I will be able to speak
with him.”
 The memory of her laughing and speaking with Lord Coatbridge
struck a jarring pain through her again, but Sara dried her eyes on
her handkerchief and set it in her lap, her fingers playing with the
lace edge.
It had been true, what she had said to her mother - she was not
in love with him. Having never experienced such a great emotion,
she was quite certain that she could not be so, for there was no
great intensity of feeling which had risen up within her whenever
she had laid eyes on him. Her heart was broken, yes, but that was
due to the future he had offered her being torn away; the promises
that he had given her now completely broken. All of his words were
made meaningless, and her perception of his character was now
entirely shattered and would never be able to be restored again. She
would have to attend this evening, and see him with this new young
lady, knowing that everything he had ever told her, everything she
had ever believed, had been nothing more than a lie.
Yet despite my wish to stay at home, my mother insists that I
attend this evening so that I am forced to be in his company once
more.
Taking a deep breath, she set her shoulders and lifted her chin as
a flame of anger lit the edge of her sadness and upset. Her mother
should not be forcing her into this, but neither should Lord
Coatbridge have treated her with such disdain. Somehow, she was
going to have to find enough grace and courage to get through the
evening without losing either her composure or her temper… and
that might prove very difficult indeed.

T he sense of being quite at odds with everyone else in the room was
a rather unsettling one and Sara drew in great gulps of air in the
hope that she might be able to keep her emotions in check. Her face
was already sore from her fixed smile, and her hands were clenching
and unclenching as she walked around the room, hoping to keep to
the shadows. She was wearing her finest gown - at her mother’s
existence, of course - but her hair had taken so long to style that
she had almost fallen asleep in the chair. One large braid curved
from one side of her head to the other just above her forehead,
whilst smaller braids came from under it, pulling back until long curls
exploded, rushing down against her shoulders. Her eyes were clear,
but her smile remained forced. Sara was certain that she looked well
and certainly, no one would be able to state that Lady Sara had been
pale and wan.
“Good evening. Lady Sara.”
Sara started, whirling around and fully expecting to see some
gossip of the ton, eager to get to know exactly how she was feeling
at the news of Lord Coatbridge’s betrothal, but much to her relief,
that was none other than her dear friend, Miss Hannah Cartwright.
“Hannah.” Reaching out, she grasped her hand. “I am so very
glad to see you this evening.”
“I confess I am a little surprised to see you present. I would have
thought that you would want to remain at home this evening.”
Sara pulled a face.
“You have heard then?”
“Yes, I have done so. I believe almost everyone in society has
heard of Lord Coatbridge’s sudden betrothal. It is a little strange, is
it not? I thought that he was courting you!”
“As did I.” Sara tried to laugh but the sound did not quite come
out of her lips. “This has been a great shock to me. I would have
much preferred to remain at home and give myself the opportunity
to come to terms with this news. But Mama was most insistent that I
appear this evening. I believe she did not wish me to hide away,
thinking of my reputation, of course.”
“That must be difficult for you, however.” Looping one arm
through Sara’s, Hannah gave her a small smile. “But I am here with
you this evening. You shall be able to face whatever is thrown at
you, I am sure of it. You have enough strength of character to
endure.”
“I must hope so.” A slight wobble came into her voice, and she
looked away. “I shall tell you that I had come to care for Lord
Coatbridge. That may have been foolish of me, but after everything
that he promised me, I could not help but feel something. It was not
any sort of great love, at least, but I had been affected by what he
had promised me in terms of our future together.”
“I quite understand.” Hannah’s sympathetic voice was a balm to
her pain. “I can well understand that you wish to keep such feelings
hidden from everyone else, however. What he has done has been
the biggest betrayal.”
“I simply do not understand it. If there was an explanation, then
I might feel a little better, but as such there is not.”
“In that regard, his behavior has been very strange, I grant you.
I do not understand firstly, why he would turn his back on you and,
secondly, why he would betroth himself to someone else so very
quickly. There has been no obvious attachment between them, has
there?”
“There has been nothing whatsoever,” Sara agreed. “Not as far as
I was aware at least.”
“Not as far as the ton was aware either, otherwise it would not
have come as such a great surprise, and there would not be so
many tongues wagging.”
Sara rolled her eyes and Hannah sighed in sympathy.
“They are all eager to speak with you this evening. I am sure
that I have already heard at least three ladies stating that they are
certain you will be heartbroken. I was quick to reassure them that
you were a good deal more sensible than that.”
Sara smiled.
“Thank you for coming to my defense. Perhaps my mother was
right to insist that I attend this evening, loath as I am to admit it.”
“You must keep your head held high and a genial expression on
your face,” Hannah added. “They will all be looking at you.” She
stopped suddenly, her hand tightening on Sara’s arm. “Prepare
yourself, my dear. He has arrived.”
Even as Hannah tugged her into motion again, Sara did not need
to ask who she was talking about. Her stomach dropped to the floor
as they continued to promenade slowly around the room. She did
not look to the left, nor to the right, albeit with a tingling awareness
that Lord Coatbridge was present.
 “Where is he?” she hissed. “Can you see him?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hannah glance over her
shoulder, followed by a swift intake of breath.
“He is walking towards us,” came the reply. “And he is arm in arm
with his… betrothed.”
“Then we must walk a little more swiftly,” Sara determined. “Or
mayhap we ought to stand somewhere quietly so that he can pass
us and make his way to other guests within the ballroom, who are
no doubt eager to see him.”
She and Hannah were about to do the latter when a sudden,
familiar voice reached her ears.
“Good evening, Lady Sara. Good evening, Miss Cartwright.”
What struck her the most was the joviality with which he spoke,
appearing to indicate that he was very pleased to see her, whilst for
her, he was the last person she wished to be in company with.
Turning around, she kept her expression cool, despite her
mother’s warning that she ought to smile in such a situation. When
she met Lord Coatbridge’s eyes, one eyebrow arched as she looked
back into his face, seeing the slight flush which colored his cheeks.
“Good evening, Lord Coatbridge,” she murmured, entirely
unaware as to whether or not Hannah had already said this. “Please
introduce us to the young lady on your arm.”
She did not look at the young lady in question, but kept her gaze
fixed on Lord Coatbridge, who had now gone a deeper shade of red.
“But of course.” He cleared his throat, and his voice cracked a
little as he spoke. “This is Lady Nora. Her father is the Marquess of
Westerly.” As he spoke, his eyes turned towards the lady and he sent
her a warm smile, which then faded as he turned back toward Sara.
“Lady Nora, this is Lady Sara and her acquaintance, Miss Cartwright.”
From the warm smile on Lady Nora’s face, Sara did not think that
she had any knowledge of who she was, in relation to Lord
Coatbridge. In many ways, she felt rather sorry for the young lady, if
she did not know of their connection, nor the tension that swirled
between them now. Had she truly been naïve enough to believe that
Lord Coatbridge’s interest was genuine in its swiftness? Had she not
heard that Lord Coatbridge had been courting Sara for these last few
weeks? Perhaps she had not been in society for very long.
“Good evening, Lady Sara.” Lady Nora smiled, her eyes bright.
“You are well acquainted with Lord Coatbridge, I hear?”
There was a gentleness to her tone which had Sara wincing
inwardly. Did this creature truly believe that there was only an
acquaintance between herself and Lord Coatbridge? Was that what
she had been told?
“Yes, we are very well acquainted.” Glancing away from the
young lady, she looked towards Lord Coatbridge, a little surprised to
see him drop his head. Was he embarrassed over what he had
done? Ashamed, mayhap? Or was it more likely that he simply
wished to keep Lady Nora from knowing the truth? “In fact, Lord
Coatbridge and I were courting for a short while.”
Lord Coatbridge lifted his head sharply, his eyes meeting hers.
The red in his cheeks slowly changed to white as he stared at her,
but Sara did not care. The injury he had caused her had been so
great that she had no willingness now to remain silent and permit
him to merely enjoy the happiness which came with being Lady
Nora’s betrothed. Nor did she want Lady Nora to believe that there
was nothing of significance between herself and Lord Coatbridge.
The young lady deserved to know the truth, she decided.
“You… You were courting.” Lady Nora blinked, then forced a
smile that did nothing to take the shadows from her eyes. “That
must have been some time ago.”
Sara opened her mouth to say that it had been only yesterday
and up until today, she had believed they were still courting, only for
a gentle nudge to catch her attention.
“That is something I believe Lord Coatbridge can discuss with
you. Now is neither the time nor the place to be having such
discussions.” Miss Cartwright spoke quickly, irritating Sara with her
determination to move the conversation on. “My heartfelt
congratulations, Lady Nora. Pray excuse me. Excuse us.”
So saying, she slipped one hand through Sara’s arm again and
half dragged her away from Lord Coatbridge and Lady Nora. Anger
built like a wave within Sara’s chest as she turned furious eyes upon
her friend.
“Whatever did you do that for? I had a good deal more to say.”
“But you would have been cruel to do so, and you are never
cruel, Sara. At least, I believe you are not.”
When they reached the other side of the room, Miss Cartwright
turned so that they were facing Lady Nora and Lord Coatbridge and
Sara followed her gaze. Lady Nora had pulled herself back from Lord
Coatbridge and was standing with folded arms, looking up at him
with an angry tilt to her chin.
“I understand that you are angry, and you have every right to be
so, but it would not be like you to cause another pain. Do not allow
your upset to bring viciousness to your actions.”
Sara drew in a deep breath, and her shoulders dropped as her
anger faded away.
“You are right, Hannah.” She was not callous, and yet had been
about to declare all to Lady Nora in the middle of the ballroom,
knowing the damage it would have done and the scandal it would
have caused. Lady Nora would have been gravely injured by what
Sara would have said, and she would never have been able to
recover from that. “My anger is directed towards Lord Coatbridge,
not Lady Nora,” she murmured as Hannah nodded. “You are right,
my dear friend. I ought not to say anything which would injure the
lady, although I do believe that she should know the truth. Thank
you for pulling me away.”
“I am just glad that I do not also have to face your wrath!” Miss
Cartwright chuckled, making Sara laugh softly in return. “Come now,
attempt to enjoy the ball this evening as best as you can. I believe
Lord Coatbridge will have a less than pleasant time of it.”
Sara smiled darkly.
“Which is precisely what he deserves.”
 CHAPTER TWO

