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been tied outside at the cottage, and Knowle Castle was filled with priceless antique rugs. Corin did make sure one of the stable boys would look after the dog, keeping Spooky with him at all times, especially at night. With a name like Spooky and a place in Miss Armstead’s array of outcasts, the dog was most likely afraid of ghosts. He’d be better off in the stables, sharing a cot with the lad. Not that the castle was haunted, of course, despite local whisperings that Corin did not discourage, since they kept his formidable mama in Bath. No, he thought, scrubbing his hair again to get the road dirt out, the dog was undoubtedly named Spooky because of his black color.
    He was a nice dog, too, friendly and intelligent without any demonstrative shows of drooling devotion. Corin decided he wouldn’t mind having the spaniel around.
    The castle was a big, empty mausoleum of a place. Why, Primrose Cottage could fit in the viscount’s private wing. Here Corin was, rattling around by himself except for the scores of servants. It would be much nicer, he decided, to come home to a loyal companion, to uncritical and uncomplicated affection.
    Yes, he’d offer for Miss Melissa Wyte, by George. The girl was a beauty and an heiress, and she’d make him an excellent hostess. With her background she wouldn’t be too high in the instep to entertain members of the Commons, as well as of the Lords. Furthermore, she seemed like a pleasant, polite chit. She wouldn’t make scenes or make a man uncomfortable. Miss Wyte would never contradict her husband, much less shout at him. She was certainly too well bred to laugh at him when he was down.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Early the next morning, wearing an apron over the new gown that Mavis, Mrs. Penn, and two maids had stayed up sewing, Angelina proceeded to make the promised list of resident dogs. Some belonged to various members of the household, as their own pets, and would leave with Cook or the Penns or the gardener when those worthies retired. Angelina listed them in parentheses, to make sure his lordship did not accuse her of hiding any creatures. She also wrote down Ajax’s name and the three little terriers she could never part with.
    Upstairs, downstairs, Angelina double-checked with the maids and the footmen to make sure she hadn’t missed a single animal before going outside. She made notes as the schoolchildren brought each dog back from its walk, and led the students on a counting session in the stable and barn. She did hope the vexatious viscount wouldn’t take it into his head to verify her count in person, for she doubted a noted sportsman like his lordship would appreciate finding Foxy in the tally. But poor old Foxy had no teeth. He wouldn’t last a week out in the woods without Cook’s lamb stew and chicken pies and porridge.
    Finished with the list, Angelina took it inside to make a neat copy of all six pages while the children were at their lessons. Since most of her pupils were needed at home to help get fields ready for planting or to move the sheep closer to the shearing pens, Angelina dismissed them early again. She handed the list to Tom, the youngest footman, for delivery to the castle.
    Tom returned with the donkey cart and a grin. “His lordship wasn’t in,” the servant reported. “So I left the note with his niffynaffy butler like you said, Miss Lena. Uh, Miss Armstead. That’s what Mr. Penn says we should call you now.”
    Angelina brushed his confusion aside. “Lena is fine, Tom. But what of Lord Knowle? Did the butler say where he was, or where Spooky was?”
    “He said they was out together. Shooting.”
    “Oh, dear. With a bow and arrow?” she asked hopefully.
    Tom’s grin grew broader. “With a rifle.”
    “Oh, dear.” Angelina opened the gate to Spooky’s pen. Then she took off her apron.
    Corin was enjoying his tromp through the home woods despite the slight drizzle starting to come down. He admired the new green leaves, the busy