Page 62 of A Lady of Conscience

“Best thing for ‘em,” the man said. “It’s a kindness.”

James came to stand beside Hannah. She was certain she heard him utter a weary sigh. “I think not,” he said.

The groundskeeper gave a visible start at James’s tone of authority. “Sir?”

“Relinquish the kitten,” James said. “We shall take charge of him—and the others.”

Hannah was already slipping off her shawl. The kittens appeared quite wild. She had no wish to alarm them any further than was necessary. She scooped up the kitten that dangled from the groundskeeper’s fingers an instant before the man released it.

The kitten didn’t willingly accept his rescue. He uttered a menacing growl, as sinister as the buzzing of an enraged bee. His little body thrashed within the confines of the soft cashmere.

Hannah pressed the precious bundle close to her, murmuring soothing words. She was vaguely aware of James exchanging words with the groundskeeper. He gave the man a coin before sending him off.

“I presume you know how to feed kittens of this age,” James said after the man had gone.

“I do,” Hannah assured him. She would soak a soft cloth in warm milk and allow the kittens to nurse from it. It would do until they could be persuaded to take solid food.

James crouched beside the three remaining kittens. “Do you want them all in your shawl?”

“Yes, but you mustn’t⁠—”

Before she could complete her warning, James made the grievous error of gathering the kittens up with his hands.

Hannah gave an eloquent wince as, before her eyes, the three small kittens were transformed into a hissing and spitting ball of feline mayhem. They clawed at James wildly, one climbing up his waistcoat, the other snapping its teeth at his hands, and the third striking out with its claws.

“Bloody hell,” James muttered under his breath as the smallest kitten scratched his face. A line of blood welled across his cheek.

“Oh, do have a care!” Hannah hurried toward him, opening her shawl. “Put them in here with their brother before they tear you to ribbons.”

“I’m all right,” James said. He gently pried the kittens from his waistcoat, placing them into her shawl one at a time, even as a droplet of blood slid down his jaw untended. “Poor mites. They’re frightened, that’s all.”

Hannah’s heart thumped heavily as she gazed up at him. Whatever doubt she’d had about their future together slipped away. And just like that, standing there in Victoria Park, a bundle of squirming kittens clutched to her breast, she fell all of the way in love with him.

Chapter Twenty

“What the devil happened to you?” Jack asked.

James walked past him on his way down to the kitchens. He held his handkerchief to his cheek. “A minor mishap.”

Jack followed after him. There was a periodical folded in his hand. “Is that blood?”

“A kitten scratch.”

“A kitten climbed up your face? Good God, don’t tell me. Hannah Heywood was somehow involved.”

James ignored his brother. Entering the kitchen, he signaled to the cook. She was alone in front of the fire, drinking a cup of tea. “I require a pot of salve,” he said. “And a plaster wouldn’t go amiss.”

Cook was immediately on her feet. “Right away, my lord.” She bobbed a curtsy before disappearing into the store cupboard.

“The timing couldn’t be worse,” Jack said. “Considering what’s transpired.”

James went to the sink. He wet his handkerchief at the tap. Wringing it out, he again brought it to his cheek. “What is it you’re muttering about?”

“I was at the Pump Room this morning, talking with Colonel Jensen about the possibility of joining his regiment, when I saw Lord Fennick huddled with Miss Paley and several others. I heard one of them mention⁠—”

Cook returned before Jack could finish his story. She unscrewed the lid from a small jar of salve as she approached. “Might I have a look at it, sir?”

James dutifully removed his handkerchief, revealing the scratch on his cheek. “Courtesy of a very small cat,” he informed her.