“P erhaps it is just as well that I came to London.”

“I certainly can recommend it,” Lord Wiltsham
chuckled, and Gideon grinned as his friend slipped one
hand around his betrothed’s waist. It was good to see Lord Wiltsham
so happy.
“If we have managed to give you a little hope, then yes, it is very
good that you came,” Lord Foster added, handing a brandy around
to everyone. “That is two of us who have regained our fortunes now.
You shall be the third, I am sure.”
Gideon shook his head.
“I am not yet convinced to stay in London, however, although I
am glad that I was here to be of assistance to you, Wiltsham. I do
not think there is as much hope for me. I already signed the contract
and am now a Marquess without fortune. That much I can recall, at
least.”
“I did the very same and now here I stand, with my fortune
returned.” Lord Wiltsham put out one hand towards him. “There is
no reason that you cannot do as we have done, and we are here to
be of aid to you.”
“Although I am soon to make my way back to my estate in
preparation for my marriage,” Lord Foster reminded them both. “But
I would agree with Lord Wiltsham. You should stay here, Stoneleigh.
I am sure that there will be much for you to discover.”
 “But I have very little to move forward with,” Gideon protested. “I
only vaguely remember what happened, and I have my ongoing
difficulties with my arm to prove it.”
He lifted his right arm as high as it would go, turning his wrist
over left to right. There was a stiffness there that never left him
now, ever since the evening of the injury. He was doing all he could
to restore it to its full strength, but everything he tried seemed to
bring him either pain or a lack of success, which irritated him all the
more.
“All the same, I believe that you should remain here. Go back to
where you recall being that evening. Search for clues if you must. I
will do whatever I can to be of assistance to you, just as Lord Foster
was to me. And you are to reside with me for as long as you require
it. I would offer to return you to your own townhouse, but given that
it is currently let out to another family…”
Lord Wiltsham swung one hand then dropped it to his side.
“I certainly appreciate that.” Gideon gave him a quick smile,
silently reminding himself that he had every intention of returning to
his estate without delay. “There is much for me to do back at the
estate, however. I must look at my situation and attempt to do
everything I can to be as financially secure as possible, given the
circumstances.”
Besides which, I do not want the ton to become even more
aware of the injury to my arm. They would only gossip about me all
the more.
“I think you would be wise to give yourself a little more time
before you return.”
“I am well aware of that, but I must keep my own counsel.”
“Of course you must.” This time it was not any of his friends who
spoke, but rather Miss Carshaw, who was Lord Wiltsham’s betrothed
“I will say, however, that Lord Wiltsham found himself in the very
same position as you are at present. He believed that he had no
hope and no prospect of finding his fortune. But after a short while,
he began to see that there was in fact, a little chink of light. That
light has now brought us together, and our future is secure once
more. I am not suggesting that you cannot keep your own counsel
but only to say that there is still a light of hope for you, if you would
only seek it in what is otherwise a great darkness.”
Nodding slowly, Gideon considered this, knowing full well that
Miss Carshaw was speaking not only of the situation that Lord
Wiltsham had found himself in, but also of her own situation which
had only recently been resolved. Could there be any real hope?
“I shall consider it at least, although I do not know how one is
meant to return to society after such a thing.” A sorrowful laugh
broke from him. “I have been afflicted by the blue-devils since the
whole affair took place and I am certain that, by now, that the ton
will know of my lack of wealth.”
Miss Lawrence tilted her head, having sat silently thus far.
“You may find yourself a little surprised to know that not
everyone is aware of the rest of the gentlemen who have lost their
fortunes. You have always been a rather quiet and contained
gentleman, have you not, Lord Stoneleigh? Perhaps that is to your
advantage in this situation. I do not think that’s the ton have any
awareness of your lack of funds at present. However, they will know
that you have let out your town house for the Season.”
“But that could easily be explained by the fact that you did not
think you would be coming to London this year and thus thought to
serve another family by permitting them to reside there,” Lord Foster
suggested quickly. “I should not concern yourself with that.”
Gideon shook his head.
“The ton will find out somehow, however. Mayhap it may be the
wisest course of action to return home.”
“Well, should you change your mind, you may be sure of our
company.” Miss Carshaw smiled at him. “It might be a wise thought
to return to society with friends by your side. You shall not be as
entirely on your own as you might otherwise be.”
Gideon allowed himself a small laugh.
“I believe you are all quite intent on my remaining in London, are
you not?”
Nobody smiled as he had expected. Indeed, nobody even
laughed but instead, they simply glanced at one another.
 “It is only because we want to see you as we are,” Lord Foster
explained. “Both Lord Wiltsham and I know the struggles you face at
present. That difficulty will not leave you, my friend. You will spend
the rest of your days in such a struggle. That is, unless you are able
to find a way to change your situation.”
“Which you believe I am able to do.”
There was not a great deal of hope left in his heart. Yes, both of
his friends had regained their fortunes, but he kept no such hope for
himself. After all, he could still recall signing the document. Yes, it
had been under duress, but that meant very little. He had still done
it. He had still willingly, if not actually knowingly, signed away his
fortune. In that regard, he was entirely different from his friends,
was he not?
But all the same, he mused. perhaps it would be a wise idea to
make my way back into society with those I consider my closest
friends. That way I will be able to judge society’s response to my
continued presence in London. I would know whether or not I am to
find any welcome here.
His resolve to return home was fading a little as he looked into
each of his friend’s eyes. Both Lord Wiltsham and Lord Foster wished
for him to remain, promising that they would do whatever they could
to help him regain his fortune. Miss Lawrence and Miss Carshaw
were both eagerly looking at him, a small smile dancing across each
mouth. It was obvious that they very much wished for him to remain
in London, clearly filled with the same hope for him, as had brought
them and their particular gentlemen such great happiness.
“Perhaps I shall attend one ball before my return.” This brought a
slight squeal of delight from Miss Carshaw and a warm smile from
Miss Lawrence. His two friends merely grinned, nodding as though
they took credit for being able to convince him to linger. “This does
not mean that I am staying in London. It means only that I am
attending just to see what society’s reaction might be to my
presence.”
“Regardless of your reason, I am simply delighted that you have
chosen to stay for a little while longer.” Lord Wiltsham clapped him
on the back and Gideon winced at the resulting jolt of pain which
ran across his frame. “Another brandy perhaps?”
“Let us hope that I am making the right decision!” Gideon
accepted a glass from Lord Wiltsham, smiling despite his ongoing
concern. “And where is it that we are to go this evening?”
Gideon looked around the room as Miss Carshaw and Lord
Wiltsham exchanged a glance.
“There is a ball this evening. It is meant to be a grand affair, and
indeed there is already a great deal of rumor surrounding it. Perhaps
that would be the best one for you to attend.”
It was not like his friends to think about rumor and gossip.
“What rumor?”
Miss Lawrence shrugged her shoulders.
“A particular gentleman has decided he is going to betroth
himself to a particular young lady, despite having been courting
someone entirely different,” she explained. “I can guarantee that
everyone present will be talking of that and not of you. It may be a
little bit disheartening for the young lady involved, but at least it will
take any interest in you away.”
“Mayhap I should be rather grateful to this young lady - whoever
she is - for having stolen this gentleman’s attention and drawn away
the interest of the ton.” Wincing at his own harsh words, he
shrugged one shoulder. “Very well. I shall attend the ball this
evening and hope that it is as you say.”
Else I shall return to my estate without delay. I see no reason to
linger here any longer than necessary.

