Romancing a Wallflower

from his bag and placed it in her hand. “This tincture of myrrh and aloes should help. Sprinkle it lightly and wait a few minutes. This ointment applied fifteen minutes after the tincture should help clear things up. Only apply a thin coat. The cool air will help with healing. In a few days, I think he will be as good as new and his coat will grow back.”
“Thank you, Mr. Whitten. Do you know his age?” Lilian was delighted to get such a good report.
“If I were to hazard a guess, I estimate he is five or six months old. Remarkably, he seems not to have gained worms or any other pestilence. Many puppies succumb to them early. This little puppy is remarkably healthy.” He turned to Cooper. “Take good care of your mistress, Cooper, I believe she will take care of you.” As he spoke, Whitten packed his bag.
Lady Avalon, who had quietly returned to the room while the examination was going on, rose and walked over to Lilian’s chair.
“Mr. Whitten, will you take a cup of tea and some biscuits? A maid is bringing some light refreshments.” At that moment, the maid walked in with the tea tray and placed it on the table near them.
“Thank you, my lady, but I feel I should be on my way. I have a horse I must attend near Smithfield Market.” He bowed politely. “Good day to you.”
“Of course.” Lady Avalon nodded. “Good day. Before you leave, my husband asked that you wait on him in his study. I believe he wishes to thank you personally.”
“I will do that.” He turned to Lilian. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Lord Harlow spoke at length about the young woman who took on a small gang of curs to rescue a small puppy,” he said cheerily. “I could see he was greatly impressed.”
“Thank you, sir. You are very kind. I am sure I did no more than many in my place would have done.” Lilian’s face reddened slightly at the compliment and the reminder of John Andrews.
“Of course. All the same, it was a good thing for the animal that you intervened when you did.” Whitten smiled politely, picked up his bag, and left the room.
“Mama, I will send a note to Lord Harlow, thanking him for his kindness.” Without waiting for a reply, Lilian wheeled her chair to the tall secretaire against the wall, opened the desk and extracted paper.
“That would be the proper thing to do,” her mother rejoined in a distracted tone. Lilian glanced over her shoulder at her mother, who was sitting on the couch, holding Cooper. The puppy was giving her licks on the chin.
“Astonishing,” she muttered to herself as she wrote a note to John.

Chapter 8
Harlow wondered if Max was bamboozling him about his getting leg-shackled to Lady Lilian. Once he had picked himself up, apologized for breaking the chair and blotted the drink from his pantaloons with his handkerchief, he walked over to the Betting Book and checked for himself.
“Fustian nonsense!” he declared. Sure enough, someone had written ‘per L.C.P to one M.M.’ He knew other gentlemen with the initials M.B, but none that would have plastered this about Town. The ‘per L.C.P’ threw him. “This has to be some sort of lark. Who would post such as thing?”
“It appears that M.M. put forward the wager. Do you know him?” Max asked, sauntering up to join him. “More to the point, perchance you should inform your old friend about Lady Lilian,” he prodded jokingly. “By Jove! Is that the young lady who was thrown from her horse last year?”
“The same,” growled Harlow. He enjoyed Lady Lilian’s company, and had planned to call on her today, so why did he feel as though his under-carriage had been displayed for all the world? It did not affect just him, either. It called attention to Lady Lilian, a lady who sought privacy. His attention had cast her into public notice. He instantly regretted his initial, selfish reflections on how this affected him. “I need to find this M.M. and have him erase that bet.” It was not something he could do on his own. Once a bet was cast, it stayed unless it was cancelled by the one who had it entered on the pages. At least, he hoped it could be expunged.
“You will catch cold at this, my friend. What do you know? I go out of Town for a few days, and when I come back, what do I find? You, all but caught in parson’s mousetrap! Is this decision not something you consider worthy of sharing with your friends?” Max asked nonchalantly, examining his cuticles.
“I will not have the lady’s name bandied about in public, Max!” Harlow hissed. He glanced about to make sure they could not be overheard and lowered his voice. “She is Lord Avalon’s daughter, if you must have it, and no, I am not about to be engaged.”
“Do you like her?” Max persisted, a smile teasing the corners of his lips.
Max liked to taunt him, but he should understand this more than most. He knew from experience that Harlow still had nightmares. How often had they been forced to share close quarters while undertaking a commission together?
“You know I cannot marry.”
“That is not what I asked,” Max replied calmly. “Perhaps the right woman would make a difference in that aspect of your life…but do go on.”
“I am aware of what you asked, and yes, I enjoy her company. I suppose I would not be averse to marrying her, if I were in the market to marry,” Harlow admitted. “Conjecture is worthless, however, for I am not,” he added emphatically.
“And this is because of the nightmares? Perhaps if you were to talk about what haunts you, it could help,” Max asserted in a sober tone.
“Nothing can help me, Max.” The two men returned to their table.
“I am serious, nonetheless. Perhaps marriage would be good for you; ease