Romancing a Wallflower

lovingly smoothed his head.
Her mother smiled warmly, squeezing her daughter’s shoulder with palpable affection.
“Now then, I should see Cook about Cooper’s meals. It is my belief that dogs do well with a small amount of vegetables in their meals, although not onions or turnips,” her mother said thoughtfully. “They are never good, so I must instruct Cook to prepare the proper amount of meat and vegetables for him. Perhaps a small portion of rusks.” She patted Cooper once more and left the room.
Lilian leaned back against her pillows in a slight state of shock. Her mother was suddenly more jovial and easier to speak with—all because of one small apricot-coloured dog. Cooper stepped out of the basket and walked up to her, nudging her chin with the tip of his nose.
“Cooper, look what Mama has brought for you. ’Tis a proper collar. Once your neck is better, I will let you wear it and you will look very suitable!” Scooping up the little dog, she cuddled him, and then rang for Clara. She wanted to get dressed and begin her day. It was pretty outside, and she suddenly had the desire to toss a ball with her new puppy.
Five minutes later, her maid came into the room. “M’lady, ’tis time for Cooper to step outside afore he breaks his fast.” The older woman cackled softly. “I have not seen your mother this happy fer years, not since her Rascal passed away.”
Lilian was grateful that Mama had reminded her of Rascal; otherwise, she would not have understood Clara’s remark. Usually she would ignore such ramblings by her old nurse and not ask questions, but she understood Mama now, and also recalled Rascal. She felt honoured by her mother’s gesture.
“M’lady, yer parents asked me to tell you they ’ave decided to leave for Tintagel on the morrow. M’bones cannot wait for the fresh air of the sea again. I will pack your trunks tonight.
Fifteen minutes later saw Lilian being transported to the first floor with Cooper following behind.
“Winston, thank you.” Lilian acknowledged the young footman who always helped her move about the town house. She wheeled herself to the table, where a plate with various offerings from the sideboard was ready for her to break her fast.
Musing over the day in front of her, she realized she would miss London—or at least two things about London. One of those was Lord Harlow. She felt a quickening in her stomach at the thought of him, similar to the jolts she felt when he was near her. Lord Harlow had not been to visit for two days, now. Surely, I have not developed a fondness for him…have I? A gurgle of laughter escaped her throat. I miss him. He had been in her mind for the past year, a faceless man who had saved her, calming her at the very time she needed a calm touch. His warm, baritone voice and haunting scent had soothed her senses, somehow connecting with her very soul.
As much as she missed her home in Tintagel, where the bedroom was on the second floor instead of here, on the third floor of a townhouse. And her horse was stabled there, no doubt eating his head off in his stall. However, she would miss spending time with…John. She tried to think of him by his given name instead of Lord Harlow, as he had asked.
Gently spearing a piece of the orange from her plate, she ate, still lost in her thoughts. Aside from her sister, Danby was her best friend. Lilian often spent hours with him in the stable, using a chair placed near his stall for her use. On bright days, she took a book to read. His velvety brown nose often cajoled her into smiling, no matter her mood. I wonder how Danby will get on with Cooper. Stop worrying. He will love the little rapscallion.
The sound of light boot-steps sounded behind her and broke her contemplation. Her mother partly opened the door to the room.
“Lilian, my dear, Mr. Whitten has arrived.”
Lilian patted her knees. “Cooper, up!” The little dog hopped up onto her lap, and they rolled along into the hall together.
“Perhaps we should go into the parlour. The room is bright, and there is plenty of space. I will have some tea brought.” Without waiting for a reply, her mother left again.
Lilian and Cooper wheeled into the parlour, followed by Mr. Whitten.
“I understand you have named the puppy?” He squatted down and gently patted Cooper’s head, while examining the raw places on his neck. “That is a fine name, Cooper. It fits him.” He paused and looked up. “I also understand he could have been hurt badly had you not intervened on his behalf. What good fortune you have had, little chap,” Mr. Whitten added with a serious look on his face.
Lilian felt a twinge of pride at his words.
Whitten continued his examination, scrutinizing Cooper’s teeth, his paws, his belly and his ears.
“Soft belly. No drainage from his eyes or nose. Very good,” he continued aloud, but almost to himself. Whitten felt along the dog’s spine and checked the area under his tail. “No sign of worms or other parasites.” He pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Cooper’s heart. “Strong. No abnormal sounds.” Whitten then gently rolled Cooper onto his back and looked at his paws.
Amazed, Lilian looked on while her small puppy complied without complaint.
“I was told that he was being swung around by his legs. A disgraceful way to treat an animal, in my opinion. He is fortunate, as I do not feel any tender spots. His joints feel as they should.” Whitten patted Cooper on the head, signalling the end of the examination. “I have a tincture that I will leave for his neck area. Twice a day, take a cloth, wet it in diluted vinegar and gently dab that on the open areas. He may not like it, but it should help the sores to heal.” He pulled a small bottle