part0008

A pril’s scratchy toes pierced her bodice and rasped against her skin as she pounded away. Little matter, if it meant she was away from Collins faster.

Dreadful, dreadful man, thinking he could simply order her to give up dragons. The audacity! The pomposity! It was not as though he were her husband and had that authority in the first place.

The woods embraced her with open arms, closing around behind her. Lungs burning and legs protesting, she leaned against a sympathetic tree and gulped deep, heaving breaths.

April peeked above her hand. “Is he gone?”

“We are, my dear, which is nearly as good.”

April hopped to her shoulder, fluttering until every feather-scale was back in place. “You should tell Longbourn what has just happened.” April poked Elizabeth’s ear with her sharp beak.

Had she any idea of what a very, very bad idea that was? As much as Longbourn wanted her to marry Collins, if the wyvern thought him any real threat … She shuddered.

A loud squawk resounded among the trees as wings crashed through the branches and stirred up dead leaves. Rustle flipped his wings to his back and bobbed his head. “We saw you running into the woods. Your father sent me.”

She dragged her hand down her face. “I suppose I am directed to return to the house straight away?”

“I am not a messenger bird. You have heard no such thing from me.” Rustle waddled toward her, head cocked.

He stretched out his neck. No doubt he was itchy.

She crouched and obliged his request. He cawed and pulled away, rattling his feather-scales in draconic contentment. Little made a dragon happier than a good scratch. Were it only that men were so easily pleased—and distracted.

She leaned her head against the tree trunk.

“I saw Collins with you. What did he do?” Rustle extended his wings, dry leaves kicking up in their wake.

Such a sweet, protective gesture. No doubt he would put Collins’ eyes out if she asked.

April swooped down and hovered in front of Rustle. “He wants to see me banished to a cage and for her to give up all things draconic.”

Rustle squawked—not a conversational squawk, but the one that preceded a hunt. Often the last sound his prey would ever hear.

That was a cry of pain!

Rumblkins crashed through the bushes, nearly landing on Rustle. He hissed, beating his wings, rising a hand span off the ground. Rumblkins’ fur stood on end, and his serpentine tail swelled and lashed the ground.

Elizabeth jumped between them, raising her cloak to block their sight of one another until they regained their senses enough to recognize their keep mates. “Step back, both of you. I will drop my cloak, and you will greet each other properly, as friends. Do you understand?”

Elizabeth lowered the edges of her cloak.

Rumblkins crouched low and touched his forehead to the ground. “Forgive me, Rustle. I did not look before I leapt.”

Rustle squawked and plucked a hair from the back of Rumblkins’ neck. “I receive your apology.”

She crouched beside Rumblkins. “What sent you running blindly into the woods?”

He turned his side toward her and licked his serpentine scales. A dark bruise spread over his ribs. “Collins. I crossed his path. His boots are very hard.”

She held her hand out to him. “Pray, let me see. How badly are you hurt? Might there be something broken?”

He grumbled as she ran her hands over his side. It was swollen, but the bones seemed sound and the swelling was not the kind that implied bleeding within.

April buzzed and circled over them. “This is bad, this is very, very bad. Violence against a dragon, even an unrecognized one, is a very serious act.”

Unfortunately, she was right. Accidents were one thing, but this was certainly no accident.

Rumblkins licked his side, so cat-like. A cat with a forked tongue and scales. “Mrs. Hill saw him do it. She swung her rolling pin at him. Said he had no business kicking her friend and she had half a mind to kick him herself.” He looked so satisfied as he licked his thumbed paw.

“Good. I hope she hit him.” April zipped between them.

“I hardly think that a good thing. Papa would have to dismiss her. She might even be jailed for the assault, and then where would we be? I should like to put a poultice on this when we return to the house, and I will make you some special tea as well. It should be better in just a few days.”

Rumblkins pressed his head into her hand.

“The fluffle-bit is right.” Rustle hopped nearer. “This is a very serious business.”

Serious and complicated. Very, very complicated.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her temples. “He does not know your true nature, so it was not an intended act against dragonkind. A fit of temper, absolutely, but nothing more.”

Now she was defending Collins? This was too much.

“That might be a mitigating consideration; however, it was against a creature with whom he was familiar, with whom he knew the family was affectionate. If he had kicked a random creature in his path, it would be different, but this—no, it is abhorrent.” Rustle rocked from side to side, wings slightly extended. “A Keep Conclave is warranted.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Now was not the time for a burgeoning headache. No, not at all. “Whilst I understand why you say that, pray let us not go to that extreme now. I can manage this without involving Longbourn.”

