The Purloined Heart (The Tyburn Trilogy) by Maggie MacKeever Page A

benefit from hot water and soap. “You can’t—”
    Ah, but Maddie could, when her sons’ happiness was at stake. “I decided the boys will be less homesick for Meadowmount if they have Lappy’s company.”
    “ You decided—”
    “I can’t imagine why it didn’t occur to me earlier. Boys and dogs belong together. I have boys. Now, as it turns out, the boys have a dog. I have been shockingly remiss in not realizing before that they were missing their pets.”
    Sir Owen slapped his newspaper against the table that stood beside his chair. “I believe I have some say as to who —  or what —  resides beneath my roof.”
    “Oh, every say!” agreed Maddie. “If the dog doesn’t suit, I could have Brigit fetched to town. I’m sure your horses won’t mind sharing their quarters with a cow.”
    Sir Owen had not realized before that his daughter was demented. “Did you get into the port? There will be no cow.”
    “ Or ,” continued Maddie, “we could return to Meadowmount.”
    “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” bellowed her father. “And don’t try and tell me you brought that —    dog here by yourself.”
    “Oh, no!” Sir Owen’s face had grown so red that Maddie half-expected to see smoke issue from his ears. “Viscount Ashcroft escorted us home from the park. But it was Mr. Jarrow who discovered the name of Lappy’s owner and arranged matters to the satisfaction of everyone concerned.”
    Not everyoneconcerned. A megrim had sprung up behind Sir Owen’s right temple. “Angel Jarrow? How does he figure in this, pray?”
    Maddie wished she knew. She hadn’t truly believed, when Mr. Jarrow persuaded her into his phaeton, that he was bent on ravishment; and if she’d harbored a few improper fancies, no one ever need know they had flitted through her mind. “His sister is married to Viscount Ashcroft’s cousin. Mr. Jarrow seems a helpful sort of gentleman.”
    “Angel Jarrow helpful? Not unless it involves a warm body and a bed.” Sir Owen eyed his daughter. “You wouldn’t—  No, of course you wouldn’t. More to the point, he wouldn’t. There must be a streak of lunacy in your mother’s family. It certainly doesn’t come from mine.”
    He wouldn’t, would he? Maddie assumed an innocent expression. “Is Mr. Jarrow’s reputation so very bad?”
    “The man is a philanderer. Worse, he’s a Tory. And those who lay down with Tories, my girl, get up with fleas. Now take that abomination away and leave me in peace!” Sir Owen returned to his reading. Maddie grasped Lappy’s leash and led —  tugged —  him through the doorway, along the hall, and into the drawing room, where she collapsed on a chair. Lappy huffed in sympathy and rested his chin on his front paws.
    Although she had wagered with herself that Sir Owen would ultimately if unenthusiastically accept this latest addition to his household, Maddie hadn’t felt half as calm as she attempted to appear. Brangling with her father always made her ill. But she’d not soon forget how her sons’ faces had lit up when Mr. Jarrow informed them —  over her protests —  that they now had a dog. She’d not allow that pleasure to be taken from them. Her hands were trembling. She folded them in her lap.
    Sir Owen hadn’t threatened her, as she had feared he might. He’d been so thunderstruck by her impudence that he hadn’t even shouted more than usual. “Nevertheless,” Maddie said to the dog, which resembled a large shaggy rug stretched out on the hearth, “we must keep you close at hand.” Sir Owen wasn’t beyond having Lappy taken away and drowned. As would have Mr. Tate. Maddie hoped Penn and Benjie didn’t grow up to resemble her papa and their sire.
    The door opened. “Mrs. Holloway,” announced one of the footmen who were waiting in the hallway to learn what unpleasant task might be expected of them next.
    Louise entered the room and pirouetted. Today she wore a gown of flounced figured muslin and a green