I nervous and I dislike being nervous.

am
Walking into the ballroom with his head held high, Gideon looked
around the room with what he hoped was a distinguished air. He did
not want to show any sense of anxiety, aware that hiding himself
from society was perhaps not the wisest consideration at the present
moment. If it was as had been suggested, then the ton did not know
about his loss of fortune since he had returned to his estate very
soon after the incident had taken place. Miss Lawrence had been
correct to say he was not a gentleman with a loud manner or an
obvious desire for company. That went in his favor, perhaps,
although as yet he could not say for certain that it was so.
“Good evening, how very good to see you again. I had heard
that you had returned to your estate, but now I see that you are
back in London!”
Gideon nodded, a little surprised and frustrated at the tightness
in his chest.
“Yes, that is true, but I decided to return to London - only for a
short while, however.”
Just until I can discuss matters at length with my solicitors.
“I am certainly very glad to have you in our company this
evening.”
Lord Gilmartin – their host for the evening - was warm and kind,
clearly unaware of the difficulties Gideon found himself in at present.
“I thank you.”
Gideon smiled, nodded, and stepped away, following Miss
Lawrence and Lord Foster, noting that her family stood nearby,
although none of them were looking at Miss Lawrence.
“I was sure nothing would be said of you.”
The delight in Miss Lawrence’s voice made him smile, despite his
own ongoing nervousness.
“Yes, indeed you were, and it seems that you have been proven
correct.”
“Then I am sure that you are glad you came,” she shot back, one
eyebrow lifting gently. “Perhaps you will not find yourself as much of
a stranger here this evening as you feared.”
“I quite agree. You need not worry so much, I think.” Lord Foster
smiled at him, then his brows drew together. “How is your arm this
evening?”
Gideon grimaced and shrugged.
“That is what I find the most embarrassing. I am sure that the
ton will speculate as to my injury, and I cannot hide it from them
either. I shall have to speak of it.”
 “You ought not to be ashamed of your weakness. It is, after all,
an injury that was done to you. It will take some time to heal.”
Gideon let out a slow breath.
“Yes, you are quite right.” His smile was brief for while he agreed
with everything Miss Lawrence was saying, he did not feel as though
he were able to do such a thing with any ease. Whenever a
gentleman went to grip his hand, he had struggled to put the
strength into his fingers that he’d once had, and oftentimes winced
at others’ strong grasps. The pain shot down from his shoulder
towards his hand with the stiffness in his fingers and his arm feeling
as if it might never end.
“No doubt it will be mentioned at some point soon that I no
longer have the strength in my arm that I once used to,” he
grumbled as Miss Lawrence smiled softly. “I do not know what I
shall say if someone should ask me how it came about.”
Miss Lawrence shrugged.
“You could simply state the truth,” she replied gently. “Say that
you were attacked by an unknown assailant and that your attempts
to recover have been successful thus far, but it will take a little
longer for you to regain your former strength. As I have said, there
is nothing that you need to be ashamed of.”
Gideon took in another deep breath and straightened his
shoulders, looking around the room as he did so.
“You say that there are some other whispers this evening?” he
reminded Miss Lawrence and Lord Foster, both of whom nodded
fervently, with Lord Foster swiveling his head around as he looked
about the room, as if in search of the very person they spoke of.
Gideon cleared his throat. “Might you remind me what has taken
place?”
“Certainly. Lord Coatbridge has been courting a young lady by
the name of Lady Sara. To the ton’s surprise, he has suddenly
declared himself betrothed to another.” Lord Foster shrugged. “There
is no explanation for it as yet.”
Gideon lifted his eyebrows.
“Indeed. And he has given no reason for his swift betrothal?”
Miss Lawrence scowled.
 “No, which, I believe, is part of the reason that so many will be
watching him this evening. I believe that many are hopeful that this
evening will explain all to them, although I myself have quite my
own theory.”
“Oh?”
Even Lord Foster lifted an eyebrow and Miss Lawrence shrugged,
a small, wry smile touching her mouth.
“What reason does a gentleman have to betroth himself to a
young lady without much warning?” she asked, her eyes darkening
slightly and no smile upon her lips any longer. “Perhaps he has
behaved poorly, and today must make amends.”
Considering, Gideon lifted one shoulder.
“That may well be so, although there are other alternatives, of
course. Perhaps the young lady has a father eager to wed her to any
gentleman of quality and Lord Coatbridge has thought it an easy and
suitable match Perhaps her father has offered a great dowry and
Lord Coatbridge cannot refuse such a large sum.”
“Which would again make his character a good deal more
questionable in my eyes,” Miss Lawrence returned. “Are you
acquainted with the lady in question? Lady Sara? Her father is the
Earl of Longford.”
“No, I do not believe I am.” Gideon smiled a little self-consciously,
as he admitted to Miss Lawrence how little society he had enjoyed.
“Prior to this - as you may well know, given what Lord Foster has
told you about me - I have not been a gentleman often inclined
towards a great many acquaintances. I am content with only a few
very close friends. I have never felt the need to introduce myself to
all and sundry. To my mind, it is a poor gentleman who boasts a vast
number of acquaintances but has very few friends.”
A small flush of heat rose in his chest, but Miss Lawrence only
smiled.
“I do not think that a poor choice, Lord Stoneleigh., I quite
understand it. I admire it, in fact.”
Her eyes suddenly caught on something over Gideon’s shoulder
and she craned her neck a little, forcing Gideon to give a small half
turn, noticing two young ladies walking towards the three of them.
Miss Lawrence seemed to recognize them both.
“Do excuse me – and return my betrothed to me shortly, will
you?”
Lord Foster grinned and then slipped away, as the two young
ladies came to join them, frustrating Gideon’s attempts to speak
further with Lord Foster.
“Miss Cartwright, Lady Sara.” Miss Lawrence smiled warmly, then
dropped into a quick curtsey. “Good evening.”
“Good evening.”
Neither of the ladies were smiling, but Gideon found his attention
caught by the brightness of one set of vivid blue eyes, although he
did not know which young lady was which as yet. Coughing gently,
he caught Miss Lawrence’s attention.
“Forgive me. Allow me to introduce The Marquess of Stoneleigh.”
She continued with the introductions as Gideon bowed, glad to
know which was Lady Sara and which Miss Cartwright.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Now that he knew which lady was Lady Sara, he found his eyes
lingering on her with a good deal more intensity. She was not overly
tall, and had gentle curves that left his mind wandering to places it
ought not. He should not be thinking about what it would be like to
press a kiss to the delicate curve of her throat, nor wondering how
blue her eyes would be, should he be standing a good deal closer to
her. Indeed, it was a very strange thing for him to be thinking at all,
for he was not a man inclined to such thoughts. He had always
admired young ladies, yes, and had found them beautiful, charming,
and quite delightful, but had never found himself drawn to one as he
was in this moment.
“Lord Stoneleigh?”
A chill ran across Gideon’s skin, his feet shifting as he dropped
his head, realizing that he had lost the thread of the conversation
entirely. He had been far too busy trying to understand all that he
was thinking and feeling, instead of paying any attention to what
was being said.
 “I am afraid we have only just arrived, so I cannot say whether
or not I have enjoyed this evening as yet. Lord Coatbridge will be
able to give his own opinion, however.”
“Alas, I have only been here a few minutes myself also.” Relieved
that Miss Lawrence had obviously seen the worry in his face, he
glanced at her. “I am certain that it will be a pleasant evening. I am
sure you will both enjoy it.”
“I am certain that some of us shall, yes, but even if there is no
particular enjoyment, I expect that it will not be dull.”
Her words were almost sharp, and there was a depth of meaning
coloring them. Swiftly remembering what Miss Lawrence had told
him about Lord Coatbridge and the young lady he had been
courting, Gideon sent another look towards Miss Lawrence who gave
him a small nod. Gideon did not want to make it obvious that he
knew of Lady Sara’s reasons for feeling so miserable but, to his
surprise, found himself desirous of improving the evening for her as
best he could.
“I may not be the most proficient dancer, but I can certainly do
my utmost to make certain that your evening is a little less
disappointing,” he found himself saying. “That is, if you should wish
to step out with me.”
It seemed to take the lady a few moments to realize what he was
asking her, for she stared at him with incomprehension in her eyes,
before light suddenly dawned.
“You mean to ask me to dance?”
Gideon chuckled, pushing away the slight discomfort which came
with her surprise.
“Yes, Lady Sara, if you should like to dance, I would be glad to
step out with you. And you also, Miss Cartwright.”
The latter smiled and immediately pulled her dance card from her
wrist, handing it to him without a second thought. Relieved that at
least one of the two showed happiness at his request. Gideon took
his time in selecting the dance. His arm was already stiff and sore,
and perhaps even more pain would come to him because of the
dancing, but it would be worth it. He had not stepped out with any
young lady in some time. It was all too easy to forget that he no
longer had the fortune he had once possessed, far too easy to
simply imagine himself back in a position of wealth and fortune, and
able to give himself and any young lady he chose a happy and
contented future. Now, this could only mean a dance, and nothing
more. He was not in a position to be able to offer anything else.
“What say you to the country dance, Miss Cartwright?”
“An excellent choice, my Lord,” came the eager reply and he
smiled as he signed his name and handed it back to the lady.
He then turned his attention to Lady Sara, not blinking when he
looked into her eyes, and steeling himself for her refusal. She had
not even taken the dance card from her wrist.
“Lady Sara? If you have no wish to dance this evening, then –”
“No.” The slight lifted to her chin spoke of a sudden and fierce
determination as she slipped her dance card from her wrist. “Forgive
my tardiness, Lord. Stoneleigh. You find me a little on edge this
evening, which perhaps has not made for the best of introductions.
Forgive me. I should be very glad to dance with you. Thank you for
your invitation.”
Having carefully considered the dances, it did not take him long
to sign his name.
“The quadrille, Lady Sara. I hope that pleases you.”
“It does, Lord Stoneleigh.” Taking it back from him, she gave him
a brief smile, although there was a slight glint of steel in her gaze. “I
look forward to stepping out with you.”
They took their leave, and left Gideon and Miss Lawrence
standing together.
“So that is Lady Sara, who has been pushed aside by Lord
Coatbridge,” Miss Lawrence explained.
“Which is nothing but foolishness as far as I can see,” Gideon
replied, speaking without consideration or having any desire to keep
his thoughts to himself. “She is certainly quite beautiful and from a
suitable family. I am certain that she would have made him an
excellent wife.” Miss Lawrence turned her head and gave him a
slightly surprised look, with wide eyes and eyebrows that lifted
momentarily. Heat burned in his chest, and he turned his gaze away.
“I am being nothing but complimentary.” He forced the words out of
the corner of his mouth. “Nothing other than that.”
Miss Lawrence laughed.
“I think that you have done her a great service. This will bring a
little joy to the evening, although I must confess that I myself am a
little upset.”
“You are upset?” His eyes rounded as she nodded. “Goodness.
Whatever have I done? Pray tell me at once, so that I might rectify
it.”
Much to his relief, Miss Lawrence only smiled at him, making him
realize that she was teasing.
“Why, Lord Stoneleigh, you have asked Miss Cartwright to dance,
and Lady Sara also, but you have not asked if I should like to do so.
I know that I am betrothed to your friend, but that does not mean
you cannot step out with me also, does it?”
Chuckling, Gideon held up both hands.
“That is a grave mistake on my part. One which I think to rectify
at this very moment, if you will forgive me?”
Miss Lawrence considered for a moment, then laughed.
“Of course.” Her smile faded. “So long as your arm does not
become further injured.”
“I shall be quite alright,” he assured her, grateful for her
consideration. “You must pray that I will remember all the steps. If I
tread on your toes, then you shall have to forgive my forgetfulness.”
Miss Lawrence smiled, the brightness in her eyes returning.
“It cannot be as bad as all that, Lord Stoneleigh.”
He offered her his arm.
“There is only one way to find out, Miss Lawrence. Let us go and
see.”
 CHAPTER THREE

