Hugo said nothing immediately, dwelling on the somber reflection that the diminutive philanthropist on his knee knew all too much about potions… and withdrawing… and things like that… as she put it, with an apparent ingenuousness quite at odds with both the sentiment and her earlier conclusions.
He hadn't held her for an eternity, it seemed, and the slight weight, so familiar to him in its contours and fragrances, filled him with an inconsolable yearning. There was nothing sensual about her at this moment. In fact, she seemed unaware of their proximity, so involved in her sorrow and bewilderment over Peg that she might be sitting anywhere instead of on his knee, leaning against his shoulder. Was she even aware of his fingers playing in the tumbling guinea-gold hair?
The door opened suddenly. "Oh, my goodness… oh, I didn't realize…" Lady Smallwood stood foursquare in the doorway, blinking at the pair on the sofa. "I was looking for Chloe," she said.
"And now you've found her," Hugo said easily. "The lass is very upset about Peg." Gently, and he hoped with an air of complete naturalness, he tipped her off his knee and stood up. Dolly would think nothing of it. She would simply see a guardian comforting his unhappy young ward.
"Yes, and what a to-do," Dolly declared. "Talk about ingratitude… talk about biting the hand that feeds-"
"We aren't," Chloe said sharply. "We aren't talking about that at all."
Her chaperone sniffed and with customary fatal lack of tact plowed ahead. "Samuel's come back. He says he's looked all over and there's no sign of her. And good riddance, if you ask my opinion."
"I can't imagine ever doing such a thing," Chloe said, tight-lipped. "Your opinions, madam, can hold not the slightest-"
"Chloe, that'll do." Hugo stepped in before the tirade became unstoppable.
Fortunately, at this point Samuel provided a diversion. He entered the library, snow sticking to his cloak and clinging to his bushy, grizzled eyebrows. "Not a sign," he said. "An' no one's seen 'er neither. I asked up an' down the street. Not that you can see much out there," he added, going to the windows, gazing out at the dense blanket still descending.
He glanced back at the tear-streaked Chloe and said gruffly, "Now, don't you go afrettin', lass. She'll 'ave known where to go. She's no fool, that Peg. If you ask me, she's 'appy as a grig now. No baby to worry over. She 'ad the money you gave 'er, all those good clothes.
She'll be in some alehouse by now, snug and warm, an' havin' the time of 'er life."
"Until the money runs out," Chloe said, refusing to be cheered by a picture that, knowing Peg, she had to admit was quite possibly accurate. 'Maybe she'll come back then."
Samuel shrugged. "More to the point, seems to me, is what's to be done with the babe."
"A wet nurse, I suppose," Chloe said. "But where do we find one in this weather?"
"Well, it just so 'appens that the ead groom's wife 'as just 'ad a little-un. I daresay she'd not be averse to takin' on another for a few guineas."
"Oh, Samuel, you are wonderful." Chloe flew across the room and kissed him heartily on both cheeks, oblivious of Lady Smallwood's scandalized little cry.
"Get along wi' you," Samuel said, blushing. "If yell fetch the babe down 'ere, I'll take it along to the mews. Ted's waitin' fer it."
"And then, when she's weaned, she can come and live with us," Chloe stated.
"It's to be hoped your husband won't be averse to taking on an infant of unknown parentage," Hugo commented somewhat aridly.
Chloe's heart skipped a beat as she realized that she had simply spoken from the forbidden assumption-an assumption that despite the present bewildering estrangement was still intrinsic to her view of their future.
She said with a slight shrug, "Oh, I'm sure Persephone will win over the most unkind heart."
"Persephone! Dear God in heaven! What kind of a name is that for some poor little bastard from the city stews?" Hugo exclaimed, immediately diverted from contemplation of Denis DeLacy's reaction to adoptive parenthood.
Chloe's mouth took a familiar stubborn turn. "I fail to see why a bastard from the stews shouldn't have a pretty name."
"Hugo!" Lady Smallwood squeaked. "Oh, goodness me, whatever will she say next? If anyone should hear… oh, my poor heart, such palpitations." She sank onto a chair, fumbling in her reticule for her smelling salts.
Unfortunately, Hugo caught Chloe's eye, brimful of wicked merriment. Over her shoulder Samuel was grinning with unabashed amusement. Hugo developed a violent coughing fit as the only recourse.
"Well, I'll go and fetch Persephone," Chloe declared, regarding her convulsed guardian with feigned concern. "That is the most dreadful cough, Hugo."
He pulled himself together. "Must it be Persephone?"
"Yes," Chloe said simply, turning to the door. "And while I'm in the mews, I thought, perhaps, since its such a miserable night and he'll be cold and lonely-"
"No," Hugo said.
"But I promise I'll keep him on the leash; he's very good about it. And I'll only let him in here. He and Dante like to play together and they can lie by the fire."
"No."
"Oh, Hugo, please."
"Is she talking about that wild animal?" Lady Smallwood recovered from one set of palpitations and prepared for the next. "I will not… absolutely not stay under the same roof as a wild beast."
"Oh, ma'am, he'll only be in the library," Chloe said. "There's no reason why you should even see him." She turned dark purple eyes on Hugo. "Demosthenes hasn't been able to play with Dante all day because of the snow. And he'll be so lonely."
It was true that the massive brindle mongrel and the bear cub had developed some kind of rapport. It was also true that the pair of them could reduce a room to ruin before a man could blink.
"No," Hugo repeated.
"But I promise I'll keep him on the leash. And if he won't be quiet, then I'll take him straight back to the stables." Tearstains still tracked down the damask cheeks, her eyes were still tear-washed, that lovely soft mouth quivered in appeal.
Hugo wondered absently why he even bothered to begin a battle that experience told him he couldn't possibly win. He'd forbidden the bear the house on innumerable occasions, but it didn't seem to make the slightest difference. Demosthenes still came in.
Shaking his head in defeat, he bent to throw another log on the fire.
"Hugo, I've been meaning to talk to you about that young DeLacy," Lady Smallwood said, abruptly recovering from her palpitations as the door closed on a triumphant Chloe. "His attentions are most particular."
"I had noticed." Hugo turned to face his cousin. "And as far as I can gather, so has everyone else."
"Chloe doesn't appear to hold him in dislike," his cousin said.
"That, if I may say so, is the understatement of the season, ma'am."
"It's a perfectly good match… not brilliant of course, and with that beauty and such a fortune, one would have hoped-"
"But as we both know, ma'am, Chloe refused the brilliant offers made her."
"Yes." Lady Smallwood touched her smelling salts to her nose. "It's past time she settled down. All this nonsense with wild animals and waifs and strays… it really won't do. It's amazing that Society has tolerated her oddities this far. But I'm convinced that once she has a husband and a house and a family of her own, then she'll leave this willfulness behind."
"I wouldn't call it willfulness," Hugo demurred. "But I take your point. What are you suggesting, Dolly?"
"That you should ask DeLacy what his intentions are," she said. "He must be brought to the point. The flirtation has gone on quite long enough, and Chloe has too little experience to know how to encourage the young man to speak up."
If you only knew. Hugo steepled his fingers and painted an expression of alert concentration on his face. "You think he needs a push?"