The Duke of Alderwick did not typically lose his composure, nor did he ever misplace his spaniel. Yet here he was, near the village stalls, a man of immense consequence, reduced to negotiating with a very small, very determined dog.
Miss Eleanor Vale watched the solemn Duke attempt to summon his wayward pet with entirely useless dignity. She had always found that gentlemen possessed a great deal of authority, but very little understanding of a spaniel's priorities. She decided to step forward.The village market was bustling with its usual mid-morning rhythm when the disruption occurred. Miss Eleanor Vale had been walking at a leisurely pace beside her maid, Martha, assessing the quality of the autumn apples when a streak of russet fur darted past her skirts. The animal slipped effortlessly through a poorly closed gate near the baker's stall and vanished into the narrow alley beyond.A moment later, a gentleman appeared in the thoroughfare. Even without an introduction, Eleanor recognized the Duke of Alderwick. He was a man whose reputation for strict propriety and serious demeanor preceded him. Currently, however, that dignity was being sorely tested."Bracken!" the Duke called out, his deep voice carrying a note of absolute, though entirely ineffective, command. He stood at the edge of the stalls, his dark coat impeccable, his posture rigid, as he scanned the area. "Bracken, return here at once!"The command was met with the indifferent silence of the village.Eleanor paused, her amusement kept carefully in check. There was something remarkably humanizing about watching a powerful man realize that his title held absolutely no sway over a spaniel. She adjusted her shawl and stepped toward him, the soft rustle of her skirts drawing his attention."I believe, Your Grace, that your companion has chosen to ignore his title today," Eleanor said, her tone mild and pleasant.The Duke turned, his expression momentarily caught between irritation and surprise before settling into a polite mask. "It appears he has chosen to ignore everything except his own appetite. I apologize if he startled you.""Not at all. I am Miss Eleanor Vale. If you are searching for your dog, I believe I saw him slip past that gate." She gestured toward the baker's stall. "Though, if I may offer a suggestion, commands rarely work when a spaniel is on a scent. They require a more diplomatic approach."