“A nd how do you feel this morning?”

Sara shrugged both shoulders.
“I am doing my utmost to find a little joy, but last
evening was rather trying.”
Her friend lifted an eyebrow.
“Even with Lord Stoneleigh’s attention? He made you smile at
least.”
Sara considered for a moment. Lord Stoneleigh had brought a
certain lightness to the evening, definitely, particularly as she had
been in a dispirited frame of mind to start with.
“I shall admit that he was a helpful distraction for a time, yes.”
“And you did not speak to Lord Coatbridge again, I assume?”
“No, I did not.” Sara tossed her head. “Instead of feeling sorrow,
I found myself rather angry.” A slight flush burned in her cheeks.
“Although I certainly am regretful for speaking so unkindly. His newly
betrothed Lady Nora did not deserve my harsh words. I was rather
thoughtless, was I not?” Her friend did not disabuse her of this
notion, nodding in evident agreement. “I should have been a good
deal more considerate. I wished to injure Lord Coatbridge, but had
you not called me back, I believe I would have injured the lady who
has nothing to do with this situation. It appeared that she was
without awareness that Lord Coatbridge and I had been courting.”
“Yes, I would agree with that.” Miss Cartwright pulled her mouth
to one side. “My heart does pain itself for her. It seems as though
she has been quite taken in by his charm, and perhaps even believes
that he feels a good deal more for her than he truly does.”
Sara winced.
“Perhaps she is not as unaware of it now, given what I said. It
turns out that I would have been better staying at home last evening
just as I said to my mother, although I will admit that I had not
expected to feel such anger upon seeing him.”
“That is something you cannot be irritated with yourself about
either,” her friend insisted. “You were done a great wrong. It is
natural to feel such things.” She smiled softly. “I did find Lord
Stoneleigh’s company last evening most pleasant.”
As she shot her friend a quick look, Sara’s eyebrows lifted and
her heart turned over with concern, only for Miss Cartwright to
laugh.
“No, indeed you need not think that I am enamored of him in any
way. It is more that I was grateful for a gentleman who was eager to
listen and did not force his conversation upon me. I was very glad
for your sake too, did you not think the same?”
Sara swallowed, aware of the warmth in her cheeks.
“I will confess to you that I spent the majority of my dance with
him looking over his shoulder to determine where Lord Coatbridge
and his betrothed might be,” she admitted quickly, realizing that Lord
Stoneleigh must have thought her a very poor dancer indeed, if not
dreadful company.
“Goodness.” Her friend’s eyes widened a little. “Then might I say
that you missed an excellent opportunity to converse with him. Lord
Stoneleigh was most engaging to talk with and, I think, would have
been able to distract you further from Lord Coatbridge had you give
him the opportunity.”
“Mayhap I shall have the chance to dance with him again,” Sara
protested a little weakly. “I did not find anything wrong with his
dancing, however. I will say that.”
“He did apologize to me about his arm, although I did not notice
it.” Hannah told her as Sara frowned. “Did he not speak so to you? I
thought he did very well for a gentleman who had been injured.”
 Again, Sara was quite at a loss as to what her friend was
speaking of. Spreading her hands, she tried to smile, only for her
friend to roll her eyes.
“You mean to say that you have very little idea of what I am
speaking about?”
“I do not recall him saying anything to me about his arm. Was
this spoken to you at the start or the end of the dance?”
“It was before,” Miss Cartwright informed her. “Given that I
danced with him before you did, I would have assumed that he
would have said the same to you.”
Sara slowly began to realize just how dreadful a dancing partner
she had been last evening. No doubt Lord Stoneleigh would have
thought her very rude for ignoring his conversation entirely, or not
responding to anything he had said. Had he noticed the way that
she had concentrated her gaze to look over his shoulder? Had he
noticed her distraction? On the whole, she had thought that the
dance had gone very well indeed, but it seemed now as though she
had not been paying any attention. And that was to her shame.
“I believe I may have an apology to make to Lord Stoneleigh,”
she murmured quietly. “Goodness, he must think terribly of me.”
Miss Cartwright smiled.
“Mayhap he is understanding. Evidently, he knew the cause of
your difficulties last evening, given what he said. I am sure that he
will realize why you were so distracted, and will not think poorly of
you because of it.”
“He seems to have made an excellent impression upon you,” Sara
remarked as her friend nodded, her eyes twinkling.
“Alas, as favorably as I look upon Lord Stoneleigh, I must confess
that I find Lord Millwood a little better – but then I should, as we are
to marry!” Her friend laughed. “Although I do think that Lord
Stoneleigh would be an excellent gentleman for you to consider.”
Sara immediately shook her head.
“I have only just been spurned by one gentleman. Perhaps it
would be wise for me to take a short time away from them all!”
“From all gentlemen?” Miss Cartwright asked as Sara nodded.
“That is a little severe, do you not think? There are many excellent
gentlemen in London.”
“That may be so, but I struggle to find them! I believed that Lord
Coatbridge was one such fellow, and now look where I am. I am not
certain that I can trust any gentleman again!”
“That does not mean that they are all as Lord Coatbridge was,”
her friend replied simply. “Come now. Let us go to the park for a
walk, as we had planned, and I am certain that we will find some
excellent gentlemen to speak with. They will pull you from your
thoughts of Lord Coatbridge.”
Sara sighed and was about to refuse, only for the door to open
and for her mother to step inside. She murmured a quick hello to
Miss Cartwright but made her way to Sara almost immediately.
“My dear, I have wonderful news!” her mother exclaimed,
immediately catching Sara’s interest.
“Yes, Mama?”
Shifting a little further forward in her seat, she waited as her
mother clasped her hands together.
“I have just heard from my dear friend, Lady Simpson, that her
nephew is eager to make your acquaintance and has every intention
of courting you as soon as he can.”
Sara’s stomach dropped. She had no doubt that her mother was
intending to encourage her through this, but the last thing she
required at present was simply to be snatched up by another
gentleman. He might simply believe her to be broken-hearted and
therefore an easy pursuit, or an easy path to the funds of her dowry.
Whether he wished to court and wed her or, in fact, desired to gain
her interest for something a little less proper, she could not tell, but
she was much too wary to simply accept that the gentleman’s
interest was genuine – particularly when she could not be certain
that they had even been introduced.
“What is the name of this gentleman, Mama?” A quick glance
toward Hannah told her that her friend shared the same concern, for
there was no smile on her face, and her eyes were a little narrowed,
a frown pulling at her brows.
“It is Lord Betley, a most distinguished gentleman who I believe
has a great estate in Scotland.”
 “Yes, I have heard of the fellow.”
After another glance towards Miss Cartwright, the concern which
lingered in her face lingered in her heart also, for Hannah frowned
with concern. Many rumors were going around about Lord Betley -
which her mother obviously had not heard - but as far as Sara was
concerned, he was not a gentleman that she wished to spend any
length of time with.
“I believe that he intends to call this very afternoon,” her mother
continued brightly, as though Sara ought to be half out of her chair
with joy. “We must make certain that you are fully prepared.”
“Alas, Mama, I have already agreed to go to the park and walk
with Miss Cartwright, accompanied by my maid, and one of our
footmen, of course,” Sara interrupted, as her mother frowned. “We
also wish to go into town so she might collect her new gloves for the
ball tomorrow evening since it is to be her betrothal ball. You must
understand that my dear friendship with Miss Cartwright will not
permit me to break my word.”
Seeing her friend about to open her mouth in protest, Sara gave
her a small shake of her head and, thankfully, Miss Cartwright fell
silent
Lady Longford sighed.
“No, I suppose I should not ask you to do such a thing.”
Her displeasure was obvious, but Sara paid no heed.
“Thank you, Mama. If you will excuse me, I must go and prepare
myself, so that we might leave within the hour.”
At this, her mother threw up her hands and left the room, leaving
Sara to fall back into her chair with relief, her eyes closing and one
hand fluttering across her forehead.
“I believe you have heard the same as I, concerning Lord
Betley?” Hannah remarked as Sara nodded. “It appears he is not a
gentleman who is well considered.”
“I have heard that he makes himself quite delightful to every
mother in London,” Sara remarked, opening her eyes. “But that his
conduct in private is quite improper. Had my mother heard of this,
then I am quite sure that she would not be so willing to push me
into his company.”
 Hannah sighed and shook her head.
“It is unfortunate that some gentlemen can do just as they
please in that regard. They may have a wife and continue on with
any and every flirtation, with no one disapproving. I am glad that
you are cautious, my dear friend. He is not a gentleman you ought
to consider. Not to my mind, at least.”
“I quite agree,” Sara acknowledged. “It seems that you are to
have your trip into town after all, my dear friend. We must depart
before my mother comes up with another reason why I cannot
simply go into town with you, and must instead stay to greet Lord
Betley!”
Miss Cartwright laughed, rising from her chair.
“I am certain that we will find excellent company, and you will
forget all about Lord Coatbridge and everything he has done,” she
declared as Sara rolled her eyes. “And if not, then we shall make
certain to spend our pin money on something beautiful.”
That idea brought a smile to Sara’s face.
“A capital idea,” she agreed, as they walked from the room. “And
I have just the thing in mind!”

