Phaedra wanted to laugh.
“Of course it’s mine!” Her eyes narrowed. “Where did you find it?”
“I found it beneath the dining room table.” Her father’s face suddenly flushed. “Devil knows how I spotted it. Just caught my attention as I rose.”
Phaedra nearly dropped her jaw.
Her father and her mother? In the dining room? This truly was too much for her mind to grasp. Was there anywhere in this house people hadn’t become carnal? She should never have looked up that word. Never have looked through the window.
Her entire reality had shattered.
Phaedra would have loved nothing more than a glass of water just now. Or air, she needed air. For women of propriety who took part in carnal pleasures and inappropriate behavior, they really ought to be more careful with their undergarments.
“Whatever would your garment be doing in the dining room?” Portia asked innocently, much too innocently.
“I cannot say,” her mother answered. “I last saw it in my chamber. Perhaps Puck got into my drawers as well.”
How ridiculous! Phaedra had made that up. Puck had no interest in undergarments or slippers. He preferred to steal cook’s fish or hunt for rodents.
Portia nodded thoughtfully. “Puck is really something, don’t you agree? He also got hold of my stocking.”
Phaedra couldn’t listen to this. There had to be a way out for them all. It was only a matter of time before they asked her about her slipper since they well enough knew their garments hadn’t been carried away by Puck! And given what they had been doing, who knew what they would believe Phaedra had been doing to lose a slipper! Unless they believed her fib, but she’d rather not have that scrutiny on her.
As though the heavens had heard her turmoil and looked down on her with mercy, Puck sauntered into the library and headed straight for her legs, rubbing his face against her, purring.
Thank you, Puck!
The feline had caused her enough trouble; he might as well get her out of it for once.
“What a little troublemaking cat,” the countess was saying. “He got into your chamber too?”
“Puck!” Phaedra exclaimed, picking up the cat.
All eyes turned to her.
“It’s fine if you chew on my slippers,” Phaedra said, giving all the Sharps an out. “But you mustn’t play with mother and aunt’s clothing items, or I shall restrict your snacks for a month.”
At their bewildered stares, Phaedra went on. “It’s a recent habit he developed. I have to hide my slippers, or he drags them off somewhere, usually outside. I’m not sure why he does it, but it’s a troublesome recent practice.”
Her father nodded. “Cats are wont to do that. It’s in their nature to scavenge.”
“That’s right,” Phaedra said. “I read about it in one of the books. They tend to steal the clothing of the people they like the most.” She sent an apologetic look to her father. “Sorry, Papa. It seems Puck favors us more.”
The earl snorted. “That’s because he is male. It’s only natural. He senses my dominance.”
“Robert!” the countess exclaimed. “Don’t spout nonsense about dominance. Not in front of your daughter.”
Her father drew his thick brows together. “What’s wrong with it?”
Phaedra glanced at her mother. She would like to know too. She had a suspicion her mother’s mind was still on the garment and how it got underneath the dining room table, which meant her mother’s mind remained solidly rooted in the gutter.
“Like father like daughter,” the countess said in a huff, turning to march from the library.
Phaedra let out a relieved breath.
A footman appeared in the drawing room. “The Earl of Deerhurst for Lady Phaedra.”
Deerhurst was here?
