The Duke's Hound Hated Every Woman He Courted — Until a Young Lady Walked Through the Gate
Chapter 5
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The Duke opened his mouth to argue, found he had no answer, and shut it again."My brother," he said at last, and each word came colder than the last, "was 23 years old, generous to a fault, and the target of every ambitious mother in three counties. He had a weakness for lost causes. Women have come to this door before with their stories, madam. It is a hard thing to bury a man and discover how many people loved him once he could no longer contradict them."It was the cruelest thing anyone had said to her in three years, and she had been called a great many things.Isolde stood. Her knees were not quite steady, and she hated that he could see it."I walked four miles in the rain to put into your hands the one thing I own that has his touch on it," she answered. "I do not want your name, Your Grace. I do not want your money. I have lived these three months on the charity of a landlady who pities me, and I will do it again rather than stay one more minute in a house where I am called a liar by the one man Edmund swore would understand." She gathered the muffler to her chest. "He told me you were the best man he knew. I see now that he was loyal to a fault."She reached the door.Sovereign was there before her. The great hound planted himself between her and the handle, his weight set, his scarred head lowered. He did not growl. He simply would not let her pass.And the Duke, watching the dog he had not understood for three years choose this stranger over his own master, felt something shift in his chest—the way a stone shifts before it falls."Sit down," he said hoarsely. "Please."She did not sit, but she did not leave."Tell me from the beginning. I will not interrupt."So, standing with her back against the door and a dog's warm weight against her skirts, Isolde told him.She had met Edmund at the Marlowe Harvest Fair in the autumn she turned 19. He had come riding through the village with a gray puppy tucked inside his coat, and the puppy had been sick down his waistcoat, and he had laughed until he had to sit down on a mounting block."The puppy was Sovereign," she said flatly, the way one lays down a card, and the hound's ears flicked at his name.