“Why?” April hovered before her face. “After all Collins has said, and all he has done today, I think it exactly the right time to escalate this to the local Laird.”

“Longbourn has been much agitated as of late. Bringing more to him right now cannot end well.”

“You have not been able to manage either Collins or Longbourn very well so far.” Rustle scratched at the ground.

Dragon directness and dragon stubbornness. What a truly delightful combination.

A dull thud reverberated in her feet. No! Of all times—now?

Dry leaves crunched, and branches snapped. Longbourn’s enormous head poked through the trees. “What should you tell me?”

His voice rumbled in her bones.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” She hurried to his side and scratched under his chin.

“Ah, yes, right there.” Longbourn cocked his head and exposed his ear. “You have been away too long. That is good!” His heavy tail swished through the underbrush.

“Turn a bit, you itchy creature, and let me reach the other side.” She pushed his shoulder.

He shuffled sideways and contorted himself to give her access to his other ear. A solid, two-handed scratch elicited more happy groans and decidedly canine foot thumping.

“He most certainly should concern himself.” April pecked Longbourn’s nose.

“Pray do not bother him with trivial issues. All is quite well.” Bulging her eyes did nothing for her headache, nothing at all.

April squawked and landed on Longbourn’s muzzle. His eyes crossed as he tried to focus on her. She paced up and down his snout. He flicked his ears and grumbled.

“All is not well, ask Rumblkins.” April pointed with her wing.

Rumblkins approached. How did he manage to limp through his funny tatzelwurm spring-and-hop?

Longbourn sniffed at Rumblkins’ bruised side. April hopped over the wrinkles that formed on his snout. His huge, bulgy eyes turned on Elizabeth. “You are able to help him?”

His hot, acrid breath raised sweat on her cheeks. “I will take him back to the house and tend him there. He will be fine. Perhaps I should take him with me now. I can carry him—”

“Laird Longbourn.”

No, not Rustle, too!

“Do you not wish to know why we would trouble you with something like this?” Rustle extended his wings and touched his forehead to the ground.

Elizabeth glared from Rustle to April. “We did not come to trouble you at all. You were the one who came upon us, remember? Perhaps for a nice scratch? Here let me—”

Longbourn shook his head and sent April flying. “No scratching until I hear this out.”

Nose to nose with her, he snorted in her face. “Those of my Keep have presented a complaint. I will hear the full account. What happened to the fuzzy, hopping one?” He pulled up to his full height and towered over her.

What was it about dragons and men that they employed that same tactic when they were trying to intimidate her? It was not endearing in either incarnation.

“Can you not trust me when I tell you it is nothing for you to be concerned about?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

He sniffed her, from the top of her head to her feet and up again. “I smell … fear! That is fear! Who has made you afraid?” Longbourn stomped. The branches rattled. “You all smell afraid. What made you afraid?”

Rustle and Rumblkins jumped over his whipping tail.

“Pray calm yourself before you hurt someone! That is what I most fear right now. The other is nothing I cannot handle on my own. You do not need—”

“I will make that decision, not you. I have asked you a question. I expect an answer.” He reared up and beat his wings, roaring.

It was a soft roar, for a dragon roar, but it reduced her innards to jelly. She squinted against the dust kicked up in his wing-wind. He was not angry with her. Surely, he would not try to grab her again, as he did before. Surely not.

April landed directly between his eyes and pecked his snout. “It was Collins. He kicked Rumblkins for no reason. He grabbed at me and knocked Elizabeth to the ground, hurting her shoulder and nearly landing on me. He wants me locked in my cage and tried to forbid Elizabeth from talking to the children about dragons and the Blue Order. He is hostile to dragons and all things related to us.”

Elizabeth grabbed Longbourn’s face and pulled it toward her. “Do not bother yourself with these matters. It is nothing I cannot handle.”

“Why are you defending him? You detest the man. He made you afraid of him today! You cannot handle him.” April zipped back and forth between him and Elizabeth.

“What did he do to make you afraid?” Longbourn extended his wings again. He exposed his fangs, a tinge of ocher formed at their tips.

Apparently, he was the only one allowed to make her afraid.

“She ran from him into the woods.” How kind of Rustle to make mention of that.

She covered her ears against another dragon bellow.

“Why did you run?”

