The Purloined Heart (The Tyburn Trilogy) by Maggie MacKeever

ears. The sightseer suggested that the parks’ custodians should be notified, and the dog forthwith impounded and executed for his crimes.
    “No! We must do something!” Maddie cried.
    “Take the reins.” Angel leapt to the ground.
    The attendant, the milkmaid, the cowman and the sightseer fell silent as the gentleman approached —  none doubted that this was a gentleman, and a fine example of the breed. The dog whuffed and wagged its tail. Sternly, Angel said, “You need not try and turn me up sweet, you troublesome beast! I should leave you to your fate.” A spirited discussion ensued, the attendant and the milkmaid, the cowman and the sightseer having regained the use of their respective tongues. At its conclusion, coins changed hands. Angel returned to his carriage accompanied by a large, dirty canine.
    Not without difficulty, he boosted the beast into the phaeton and climbed up after it. The vehicle had not been designed to hold two adults and a large dog. Undismayed by the cramped quarters, the dog arranged itself across Maddie’s lap and gave Angel a friendly nudge. Angel’s brushed beaver hat tumbled to the ground.
     “Yes, you are a splendid fellow,” said Maddie, as the dog licked her chin. “And you must be grateful to Mr. Jarrow, who has told a great many whiskers on your behalf.” She fended off another canine caress. “I wouldn’t have thought you so needful of companionship, sir.”
    “I’m not.” Angel climbed down to retrieve his hat. “Your sons, however, are.”

Chapter Thirteen
     
     
    Tale-bearers are as bad as the tale-makers. —Richard Brinsley Sheridan
     
     
    Sir Owen was secluded in his study, reading the details of a new Bill which provided that the Surveyor of the Works should receive a salary large enough to induce him to devote himself exclusively to the performance of his official duties, when that peaceful haven was invaded by two footmen and a large dog. The footmen were damp and disgruntled, the dog having introduced them to one of his favorite games, try-and-catch-the-trailing-leash.
    One footman went so far as to malign the canine’s parentage. The dog leapt up, planted his paws on the footman’s shoulders, and licked the fellow’s face. The second footman grabbed for the trailing rope. The dog nimbly evaded him, plopped atop the first footman and said, “Woof!”
    Demanded Sir Owen, “What the deuce? ”
    Maddie entered the room. “Hush!” she said.
    The dog hushed. Sir Owen did not. “Explain yourself! Is that a dog ?”
     Maddie contemplated the culprit. “What an odd question. It never occurred to me he might be something else.”
    “How dare you speak to me in such a manner!” blustered Sir Owen. “I—”
    “You are surprised that there was a to-do about it.” Maddie had hovered in the hallway several moments before screwing up her courage to beard the lion in his den. “Indeed, I was myself. It was obvious that Lappy was trying to herd the cows. You, sir, remove yourself from atop that poor footman at once!”
    Sir Owen, who had never been atop a footman, or a maidservant for that matter, huffed and sputtered and banished both servants to the hall. The dog started to follow. Maddie snatched up its leash.
    “Sit down!” she commanded. The dog sat. “Allow me to introduce you to Sir Owen. He is the owner of this residence, and you must be on your good behavior else you will make him cross. Sir Owen, meet Lappy. We have decided to call him Laelaps, after Zeus’s magical hound that always caught its prey. Lappy is growing old and has been retired from service, to his regret.” Maddie scratched the dog’s ear. He rolled an amiable eye in her direction and thumped his tail. “He has just had a nice bath, which he enjoyed very much even though the footmen did not.”
    Sir Owen stared at the pair of them, as taken aback as if his daughter had sprouted a second head. The dog did look newly bathed. His daughter looked as if she might similarly