“I must say , that is the most fetching bonnet, and the ribbon
certainly brings out the color in your eyes.”
The proprietor smiled warmly as Sara tied the ribbons under her
chin. She had no need for a new bonnet, but it was a pleasure just
to be able to look at them, and try them on. Besides which, her
father would have no qualms if she purchased something for herself,
not after the trouble she had endured thus far with Lord Coatbridge.
“It certainly does.”
Miss Cartwright agreed, as Sara smiled back at her reflection in
the mirror. She caught Miss Cartwright’s gaze, seeing her smile, but
also the slight dancing of her eyes, telling Sara that she knew all too
well that her desire for a new bonnet came only to soothe her
injured spirits, rather than because she required one.
 “I think I shall purchase it.” Waving one hand towards the bonnet
she had worn from the house, she smiled quickly. “Might you return
my bonnet to the house in place of this one? I think I should quite
like to wear this today.”
“Yes, of course.”
Obviously glad to have made a sale, the proprietor beamed at
her and agreed readily, commenting again on how well chosen the
bonnet had been. Sara smiled with gentle affection, aware that the
lady was doing all she could to encourage Sara to come back to her
shop again, at another time which she had every intention of doing.
“And I am most pleased with these gloves.” Miss Cartwright set
down the pair of silk gloves that she had ordered last week, and
which the proprietor had just delivered to her. “I have a ball
tomorrow and I certainly do require this new pair. I am afraid that
my current pair has a slight hole in one of the fingertips and I could
not allow them to be seen, particularly at my betrothal ball!”
This prompted a flurry of congratulations from the lady, who then
encouraged Miss Cartwright to return should she require anything
for her wedding chest.
After a short delay, they were able to leave the shop and stepped
out into glorious sunshine. Sara smiled to herself, tipping her head
up for just a moment before ducking it again under the shadow of
her bonnet. She did not want to have even one freckle, but the feel
of the warmth on her face was too delightful to forgo.
“I think this a very pretty bonnet,” she sighed. “Do you not think
so?”
“Indeed I do, although I do not think you purchased it simply
because of how lovely it is.”
Sara chuckled.
“Why then, pray tell?”
“You cannot escape my notice,” her friend laughed. “I do hope
that it has been successful in its purpose of lifting your spirits
somewhat?”
Laughing, Sara looked away for a moment as they meandered
slowly together along the street, keeping to their own conversation
rather than stopping to greet any other, with the footman and the
maid trailing after them at a suitable distance.
“Yes, I suppose you are right. I cannot hide such a thing from
you. It has improved my spirits a great deal and I find myself quite
pleased with the day. Indeed, I have forgotten about Lady Nora and
Lord Coatbridge. Instead of feeling aggrieved, I now feel almost
contented!”
“And all because of a bonnet,” Miss Cartwright laughed, linking
arms with her friend. “The blue ribbons certainly do match the color
of your eyes. I will say that,” Miss Cartwright added.
“And are you contented with your gloves?”
“Oh yes. I am very much looking forward to the ball tomorrow. I
am still somewhat shocked to imagine myself a bride! It is
astonishing in many ways.”
“But you are happy with your choice?”
Miss Cartwright nodded.
“I could not think of anyone other than Lord Millwood. I am more
than content. It is a very difficult emotion to express, and I do not
think I can satisfactorily tell you all that I feel for him! I do not think
I have ever been so filled with joy.”
A little surprised at the heat of envy rising slowly from the depths
of her soul, Sara patted her friend’s arm.
“Perhaps I, one day, shall share that particular emotion with a
gentleman of my own.”
“I am certain that you will, so long as you are patient.”
“Whatever has patience to do with it?”
Sara blinked in surprise as Miss Cartwright laughed softly, as
though she had said something foolish.
“It is to say that such an emotion does not simply appear one
day. Perhaps for some, they might feel a great and overwhelming
emotion initially, but the depths of feeling that I now experience I
believe will take a little time. That is where patience is required.”
“You have not always felt so for Lord Millwood?”
Sara looked at her friend as they walked, noting the smile which
seemed to linger every time Miss Cartwright spoke of Lord Millwood.
 “No, not always. My dear Lord Millwood and I courted for some
time before he decided to propose. My feelings about him were, by
that time, so great that I was able to consider everything that I felt
and accepted him without hesitation, knowing that it would be both
a practical match as well as one of love.”
“You mean to say you told him all that was within your heart?”
A little surprised at the openness of her friend, Sara’s eyes
widened as Miss Cartwright nodded.
“Of course I did. Because we had been in such close
acquaintance for a long time, there had grown a great bond of trust
between us. I would not have kept anything from him for the world.”
The envy that Sara had battled with again rose up like a fiery wave
that she had to fight hard to push away. “That is why I speak of
patience,” her friend finished. “Such a close acquaintance can take a
good deal of time to develop. You cannot expect it to rush towards
you at great speed - although I have heard on occasion that it has
done so for certain individuals, even though that is not my
experience.”
“I believe that my feelings for Lord Coatbridge would have grown
still further, had I been courted by him for any longer length of
time.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“But that is good, is it not? It is good that your feelings were not
so very great, so that you have not been completely shattered by his
betrayal, although I shall not say that you are in any sort of enviable
position. I would encourage you to push against your mother’s urge
to match you with a suitable gentleman. Take as much time as you
can to find a husband who truly suits you. Allow the Season to go by
with great slowness and deliberation on your part and use that
inquisitive nature of yours to make certain that any gentleman who
seeks your affections is worthy of them.”
Sara arched an eyebrow.
“Are you saying that I am a little nosy, my dear friend?”
Again, Miss Cartwright laughed, but she did not immediately
disagree.
 “I believe I used the word inquisitive,” came the answer, making
Sara laugh. “Come now, we are dear friends, are we not? I know
you well – and after our conversation this morning about Lord
Stoneleigh, I can already imagine what questions are in your mind
when it comes to him.” Sara attempted to find the words to
disagree, but her conscience forbade her from speaking aloud. “Am I
incorrect in my assumptions?”
Sighing, Sara shook her head, as they turned to step into a
bookshop. Dropping her voice low, she spoke a little more quietly to
her friend as they wandered among the shelves stacked with books.
“If you are asking whether or not I am thinking about Lord
Stoneleigh, and the injury to his arm, and whether or not he spoke
to me of it, then the answer would be yes. I will not pretend
otherwise.” She threw a smile to Miss Cartwright, but her friend did
not see it as she picked up a book, now scrutinizing the cover. “I find
myself wondering where he sustained such an injury, and why his
arm is still so painful to the point that he felt the need to speak of it.