“It was a simple misunderstanding. Entirely my fault. I will talk to him about it, and it will all come to naught.”

“When he could not shout at her, he kicked Rumblkins.” Rustle sounded like little Daniel tattling on his siblings.

“We are all afraid of him and afraid for her. He has already hurt one of us. It is only a small step from that to hurting her.” April landed on her shoulder and touched her cheek with a wing.

“You are aware that when she marries him, the laws of man permit him that.” Rustle said.

Longbourn growled and scratched the dirt, tearing deep trenches with his talons. “Then I will simply tell him to behave. The little man will not dare disobey me.”

Elizabeth clutched her throbbing temples.

Longbourn flipped his wings neatly to his back and stared at her, like a school master who had just proven his point.

“I understand your desire is to protect me, to protect all of us. But it cannot be handled that way. He is completely dragon-deaf. He does not even respond to the fairy dragons’ songs.”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“If he is to be made a Deaf-Speaker, we must handle the transition very carefully. You know how dangerous such men can be. The Blue Order must approve it before anything can be done. The process cannot be hurried or all of us could be at very great risk.”

“You cannot keep him in order, so I must step in and manage him for you.” Longbourn thumped the nearest tree with his tail.

Dead leaves rained down upon them. She fanned them away from her face.

“This cannot be handled by dragon force. His transition must be subtle and careful—”

Both things that dragons were not.

Longbourn’s fiery eyes narrowed. “Why must you constantly argue with me? Is this another means by which you are trying to escape your marriage to him?”

“No. If I am to marry him, then I must be allowed to manage him myself, without your interference.”

“I am tired of you trying to shirk your duties.”

“Are you even listening to me? Stay out of this. I will cope with it.” She rose to tiptoes and stared in his face.

Longbourn turned to the minor dragons. “Have you forgotten that I am your Laird? You are here in my Keep by my will alone. I will not have you conspiring against me with her. I may very well—”

Stubborn, ridiculous creature!

“You will not threaten our friends! I will not have it.” She stomped so hard her heel stung. “Have you forgotten, the Keeper has as much say in the Keep as the Dragon? Perhaps you need to refresh your understanding of the Pendragon Accords. If you ever threaten them again—”

“You will what?” Longbourn roared in her face.

“Whatever I need to do to protect them—that is my oath as a Dragon Mate.”

“And if I do not accept them?”

Enough of the pompous posturing. He was as bad as Collins.

She pushed his muzzle away with both hands. “Do not force me, Longbourn. You may not like the results.”

He jerked his head back. “You would jeopardize your standing as a Keeper?”

“You would turn your back on your duties as Laird to his Keep?”

Longbourn huffed and stomped. “You wish to find fault with me?”

“No, actually I do not. What I would like most is to be able to oil your flakey hide and brush it properly. I would like to polish your teeth and sweeten your breath, and simply spend time with you again as we used to.” Her throat ached.

“There is nothing stopping you.”

“Then you do not understand anything at all. Pray excuse me.” She curtsied and turned away.

“Come back. This conversation is not over.” The ground rumbled beneath her feet.

“I have nothing more to say.” She did not stop walking.

“I want you, Keeper. Here. Now.” He stomped.

She jumped. “Then make me want to return.” Her walk became a run.

Longbourn roared and thundered after her, cutting her off. “You are my Keeper. You must do as I say.”

“There is nothing, absolutely nothing in the annals of the Blue Order which say such a thing. A Dragon and his Keeper are partners, equal partners. We should need each other, not consider one master and the other servant.”

“Exactly! I need you.” He blinked at her with baleful eyes.

“I do not need to be ordered about by a brute that does not care about me.”

“I do care about you. I would do anything to protect you.”

“Except learn what I truly need.” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Why could she not manage to control her tongue?

“I understand perfectly. You do not—” There it was, that perfectly petulant draconic look. If she never saw it again, it would be a very good—if very unlikely—thing.

“Stop, I will not have that conversation again. Pray, leave Collins to me. I shall manage him—somehow.”

Longbourn grumbled deep in his throat. “Very well.” He nudged her with his snout.

No doubt he wanted scratches and to be told what a lovely fellow he was. Rumblkins appeared at her feet, looking very worn. She picked him up and held him to her chest. Oh, he was a heavy little fellow.

“Excuse me, now. I must return to the house and deal with Rumblkins’ injuries.” And the one who caused them.

He snorted and muttered, but did not follow.

