The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

Rohan rather wished she would

do that to him.

“What’s his name, Susannah?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Do you have any suggestions, Ro-han? Ozzy tells me that as a boy you spent a good amount of time with the cats. That you would have made a very good racing master, if only you weren’t the heir and thus had to follow in your father’s and mother’s footsteps.”

“Well, I did spend a bit of time with the racing cats. As for this little fellow—” Rohan lightly stroked his fingertip over the kitten’s white belly. There was a bit of gray mixed with the black on his back. “How about Gillyflower?”

“Goodness, that is so romantic.” Susannah stared at him. Had she attempted a guess at what he would have called the kitten, it doubtless would have been a more manly name, like Brutus or Satan or perhaps even Caesar. “Why Gillyflower?”

“Did you know that ‘gilly’ is the Old English for ‘July’?”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Yes. I assume that’s because the gillyflower makes its appearance in July. The flowers are large, and very fragrant, especially at night. My favorite is colored rose-purple. It will soon be July, and this little fellow does smell sweet.”

“How would a man of your reputation know all that about a gillyflower?”

“I am a Renaissance man, a man of many fine parts. Ah, just look at that face. I don’t think he’ll be a flat-out racer, Ozzy, or a mean one to chew up his opponents, but he’ll fly, light and high. Yes, let’s name him Gillyflower.”

“ ‘Gilly’ for short, sir?” Toby said, coming into the estate room.

“Yes, that has a nice sound to it.”

“Not bad, milord,” Ozzy said, nodding. He rose to his feet. “Well, milady, I’ll be off to the gardens now. Tom is in the roses this morning. ‘E’s not all that nifty wif roses.” He saluted Rohan and took himself out of the estate room.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” Susannah called after him. “I will see you tomorrow morning for Gilly’s lessons.”

Her eyes remained on the kitten, who was now curled up in her lap. “He is adorable, isn’t he?”

“Yes, quite adorable,” Rohan said.

“What kind of lessons can you give a kitten?” Toby asked. “All he’ll want to do is play and eat and sleep.”

“Not too many, since he’s so young,” Rohan said. “It’s just what you’d call an introduction to racing. You’ll see, Toby. Now, you two, would you care for breakfast?”

Rohan picked up the sleeping kitten out of Susannah’s lap, lightly rubbed his fingertip under its chin, and laid it on his shoulder. It was all so very natural. Only for an instant did Susannah wonder if the kitten would fall off, but he didn’t. No, Rohan knew exactly what he was doing.

She followed him to the breakfast room. Toby left them to ride to the village for his lessons with Mr. Byam.

They were alone. Rohan left the kitten on his shoulder.

When the silver dome on the platter of bacon was raised, however, the kitten’s nose started twitching. “No, you won’t eat on the table,” he said, and set the kitten on the rug beside his chair. He crumbled a small portion of bacon on a plate and set it in front of him. Alongside it, he placed a small saucer of milk. He said absently to Susannah, “Just a tiny bit of bacon. It’s too strong for a kitten’s stomach, but just a taste won’t hurt him.”

“Are we going to Oxford today?”

Rohan straightened in his chair. The kitten was lapping up the milk. He’d snaffled down the bacon in two frantic bites.

“Why would you ask?”

“You said yesterday that we would go.”

“I can’t imagine your wanting to come with me now, Susannah. You would have to share a room with me at the inns we will stop at. There would be no place for you to hide.”

“Oh, that.”

Her eyes were on her place. The slice of buttered toast was limp in her hand.