And I find myself wondering whether or not he spoke to me about it
in the same way he spoke to you. Yes, my friend, I do have a great
many questions about Lord Stoneleigh!”
“I did speak to you about my arm before we began the dance.”
A deep voice made her jump in surprise and, when she turned
her head, there, standing before her, was none other than Lord
Stoneleigh. His back was straight, his head held high with one hand
holding his hat close to his side.
“I do not… That is to say…” Closing her eyes for a moment, she
took a breath. “Good afternoon, Lord Stoneleigh.”
Aware that she was fumbling for what she ought to say in such a
circumstance as this, Sara let her gaze dart around the shop rather
than looking into his face. How long has he been standing there?
How much has he heard from my lips?
“Good afternoon.” Lord Stoneleigh murmured the words, inclining
his head as Sara’s heart ricocheted around her chest. She managed
to drop into a quick, bobbed curtsey. “And good afternoon to you
also, Miss Cartwright.”
 Sara caught her friend’s eye for a moment as she gave a soft
reply, only to then turn away from Lord Stoneleigh entirely - but not
before Sara had caught the redness in her cheeks. She had no other
choice but to turn her attention directly back to Lord Stoneleigh.
“Forgive me, Lord Stoneleigh, for what you have, no doubt,
overheard from me.” Sara’s face was burning as Lord Stoneleigh
looked at her, his eyebrows a little lifted. His dark brown eyes were
in sharp contrast to the fair hair which draped itself across his
forehead, and Sara struggled to look straight into his face. There
was a tightness to his square jaw, and the way that he dropped his
chin a little to look down at her was somewhat intimidating.
Choosing to be honest, she threw out both hands. “My friend has
only just finished accusing me of being much too inquisitive and
alas, I find that I must agree.”
“So it would seem.”
Lord Stoneleigh clasped his hands behind his back, his lips
pursing for a moment. His sudden change in expression reminded
Sara that she had spoken of his arm.
“Forgive me for my lack of attention last evening, my Lord. I
believe I was a very poor partner for you, and missed a great deal of
your conversation, no doubt due to my own feelings and
distractions.”
“You were preoccupied,” he agreed, shifting from one foot to the
other, his head turning slightly as she took him in. His expression
was inscrutable, and she could not tell whether or not he was
irritated with her, or whether he found the entire situation a little
mirthful. The broad shoulders and obvious strength in his frame
were entirely in contrast to Lord Coatbridge, who was rather slender
in his frame, and Sara found her heart quickening all the more. “I
have been informed about the difficulties which you faced last
evening, Lady Sara.” His hands swung back but she did not miss the
flicker in his dark eyes which came as he did so. Evidently, his arm
still pained him. Clearing his throat, he lifted one eyebrow as she
flung her eyes back towards him, only just realizing that her gaze
had been on his arm.
Tension burned the air between them.
 “Pray forgive my inquisitiveness. I shall not be demanding any
answers from you, I can assure you.”
Lord Stoneleigh’s smile was sudden, bright, and took her breath
for a moment.
“That is a very great relief. I only spoke a little in apology for
being unable to dance with my usual vigor, but did not give any
particular details. Given your own situation, I am sure that you can
understand my reasons for doing so.”
His eyes were suddenly lit with a fire that Sara had never seen in
him before, and her embarrassment grew all the more. Pressing one
hand to his heart, Lord Stoneleigh bowed and, without another
word, turned on his heel and made his way from her company and
the bookshop itself. Sara blinked in astonishment, following him with
her eyes and wondering whether or not she had seen mirth his
expression, or if it had been something entirely different.
“Goodness, that was most embarrassing.” Miss Cartwright was
beside her again in a moment, clearly relieved that Lord Stoneleigh
had left the bookshop. “How much did he overhear, do you think?”
Grimacing, Sara let out a long breath.
“I cannot say entirely, but from what he said, I believe that he
caught me talking about his arm and the injury he has so clearly
sustained to it.”
Her friend patted her arm.
“Pray, do not give it too much thought. He will forget it soon
enough, and you apologized quite beautifully.”
Sara’s embarrassment did not fade.
“Perhaps, although I do not think he will ever ask me to dance
again.”
“Answer me this. After this situation, are you going to step back
from such curiosity?” her friend asked, as she returned her gaze to
Sara. “Shall you continue to wonder about Lord Stoneleigh and his
injured arm, or will you push him away entirely and focus on
something else?”
As much as she wanted to say otherwise, the truth formed words
on her lips, and she had no choice but to speak it.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
because his coat is white he is difficult to care for, which to a certain
extent, is the truth. His coat should be curly, but wiry in texture. In
action the dog is quick, proud and graceful.
The Italian Greyhound is another old breed; in fact he is one of the
oldest among the toys. He is in every sense of the word, a miniature
greyhound and good specimens are extremely graceful. Because of
his short coat and his generally slight appearance he is a dog that
will not permit of much exposure, though those who breed them say
that the Italian greyhound will stand the cold and the inclement
winter of the north as well as any of the toy breeds, which statement
is rather doubtful. For a clean, neat dog about the house, however,
he is very commendable. In the matter of intelligence he does not
grade up with some of the other varieties described, although he is
very alert and watchful.
The Toy Black and Tan Terrier is another breed that is rather difficult
to rear, although his short black and tan soft coat commends him as
an indoor dog, for he is clean at all times and only a slight brushing
once a day will keep him in condition. They have been breeding this
variety so small that most of the specimens seen at the present time,
have become apple-headed and they are as lacking in intelligence
as they are in appearance. However, a black and tan weighing over
ten pounds makes an excellent dog, many of them becoming keen
ratters, though it is to be understood that the small ones would not
do for that purpose. Personally, if I wished to have a black and tan at
all, I should take the Manchester, of which the toy black and tan is a
miniature. The breed is not very popular in this country or England at
the present time.
Among the toy terrier varieties must be included also, the Yorkshire,
the Maltese and the kindred varieties. These are very pretty
specimens for the fancier of oddities, but they require untold care to
keep them in condition, both as to coat and flesh, hence the time
spent upon them as house companions is scarcely worth the returns
that one obtains.
The Brussel Griffon is another foreign dog that seemed to evoke
considerable interest some years ago, but this breed also is an
oddity. He is a monkey-faced, hard-coated dog with the pronounced
whisker and the general wire appearance of broken-coated terriers.
His weight ranges to nine pounds as the maximum for “big” dogs,
while for the smaller varieties, it is six pounds. It may readily be seen
from this that the breed is more ornamental than useful, but a livelier,
more active little dog cannot be imagined than this diminutive griffon
whose place of origin is said to be Belgium.