Just beyond the woods, Elizabeth paused near a fallen tree and sat down, settling Rumblkins in her lap.

“He is a preposterous, grouchy old lizard. How could he think revealing our true nature to Collins would do any good at all?” April settled into Elizabeth’s hood and pulled a fold over herself.

“That, dearling, is why I did not want you interfering. I know you were trying to be helpful, but pray, do not be so helpful again.”

Rustle squawked overhead. “There was no reason to think Longbourn would resort to such drastic action.”

“You do not know Longbourn as I do. He is apt to be rash and unthinking. He prefers to do things in the easiest way possible, not necessarily the wisest. Usually I can dissuade him from his most reckless ideas, but he can be stubborn. The situation is so dangerous right now, I cannot afford—we all cannot afford—to incite his stubbornness. Pray leave him to me.” She massaged her temples.

“I was given to believe that major dragons were, by their nature, sensible creatures.” Rustle scratched the side of his head with his talons.

“They would have you believe so, but they are not any more sensible than most men. Some are very wise and trustworthy, and some … some are not.”

April tucked her head behind Elizabeth’s ear and cuddled. “I am sorry. I did not mean to make things worse.”

Elizabeth petted Rumblkins with one hand and patted April with the other. “I know. You were afraid, and that does not leave anyone thinking clearly. It will all be well. Somehow. I know it will be.” She stroked Rumblkins furry-tufted ears. “How do you feel?”

“Tired and sore and hungry. Longbourn might have a good idea, though. Collins could suffer an apoplexy on seeing him, and die. I would not complain about that.” He pressed his head against Elizabeth’s hand and purred.

“While the idea may have some appeal, I doubt it could work out so very simply. The next heir would have to be found. He might well be even worse.”

“The estate would not go to you on his death?”

“No, that is not the way the laws of men work.”

April and Rustle squawked an offended note.

“They are stupid.” Rumblkins’ long, scaly tail lashed back and forth, then wrapped tight, around her waist.

“I have had the same thought often enough.” She rose and lifted Rumblkins to her shoulder. “I need to get you home.”

Hill met them in the garden, swinging between delight that Elizabeth had found Rumblkins and outrage over Collins. With Hill’s help, Elizabeth prepared the promised poultice for Rumblkins’ bruises, and a tea to speed his healing.

He complained that it tasted funny, but with some coaxing and some dried cod from Hill, he drank it down and settled into his fireplace basket. A few minutes later, he purred very happily.

“Do you think it wise for me to bring his basket to my room tonight, Miss? I know Collins won’t be going in there at all.”

Rumblkins mrowed and flicked the tip of his tail, almost as though he suggested the idea himself.

“I think he would like that very much.”

Hill was spoiling the tatzelwurm awfully, but it made them both so very happy—and the house and garden so very free of rats—that it was difficult to find fault.

“Very good, then. Come along, and we shall keep you away from that horrid man.” Hill grunted as she lifted the basket and trundled out.

That horrid man. The sentiment summed it up very well.

At least Rumblkins would recover soon. Hill would probably carry a grudge though, and given that the house would be Collins’ someday, that could be a problem.

But a problem for the future. There were enough to contend with now.

Elizabeth scrubbed her face with her hands. It would be dinner time soon. Her stomach churned. She asked Cook to inform Mama that she was unwell and would not be coming down for dinner.

Sleep. That would clear her head. In the morning, she would think of something.

Several days later, Darcy’s morning ride took him past Cait’s folly. The sun sat low in the sky, warming the morning to brisk and refreshing. Exactly as one should begin a day.

The carved limestone folly resembled a round Grecian temple topped with a wrought iron birdcage. The iron work was of the finest quality, and the swoops and swirls brought to mind images of wind and clouds. But it still resembled an elaborate bird cage.

According to Aunt Catherine, Collins had said as much in Cait’s hearing once, and she nearly took out his eyes. Comparisons to birds and cages tended to bring out the worst in her temper.

Over the last few days, Cait’s mood had become progressively worse, and the entire household blamed him. Technically it was Pemberley, and not him, who threatened to drive not just Cait, but every dragon and Dragon Friend to distraction, but no one was going to blame a vicontes when a human of no rank could be blamed instead.

In truth, it could not all be attributed to her, either. Rosings should never have explained what lancing meant. Truly, who would tell a youngster such a thing?

