Pragmatism had replaced romanticism—reality instead of girlish daydreams.
Her desire for love had been exchanged with a passion for adventure. At least that’s what she believed this restlessness besetting her was. She’d approached Mama and Ansley about the possibility of traveling to exotic foreign destinations. But both had looked at her with such incredulity, she might’ve sprouted a pair of wings upon her shoulders or feathers in her hair.
Her mother and brother did not share her enthusiasm for exploring other cultures and places. They were perfectly content dividing their time between London during the Season and Fawtonbrooke Hall the rest of the time.
Oh, an occasional short holiday to Bath or Bristol, or even a jaunt to France or Scotland for a few days, might be acceptable. But nothing so dramatic or distant as exploring ancient cities or other antiquities.
However, for a spinster facing a boring, lonely future, the notion of visiting faraway, mystical places had taken the place of her desire for love, marriage, and children.
Or so Nicolette told herself. Repeatedly. Daily.
However, as contradictory as it might be, she was sincerely glad for her married friends. Several had recently fallen in love and were happy as grigs with their very own dukes. Just because love hadn’t worked out well for her, didn’t mean she begrudged them their happily ever afters.
She, alone, seemed to have been Cupid’s failure.
Puzzling her forehead, she bit her lower lip and skirted a fallen branch, a remnant from last night’s windstorm.
The whole being jilted ordeal still hurt. Awfully. Encompassed Nicolette with a desolation, she only acknowledged when lying in her lonely bed at night. When all of the day’s activities were behind her, and her mind was, at last, permitted to contemplate the reality she stoically ignored otherwise.
Nicolette faced a solitary and purposeless future, and when she’d grown tired of proving to le beau monde that she didn’t care about being tossed aside, what would she do?
Upon spying a twig on the path, Bella yipped and tugged upon her leash. She pounced on her unwitting prey before clamping her little jaws around the eight-inch long stick and marching along proudly for a few steps, her curled tail in the air.
Only in the last couple of weeks had Nicolette’s training Bella to walk on a leash met with enough success that the puppy could accompany her the entire length of her morning walks.
When an immense long-haired black dog loped by on the adjacent green, she promptly deserted her toy, dropping it to the pathway and trying with all of her might to chase the dog. The runt of her litter, Bella had no notion of her extra small size, even at almost four months old.
In the distance, an impatient male voice called after the large dog. “Sampson! Stop.”
Oh, dear. Had he escaped his owner?
Undoubtedly, and one snap of his big jaws would severely injure Bella.
“No, Bella,” Nicolette gently admonished.
The biscuit-colored pup was still learning appropriate leash behavior. She strained against her restraint, her sturdy little body visibly quivering for another moment before Bella reluctantly resumed her version of strolling.
These early morning promenades, when Mama was still abed, were the only times Nicolette claimed for herself. She raised her face to catch a ray of sun feathering through the bright green foliage.
Its warmth soothed and rejuvenated her.
It was a glorious spring morning, and she breathed out a deep, cleansing breath.
Typically, the weather would’ve invigorated Nicolette and helped prepare her to face whatever social fracas Mama had decided she must endure for the day and evening.
Always—always, dash it all—with the ultimate goal of seeing her happily wed. Mama wasn’t ready to quit the field just yet regarding Nicolette’s nuptials—more’s the pity. She still dreamed her only daughter would find a suitable husband and eventual contentment.
And live happily ever after.
Pshaw. Nicolette wrinkled her nose.
As if that was ever going to happen now.
She’d given love a chance once, and with a few exceptions—her brother Ansley, Earl of Scarborough, being one—she’d henceforth concluded men were toads. No, toads could be cute, intriguing creatures, and it was unfair to make the comparison.
Surely she could do better than that.
Cockroaches.
Yes, men were cockroaches—the lot of them.
Most especially handsome dukes.
Well, excluding her friends’ husbands—the Dukes of Sheffield, Sutcliffe, Bainbridge, and Pennington—who were decent enough chaps, she supposed.
Fine then, not all lords were devil’s spawns. Just most.
Mindful of her propensity to freckle, Nicolette lowered her face, and her pink bonnet’s brim blocked the soothing sunshine once more. A smile tipped her mouth as Bella spotted a squirrel and made to charge after the small creature.
However, this particular squirrel, nearly as big as the pug, wasn’t having any of Bella’s bravado. It sat upon its haunches, scolding the puppy soundly for her impudence.
“Ruff.” Bella hopped on all fours. “Ruff. Ruff. Ruff.”
Hop. Hop. Hop.
She bounced on her sturdy little legs again, whining fretfully in her attempts to reach the taunting rodent.
Why, the little gray wretch appeared to grin tauntingly at Bella. It’s small, sharp, yellow teeth clearly showing, it even made little chirping noises, which sounded distinctly like squirrely chuckles.
The dog that had raced by earlier must’ve heard Bella’s frantic barks for it came tearing across the green straight toward them. Nicolette’s heart faltered before kicking into double time.
A liveried footman charged after the creature, but he couldn’t possibly catch the animal before he was upon Nicolette.
Good Lord!
Was the enormous beast friendly?
She wasn’t waiting to find out.
She’d just scooped Bella into her arms when the rambunctious, hairy dog plowed into her. Panting and drooling, it reared onto its hind legs.
Heaven’s above!
Releasing a startled squeak, Nicolette staggered under the creature’s weight. Resting his enormous paws on Nicolette’s arms, all the while rooting about with his broad muzzle, the brute tried to sniff Bella.
“Miss Nicolette!” Jane screamed, dropping her flower and rushing forward, wielding the parasol like a saber. She whacked the mongrel on his haunches, but she might as well have used a feather for all the good it did.
“Get away from them!” she cried.
Thwack.
“Leave her be, you great, hairy brute!” Jane ordered.
Thwack. Thwack.
Nicolette well knew Jane didn’t possess the gumption to strike the dog hard enough to hurt it. Not that it would feel much through the thick pelt covering its large frame.
Her heart stampeding and Bella growling a warning low in her throat, Nicolette wrapped her arms more securely about the outraged, wriggling puppy. Shoulders hunched, she turned her back to the other dog, still persisting in trying to snuffle Bella.
Why must dogs always greet one another with intrusive, and sometimes rather embarrassing, sniffing?
Nicolette feared that at any moment, she’d feel sharp teeth shredding her flesh or hear Bella shriek in pain.
What manner of owner permitted their dog—a dog this large and intimidating—to run wild in Hyde Park for pity’s sake? In truth, the circumstance might send a woman with a less robust constitution into histrionics or a swoon.
Nicolette wasn’t prone to either. She wasn’t that sort of woman and didn’t plan on becoming one.
The dog hadn’t growled or bared its teeth, and therefore, she deduced it wasn’t vicious. But the sheer size of the beast made standing upright almost impossible. Under the creature’s weight, Nicolette stumbled forward a pair of steps. It certainly felt as if the dog weighed almost as much as she.
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sp; A shrill whistle rent the air a fraction before a stern male voice ordered, “Sampson. Down.”
Sniffing loudly and giving one last determined lunge toward Bella cradled in Nicolette’s embrace, the dog succeeded in knocking her off balance. She didn’t even have time to cry out before she tumbled forward.
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Seductive Scoundrels Series Books 4-6: A Regency Romance Page 38