THE SCHIPPERCKE, TOGO.

Another Belgian dog is the Schippercke, a terrier-like animal of about
ten pounds in weight. Very fiery and quick to take offense, he is not a
suitable dog for children, but as a watch dog he will give the alarm at
the slightest noise; furthermore, he is not averse to backing up his
bark with his bite. He is a very faithful dog, and once he becomes
attached to one person or a family, he will remain faithful unto death.
That is one of the features that appeals to most of us and one is apt
to forgive his shortcomings. Very few kennels are now breeding this
variety in America. The dog is black in color, with a wiry-like coat,
and a well pronounced mane. His nose is sharp, his eyes small and
black and his ears erect. The dog is a tailless variety; although only a
small percentage of the puppies are born with this mutilation. The
others have their tails removed, or gouged out when they are quite
young, in fact this should be done before they leave their dam. In
selecting a puppy it is well to take one with not a show of white hair
and see that the ears are small, the back short, the coat dense, the
eyes well set, and showing that “foxy” expression which is so
characteristic of this breed and the Pomeranian.
The Pug, once a very popular breed, has now practically gone out of
vogue, although indications point to its resuscitation. The breed,
speaking in broad terms, is not a particularly intelligent one, though
the dog’s short coat, his cleanly habits, and his generally odd
appearance stamped him one of the favorites of three decades ago,
and it is possible that he may return to favor once more.
 CHAPTER II.
Suitable Breeds. Group Two—Terriers.

The terrier family is a large one in all its ramifications, and the
embryo dog lover, wishing to possess one of this variety will have a
wide field to go over. The terrier should have more action than the
toy varieties and if it is possible, a place should be provided where
he can romp out of doors for at least two or three hours a day. If that
is not feasible, then he must be taken to some park or open place
where he can run and exercise, for a terrier that is kept confined is
as entirely out of his environment as a fish would be out of water.
 KEARN’S LORD KITCHENER.
Among the many breeds of terriers, there are a number which enjoy
equal popularity. The Boston Terrier is the great American product;
he is strictly an evolution of this country and has grown in popularity
in keeping with his qualities. The Boston is a clean, well-knit dog of
trappy appearance, with a short head that is a mean between the
bulldog and the terrier expression, if such a thing can be. He comes
in various weights up to twenty five pounds, and, as a matter of fact,
one finds them going as high as thirty and thirty-five, for the Boston
is a mixture and does not always throw true to type. The present
accepted dictum is, however, that the maximum weight should be
twenty-five pounds. At dog shows the weights are divided by classes
under fifteen pounds, fifteen pounds and under twenty, twenty
pounds and not exceeding twenty-five. The demand for the smaller
weights seems greatest, but one finds more uniformity in the medium
weights—that is, from fifteen to twenty pounds. The Boston terrier
may be good for no practical purposes, but he is alert and will prove
to be a fair guardian of the home. The appeal with this dog is his
absolute trimness, his clean cut appearance, and his short coat. For
people living in flats he is one of the most desirable dogs. In
purchasing one of this breed it is well to see the dog before paying
the money. While there are unscrupulous dealers of all breeds, it
seems that more irresponsible people have taken up the sale of this
breed than any other. I do not mean by this that there are not a large
number of very responsible breeders, but it is the dealer—the vendor
of dogs—whose word cannot always be taken at face value,
therefore, in buying any breed, see that you are obtaining what you
are paying for, and in buying a Boston, be sure of it from every
angle.
 THE SMOOTH-COATED FOX TERRIER,
CH. SABINE RECRUIT.
Fox Terriers, both wire-haired and smooth, are also very popular in
this country, the former probably more so at the present time than
the latter, although the smooth is much more easily kept, is just as
keen and alert, makes a varmint dog the equal of any, and as a
house companion has many advantages over his wire-haired cousin;
the latter is a beautiful dog when his coat is kept just right, but if not,
he is an abomination. Incidentally it may be said that it is both a
science and an art to keep the coats of any of the broken-haired
varieties of terriers in good order.
 THE WIRE-HAIRED FOX TERRIER,
CH. PRIDE’S HILL TWEAK ’EM.
In temperamental characteristics there is little difference, if any,
between the smooth and the wire-haired varieties, and if the dog is
to be kept in the house mostly, perhaps the former would prove more
satisfactory. Prices of both of these varieties have been soaring here
of late, but this refers only to the show specimens. It is always
possible to procure a “waster” either because he does not conform to
the show standard in the finer points, is oversize, or for some other
reason. The fox terrier, as in fact practically all terriers, except the toy
varieties and possibly Bostons, are men’s dogs, and they can furnish
considerable sport if they are trained on various kinds of “varmints.”
In this connection it might be said that they take to this class of work
very readily, as they have been specifically bred for this purpose
since the earliest days.

THE IRISH TERRIER, CELTIC DEMON.

The Irish Terrier, is a wire-coated dog, usually brick red or wheaten
in color. He is a handsome dog, but like the wire-haired fox terrier,
his coat must be kept right. For gameness, there are few terriers his
equal and he has been rightly named “Daredevil.” The Irish terrier is
a trifle larger in size than the fox terrier. He has all of that varminty
look, that fiery eye and alert expression, indicative of the dog of
quick action, and furthermore, he is a most intelligent animal and
makes one of the best dogs for the home that may be imagined.
Since the rise in popularity of some of the other smaller terrier
breeds, the Irish has fallen somewhat in the estimation of the
fanciers, but those who have bred him for years and have a
specimen or two about would not part with the fiery Irishman for all of
the other terriers combined.
The Irish terrier answers in many respects the call for an all-purpose
dog, except that he is not so large as the Airedale and therefore
could not hold his own in fighting big game, though for his inches, no
better dog ever lived, and I have, on one or two occasions, seen Irish
terriers in bear packs which proved to be just as valuable as some of
the larger breeds; they were certainly just as game, and being very
quick and shifty, they could do considerable damage and still come
away uninjured, where a larger dog might suffer the consequences
of his temerity. The Irish terrier is essentially the dog for those who
do not care to keep an Airedale, but want one as game and as
fearless as any dog that lives.
Still another breed that comes between the small terriers and the
Airedale is the Welsh Terrier. A dog that in many points resembles
the Airedale, particularly in texture and color of coat, although the
head is of somewhat different formation. Welsh terriers never
became common in this country. Possibly because of the rapid rise
of the Airedale and partly because he was not exploited like some of
the other breeds. For the person wanting but one dog, however, the
Welsh terrier is an excellent companion, a good watch dog with all
the terrier proclivities, such as going to earth for game, and just as
keen on rats and other small furred animals as the other varieties.
To the uninitiated the Welsh terrier is a miniature Airedale. In height
he should be about sixteen inches, but should not have the
appearance of being leggy, nor on the other hand, of standing too
low on the leg. The markings—that is, color and coat, are similar to
the Airedale; black or grizzle saddle, with tan head, legs and
underbody. Like in Airedales, the rich deep tan and jet black bodies
are most admired. His average weight should be about twenty-two
pounds, though a pound one way or the other is not a handicap.
While white is not desirable, a small spot on the breast or toes does
not disqualify.
A dog that attracted quite a bit of attention at the New York show of
1922, was the Kerry Blue Terrier. There were only half a dozen
specimens of the breed shown and as far as this country is
concerned, it is a new variety, although it is said that it is one of the
oldest of Irish breeds. The dog is essentially an Irish terrier in a blue-
gray wire coat. It is said that the modern brick colored or wheaten
Irish terrier is descended from the Kerry blue and that by generations
of selection in breeding the red coats were finally obtained, but it
seems that fashion is again going back to the original colors and that
is how it transpires that the Kerry blues are coming into vogue. This
terrier has all the good qualities of the more modern reds. To the dog
lover wishing to own a dog that is somewhat out of the ordinary, the
Kerry blue will appeal, though owing to the present scarcity, it is quite
likely that prices will run high.
 THE WEST HIGHLAND WHITE TERRIER, MOROVA.
A very desirable small terrier which came into vogue twelve or fifteen
years ago, is the West Highland White Terrier, one of the border
varieties said to be of ancient origin, but brought to his present
perfection by scientific breeding and selection. The general
appearance of the West Highland white terrier, as we know the
breed today, is that of a small, game, hardy-looking terrier,
possessed of considerable self esteem, and like all good terriers,
has that “varminty” appearance that is such a distinguishing mark of
this group of dogs. He is a stockily built animal, showing strength
from every angle, short legs, deep in the chest, with ribs extending
well to the powerful loin; very strong in quarters and in fact, with all of
his strength, he impresses one as having considerable activity, which
he really has, for there is no quicker and more nimble terrier on four
feet than the West Highlander when it comes to a fight with rats or
other “varmints,” even much larger.
The color of the West Highlander is pure white; any other color, the
creamy or grey shade, is objectionable. The coat is also very
important and fanciers of the breed are more particular about this
feature than any other. As a matter of fact, a coat that meets with the
perfection that the standard calls for, is rare indeed. We hear much
of the so-called double-coat, but in this breed it is demanded. The
outer coat consists of harsh hair, about two inches long and
absolutely free from curl. The under coat, which resembles fur, is
short, soft and close. It is a real weather-resisting jacket such as we
want on Airedales and various other wire-coated terriers, but which
is found so seldom, even in this variety.
The West Highlander weighs from twelve to eighteen pounds;
bitches usually ranging from the minimum figure to sixteen pounds,
while the dogs average about two pounds more to the maximum
weight. In height they measure from eight to twelve inches at the
shoulder. For the prospective owner, who does not object to white
dogs nor to the long coat, the West Highlander white terrier will make
an excellent companion, though his comparative scarcity will
probably keep the prices at a high figure for some time to come.
A near relative to the West Highlander is the Cairn Terrier, a dog of
similar size and characteristics of the other Scottish varieties. The
dog is not very popular at this date, but being a newly cultivated,
though an old breed, the prices are still prohibitive. In all essentials,
however, the Cairn terrier will fill the same place as any of the small
terriers.

