How to Pursue a Princess Read Free Page B

forever.”
    Lily planted a kiss on Papa’s forehead and then stood. “Come, Dahlia! You must help me pack. I’ve men to impress, and a future husband to find!”

Two
    From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe I sent out a lure to Lily Balfour, and it seems that she has finally—to use one of Roxburghe’s horrid fishing terms—“taken the bait.” Now I’ve but to plan a house party and cajole certain eligible young men to exchange the entertainments of London for a few weeks of amusements at my country estate here in Scotland.
    Such a feat might be difficult for other hostesses, but I have the ultimate enticement to lure handsome bachelors from the madness of the London season—fields teeming with foxes and pheasant, and a stable filled with the finest hunters imaginable.
    Bless Roxburghe. He is an excellent husband.
    Floors Castle
    May 7, 1813
    A young footman ran lightly down the back steps into the servants’ quarters, hurried around the corner,then knocked on the washroom door. A muffled voice bade him enter, and he hurried inside, only to stop in astonishment. Three tubs of warm water had been placed in a line, where six housemaids—working two together—scrubbed roly-poly pugs. More maids and the housekeeper, Mrs. Cairness, worked at another table, where they dried additional balls of fur with large towels.
    One of the pugs barked and then attacked the towel as the housekeeper tried to dry him. She chuckled and played tug-of-war with him for a moment before she wrapped the other side of the towel about his round body and rubbed him dry. Finished, she kissed the pug’s head before she handed him to a waiting footman, who carried him to the next table.
    There, two maids and the butler, Mr. MacDougal, stood in wait. The maids held a pug between them as the butler carefully combed its hair, trimmed its nails, then tied a kerchief about its thick neck.
    The footman, belatedly remembering his purpose, stepped forward. “Mr. MacDougal, I—”
    The butler held up a gloved hand.
    The footman gulped back his words.
    MacDougal squinted at the dog in front of him, then picked up a silver-backed comb and carefully ran it over the dog’s left ear. It was an older dog, his muzzle well grayed as he sat panting, his tongue hanging to one side of his wide mouth as he stared at the footman through milky eyes.
    The footman shifted from foot to foot, waiting.Finally, the butler tilted the little pug’s face up and said with a note of approval, “There’s a guid lad, Randolph. Now ye look quite the gentleman. I believe her grace will approve.”
    The pug’s little tail twirled as he barked in agreement.
    The butler placed the silver comb back on the table and said to the maid, “Take Randolph to the kitchen fer his dinner. Cook was preparing their dishes when I left a half hour ago. Once ye’ve finished, return here. Her grace will be home soon and they must all be bathed by the time she arrives.”
    “Yes, Mr. MacDougal.” The maid curtsied, then carefully gathered Randolph and hurried from the room, careful to close the door behind her.
    The butler turned to the footman. “Now, John. What did ye need?”
    John blinked. Lord, but he’d almost forgotten why he’d come in search of the butler. It wouldn’t do to be so slack in his duties before Mr. MacDougal. The butler was a fixture at magnificent Floors Castle, having served her grace since he’d been a young lad of seventeen, the only servant who could claim such longevity. As such, MacDougal had unprecedented power. “Yes, sir. I came to tell ye that—”
    “Here, Moira.” Mrs. Cairness was toweling dry another of the pugs. “Take puir wee Teenie to Mr. MacDougal to comb. He’s as dry as we can make him.”
    The housemaid bundled the dog in his towel andcarried him to MacDougal, who eyed the damp hair with a critical eye. As the butler began to comb the dog, he asked, “Well, John? Out wit’ it.”
    “Yes, sir! I’m sorry, I was distracted by the