Page 43 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

Jonas met his gaze and briefly shook his hand. “Hello, Julie.”

Julian fought back a laugh. “Perhaps you had better call me by my title, Tensbridge.”

The lad smiled broadly. “Tens!”

This time Julian did laugh. “Whatever you like.”

“I have to go. Bert will worry.”

Who the deuce is Bert? Curious, Julian asked, “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

Jonas shrugged and set off toward the Keenan residence. Julian fell in step next to the young man. He continued to cuddle the hedgehog, which had come out of its protective shell-like position and licked Jonas’s hand. “Is this hedgehog your pet?”

“I have lots of pets,” Jonas answered. He listed a litany of names as they continued on their journey. They reached the boundary of the property; the fences were in various stages of repair and decline, and the hedgerows were overgrown. Julian then recalled Garrett stating he was assisting the widow with certain renovations.

“Bert, I found Daisy,” Jonas called out. In the middle of a thatch of weeds a wizened old man dug into the dirt with a small spade. He was small, hunched over the weeds wearing heavy cotton trousers and a baggy plaid coat with a wide brim straw hat. The man stood and turned, wiping dirt from his face.

It was not a wizened old man, but a woman. At least, the face showed feminine features, though it was hard to ascertain the exact gender because of the loose-fitting clothes. If female, she possessed no shape whatsoever. She lifted her head and caught his gaze. This “Bert” had the most incredible amber eyes he had ever seen. They shimmered gold in the setting sun. “I see you have become acquainted with Jonas.” She pulled off her glove and held out her slender hand. “I am Alberta Eaton, new owner of this menagerie.”

Bert. Alberta. Of course. Her voice was smoky and entirely sensual, and the touch of her cool hand caused his insides to tumble. Hell. It had been quite a while since he experienced such a swift reaction to a woman. “Julian Wollstonecraft, Viscount Tensbridge, at your service.”

“Of course.” She pulled her hand away and held it above her eyes to shield them from the late afternoon sun. “Garrett’s older brother. I remember you, my lord.”

“Have we met?”

She laughed, and it caused a ripple of lust to travel through him. Why he found this elfin lady attractive was beyond him. “Not formally, but I used to visit my uncle Walter on occasion while growing up. The last time I visited was fourteen years ago. He grew increasingly hermit-like in his final years.” She smiled. “I attended a formal dinner at Wollstonecraft Hall with my friend, Abigail Wharton.”

“I do recall, now that you mention it.” Julian pointed to Jonas, who stood inside a pen. “Your son?”

The widow crossed her arms and squinted at him. “Dear me. I look old enough to be his mother? No, my lord, he is my brother-in-law. My late husband refused to have Jonas institutionalized, as those asylums are barbaric. I made a promise on his deathbed to always care for him. Their parents have passed and there is no one else. Jonas is sweet, but has the mind of a twelve-year-old, when in fact he is twenty-four.”

She sighed wistfully. “I love him as if he were my son. I hope he did not disturb you, my lord. I warned him to stay on our property.”

Julian clasped his hands behind him. “Daisy the wayward hedgehog was making a meal out of my rare mushrooms.”

The widow Eaton smiled. “I’m sorry, my lord. She is one of an array of hedgehogs that Jonas looks after. He also has a llama called Poppy. She resides in a pen behind the house, a pen your brother generously built for us. He has been a godsend, for my uncle let the place go to ruin, as you see.”

Once Daisy was settled in her pen, Jonas ran over to where they stood. “Tens, come see Poppy.” The lad acted with such infectious enthusiasm, Julian could not find it in his heart to say no.

“I see Jonas likes to give nicknames,” Julian ventured.

“He does. I hope you are not offended, my lord. I can correct him and encourage him to call you by your title.”

“It’s not necessary. I am not offended in the least. You may call me Tensbridge, if you like. I would rather it than ‘my lord.’”

They trudged behind the house, and Julian observed crumbling brick and peeling paint along with overgrown, shabby shrubs. The place would need a great deal of work and attention.

“See Poppy? Isn’t she pretty?” Jonas cried.

Julian had seen a llama at the zoo in London, but he never imagined anyone having such an animal as a pet. As he stepped closer, the wretched beast glared at him imperiously, then hocked deep in his throat and spit at Julian. The spittle landed on the front of his greatcoat, angering him afresh.

“Oh. My heavens.” Mrs. Eaton rushed forward and wiped at his coat with her garden glove. “She’s never done that before. I do apologize, Tensbridge.”

“Sorry, Tens,” Jonas murmured. “Poppy, don’t spit at Tens. He’s our friend.”

In response, the animal nuzzled Jonas and made a noise similar to a sigh.

“It’s fine. Do not worry.” Julian’s irritation dissipated at the look of the contrite Jonas and the obvious affection the llama showed the lad.