Max smoothed his other hand over the cat’s head, the purring intensifying. “Mrs. Whitlock may take leave of her senses if there is a cat at the dinner table, devouring good partridge like a furry king, but I have no argument.” He smiled at the creature. “Youmay keep it on the sole proviso that if it should climb the apple tree again, you donot, under any circumstances, attempt to get it down again.”
Shocked and delighted, Caroline threw her arms around him before she could pause to think if it was reckless or not. She hugged him tightly, inhaling the soap and storm scent of his skin, allowing her hand to rest on the back of his neck, her fingertips brushed by the golden curls of his hair.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
A gasp slipped from her lips as he put his arm around her in kind, hugging her back with the cat—mewling in annoyance—between them. It was as if Max was trying to squeeze the air out of her lungs, but she did not complain, allowing herself to be held so vigorously. After all, she sensed it was the hug of someone who really would have cared if anything bad had befallen her, and was beyond relieved that it had not.
And as they sat there on the settee, embracing as if they were not strangers at all, she was filled with the warmest feeling, as if a cat had just curled up in her soul, purring loudly.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Max lay on the floor in the sun room, the fluffy white cat sitting on his stomach, pushing her paws into his chest as if she were kneading dough. “Gentle, Powder Puff! Gentle!” he urged. “I do not need tenderizing so you have a more comfortable place to doze.”
The cat’s green eyes flashed him a withering look, and she proceeded with her massaging, deliberately adding a bit more claw to teach him a lesson.
“I cannot imagine you are very pillowy,” Caroline said from the settee, where she was in the midst of sketching a new design for the fireplace. The original was old and lopsided, and she had mentioned about having something more modern.
Max chuckled, disturbing the cat. “I should hope not. I do not intend to be ‘pillowy’ for at least twenty years, so I am afraid you have a long wait ahead of you, Powder Puff.”
He resisted grimacing every time he said the name that Caroline had chosen for the feline. He suspected she had done it on purpose, purely tohearhim say ‘Powder Puff’ every time he engaged with the feisty creature. Then again, he could not think of a more fitting name. The cat was the epitome of a powder puff, claws and all.
“Would you care to see for yourself?” he asked slyly, peering up at Caroline.
Her stick of charcoal halted on the page, her eyes wide as she lifted her head. “What do you mean?”
“This floor is surprisingly comfortable. Why not come down here and find out if I need further tenderizing?” He patted the right side of his chest. “We can lie here and watch the stars together.”
She blinked. “We are inside, Max.”
“Ah, then we can watch the spiderwebs together,” he teased.
She shook her head, resuming her sketching. “I am convinced you are half-mad sometimes,” she mumbled. “It is quite jarring when you are one person behind your writing desk, and quite another when you are away from your work. ‘His Grace’ would not lie there with a cat on his chest. Max would.”
“Neither thought they would be lying here with a cat on their chest,” he told her, “but asyouinsisted on turning the little beast into a spoiled princess, bringing her indoors, I must do whatI can to ensure she does not become a tyrant. Princesses need placating.”
Caroline chuckled softly. “And what of wives?”
“Impossibleto placate.”
She cast him a look of mock disapproval. “After a month in my company, you still think me difficult? How can that be when I have not played my violin in the room next to your study in weeks? And I only disturb you at your work twice a day now.Iwould call that improvement.”
“Has it been a month already?” Max stroked the fur between Powder Puff’s ears, hardly able to believe that so much time had passed.
In the weeks since they had begun to take their meals together, and the cat’s dramatic appearance had thawed the last of the ice between them, their initial enmity had transformed into a comfortable companionship. They still quarreled and disagreed, she still did not always appreciate his sarcastic humor, but they were friendly.
I think I will miss this.It was a strange realization, but in a month’s time he would have his manor to himself again, while his wife would be making a new life for herself in a household of her own. It would be quiet again. Too quiet, perhaps. But maybe Caroline would visit each week, so they could have afternoon tea together and discuss what the other had been doing.
That would not be so bad.
“Actually, I have been meaning to discuss the next month with you,” he said, sitting up.
The cat leaped away, meowing at the insult of being disturbed. She prowled toward Caroline and jumped up onto the settee, lying right down on the design that Caroline had been creating.
Dismay rippled across Caroline’s face, almost certainly because of the ruined sketch. “What of it?”
“The London Season will soon be beginning, and I thought it might be wise for us to attend plenty of events before we part ways,” he said. “We can journey to the townhouse in the next few days, perhaps yawn our way through a museum or gallery or two. Then, as invitations come, we can venture out into society again.”
Caroline put away her stick of charcoal, in the thin silver box she had taken to carrying around with her. “Do you think we will be welcome?” Her voice hitched. “Truth be told, I have been dreading it. There do not seem to be any newspapers at this manor, and I have grown all too accustomed to the lack.”