THE SCOTTISH TERRIER, CH. THE LAIRD.

The ever popular Scottish Terrier, or Scottie, as he is more
affectionately called, is virtually one of the near relatives of the two
breeds just described. He has been long and slow in coming to his
own in this country, but having once attained a foothold in America
he is likely to retain his place when many of the creations of faddists
are forgotten. He has been becoming more popular every year as a
show dog, though he never will attain the popularity accorded some
of the other terrier breeds. What is more significant, however, he is
rapidly making himself more and more endeared to the one-dog
owner. As a companion about the premises, the house or the
stables, the Scottie is par excellence. A first class vermin dog, an
alert watchman and game to the core, the Scottie will indeed fill the
requirements of anyone wishing to own one small dog, for size and
all other conditions must sometimes be taken into consideration.
The general appearance of the Scottie is that of a sharp, bright,
active dog. His expression is his distinguishing mark, for he is always
on the qui vive, ready, as it were, “for something to turn up.” The
head is carried well up. He appears to be higher on the leg than he
really is; this is due to his short, wiry coat, which is like bristles, and
about two inches long all over the body. He has a compact
appearance, nevertheless, his legs seem to be endowed with almost
an abnormal amount of bone. His back is short, his ribs well sprung,
his loin and quarters well filled up and in every essential, he is
powerfully put together. He carries his ears erect and they are
always alert. His eyes are small and of a very dark hazel color, his
tail, which is never docked, is about seven inches long and is carried
with a slight upward bend, which under excitement is apt to be
carried still more gaily. In height he should be from nine to twelve
inches and in weight the maximum is twenty pounds. Dogs going
over that are considered too large. Of recent years this breed has
been becoming more popular in all parts of the country and at the
present time good specimens may be bought at a very reasonable
figure; that is, puppies at weaning age, or a little later. Naturally,
more matured dogs, with the earmarks of becoming bench show
flyers would still command a price that the average one-dog owner
would not care to pay for a mere home companion. The breed is
very intelligent and easily broken to all the natural pursuits of the
terrier.
 THE SEALYHAM TERRIER, BARBERRYHILL GIN RICKEY.
The Sealyham Terrier is another breed that has come into popularity
recently, and with an active club here in America to foster it, it has
made rapid strides during the past four or five years. In the eyes of
the tyro he is a short-legged, over-weighted wire-haired fox terrier,
although the standard emphasizes the fact that he should not
resemble the latter breed either in character, expression or shape
and such resemblance “should be heavily penalized.” As a matter of
fact, in head properties there is nothing to indicate the fox terrier in a
Sealyham of correct type. His head is of a different formation. The
skull is wide between the ears and as the dog is describes as being
the ideal combination of the Dandie Dinmont and the bull terrier of
twenty pounds in weight, this skull formation is supposed to be the
mien between the two. It is slightly domed and rounded, with
practically no stop and a slight indentation running down between
the brows. The jaws are long, powerful and level, much wider and
heavier than in the fox terrier. The nose is black and the nostrils wide
apart. The ears are of medium size and set low, carried closely
against the cheek, which characteristic is insisted upon since a
forward ear carriage would resemble a fox terrier too much. The coat
is dense and wiry; longer than that in which the wire-haired fox terrier
is usually shown, and it should be especially profuse on head, neck
and throat. The body is compact and the tail is docked and must be
carried gaily. The color should be a white ground although patches of
lemon, tan, brindle or badger-pied markings are permissible on head
and ears, though black spots are objectionable and while they do not
absolutely disqualify, dogs with such markings should be severely
penalized. The size of the dogs should be from nine to twelve inches
and bitches slightly less. Weight in this breed is not any particular
criterion and very frequently a ten-inch dog may be so compactly
and sturdily built that he might weigh twenty-four pounds, while a
larger one of rangier type could easily go considerably less. The
Sealyham’s sphere is similar to that of the other short-legged terrier
breeds; indeed, there are so many dogs of similar characteristics
that the question has frequently been asked, “Why is a Sealyham?”

THE DANDY DINMONT TERRIER, CH. BLACKET, JR.

The Dandie Dinmont antedates the Sealyham by many years and is
a dog which became famous in literature. It will be remembered by
those who read Walter Scott that the hero for which the breed was
named is Dandie Dinmont, one of the noted personages in “Guy
Mannering.” The quaint character is well drawn in this novel of Sir
Walter, but his dogs, Mustard and Pepper, and Old Mustard and Old
Pepper, etc., are even more minutely described. No doubt at that
time this type of terrier was quite common in the border country, but
it remained for dog fanciers to fix the name upon this particular
variety.
The size of the Dandie is eight to eleven inches at the shoulder and
the length of the dog measuring from the top of the shoulder to the
root of the tail should not be more than twice the dog’s height,
preferably one or two inches less. Weight ranges from fourteen to
twenty-four pounds, but the ideal weight is about eighteen pounds.
These weights are estimated for dogs that are in good working
condition. The color is mustard and pepper and it was because of
these uniform and pronounced colors that the quaint farmer in
Scott’s novel could not get away from the names; all of them, as
previously said, were Mustards and Peppers, either young or old.
The pepper in the present-day Dandie Dinmont ranges from dark
bluish to a silvery grey, but the intermediate shades are preferred.
The Mustards vary from reddish brown to a pale fawn, the head
being a creamy white. Nearly all specimens have a patch of white on
the breast.
The coat is the important point, and characterizes the Dandie
Dinmont. The hair should be about two inches long; that from the
skull to the root of the tail, a mixture of hard and soft hair, which
gives a crisp feel to the hand, but the hard hair should not be wiry as
in most broken-haired terriers; the coat is in every sense of the word
what is called piley. The hair on the under part of the body is softer
and lighter in color than on top. The skin on the under body should
accord with the color of the dog.
The Dandie Dinmont is an odd looking creature, but game to the
core and a vermin dog. He is also an excellent watch dog and does
not hesitate to attack an intruder who might presume to trespass
upon his master’s domain. To those who want a rather out of the
ordinary looking dog the Dandie Dinmont will be the answer, for he
will not only attract attention, but also fill every requirement.
The Bedlington is coated very much like the Dandie Dinmont, but
stands up higher on the leg. He is described as the smartest, the
largest and the gamest of the English terriers, but this was before the
advent of the Airedale. His height is from fifteen to sixteen inches at
shoulder, his back is slightly arched, while the dogs average in
weight about twenty-four pounds, the bitches going slightly less. The
origin of this dog is said to be in crosses in which the Dandie
Dinmont and probably the otter hound might have figured. In this
respect he approaches the Airedale in his early history. The
Bedlington never became popular in this country and as a matter of
fact, even in England he is not found in great numbers.

WAR CHIEF OF DAVISHILL.

The Airedale is the largest of the terrier varieties. Indeed, he is such
a large dog that he does not really belong in that class, for while
possessing most of all the other terrier attributes, he does not go to
earth for his quarry and this, in the strictest sense is what all terriers
are supposed to do. Be that as it may, the Airedale has become the
most popular of allround dogs, not only here in America, but in every
part of the world. Whether or not too much “refinement” in breeding
this dog for bench show purposes will eventually ruin him for the
allround utility dog that he is, still remains a mooted question, but
one thing is quite certain; he has found a place in the hearts of
sportsmen and this class will always breed types which will retain
their usefulness, hence the history of this breed here in America may
eventually parallel that of the English setter, in that there are two
types—one for actual use, the other for show only. It seems assured,
however, that the useful Airedale and the fined-down show dog are
growing wider apart each year. The reader who is especially
interested in the Airedale, is referred to my previous book, “The
Airedale for Work and Show.”
The Bull Terrier, a smooth coated white dog, makes an attractive
animal for the premises. He may not be so certain as a companion
for children unless brought up in their company from puppyhood, but
he is a good vermin dog and also a watchful guardian of the home. A
pure bred white bull terrier without the admixture of bulldog blood like
one finds so many among the brindled varieties, commands a good
price, but he is worth the money. Because of his pure white color he
may not be so easily kept immaculately clean, but having a short
coat, he is easily washed and in his case frequent bathing can do
little or no harm, which cannot be said of a number of breeds.