Now, Pemberley was nearly hysterical anytime someone unfamiliar visited the lair. What was more, she kept the old dog that had traveled in the dog cart with her to protect her. Thankfully, no one reminded her that the dog was nearly blind and deaf.

Darcy clutched his temples. There was no telling how long that dog would live. He probably needed to find a puppy to raise with Pemberley so she would not be without a companion when the old one died. Where exactly did one find a dog that would tolerate dragons? Perhaps Wellsbey, the minor drake who helped with the sheep, could assist.

Yes, that was a very good thought. Best be sure to remember that one. Good thoughts seemed in very short supply recently.

Cait swooped across the horse’s path. It shied and nearly reared.

She perched on one of the iron curlicues near his eye level.

“You have been around horses enough to know better than to startle one!” Yes, scolding a cockatrix was a bad idea, but this habit was more than annoying. It was dangerous.

“I have far bigger concerns than horses right now.” She picked at her shoulder feathers.

“If you had caused me to be thrown from this one, you certainly would! Can you imagine the disruption to the estate, and to Pemberley—and to Walker for that matter—should I have been seriously injured or killed? I know you care little enough for me, but think of your own convenience!”

“I wish you had never come.” She stared at him and hissed.

“Believe me, I should much rather have stayed in Meryton with someone who knows something useful about baby dragons!”

“Then why did you not?”

Walker swooped down, chittering and scolding. He landed on a nearby tree limb. Heaven forbid he perch on Cait’s folly.

“Because, you feather-pated ninny, he was told to leave by the estate wyvern who was playing host to Pemberley.”

“A wyvern threw you out? Was he utterly insensible of the honor given him by the presence of a vicontes in his lair?” She extended a wing, showing off the vibrant blue feathers on the underside. “Is that not the estate the bumbling vicar is to inherit?”

“Unfortunately,” Darcy muttered.

“The wyvern should just eat the man and be done with it. Surely they can dredge up a better heir even from the bottom of the Thames.”

Darcy patted the horse’s neck. “Whilst that might be true, that would be against the Accords, which are in the process of amendment right now. I think that is making the wyvern rather desperate and foolish in his attempts to horde what he considers his treasure.”

Walker cast him a very odd look. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic to liken Miss Elizabeth to a treasure, but in some ways—many ways, in fact—her way with dragons was.

“Well it is a bloody shame—”

“Cait! That is not ladylike language.”

“Which is not a problem considering I am a cockatrix.” She preened her wing.

“You will not use that sort of language around my sister when she arrives.”

“He is right. She is already shy enough around dragon-kind. It would be quite damaging for you to scare her off by threatening her delicacy with your vocabulary.” Walker bobbed his head.

Cait ruffled her wings, making them large and fluffy.

Lovely, just what he needed, another fight between those two. Why did they not simply leave one another alone if they could not manage to get along?

She flipped her wings over her back. “Very well, I will restrain myself in her presence. But there is a price attached to that promise.”

Of course, there was. Darcy dragged his hand over his face. “What do you demand?”

“You will tell Lady that I will not be the one to lance Pemberley’s gums. She has got this addlepated notion that my talons are the perfect tool for the task. What kind of fool does she take me for, asking me to put my limbs into a cranky dragon’s mouth?”

No one in their right mind would take on such a task. Of course, no one in their right mind would insist upon it either.

Darcy chuckled into his fist. “That I will do.”

“It is too bad that Meryton Keeper did not have some sort of solution for all this muddle.”

Walker squawked and flapped. “Darcy, you are an idiot!”

“That is ever so helpful, thank—” Darcy’s jaw dropped. “I completely forgot!”

“That Miss Elizabeth sent you with pages and pages of advice on baby dragons. Surely there must be something there on teething.” Considering his tone, if Walker could have slapped his forehead, he would.

“You could have saved us all this inconvenience?”

“I do not know, but I am going to find out.” Darcy pressed his heels to the horse’s side, and they took off for the house at a trot.

Behind him, Cait and Walker chittered back and forth in dragon tongue, probably mocking him.

But they were right. Miss Elizabeth had given him ample notes of dragon lore, and somehow, in the strain of getting Pemberley settled in at Rosings, he had entirely forgotten about them.

At the house, he ran for the stairs, but Aunt Catherine cut him off. How did she know that he had just arrived? There must have been a dragon set to watch for him. The butler’s puck, most likely. He was good at that sort of thing, especially if promised a shiny button—his favorite trinket—in return. When one visited Rosings, one always brought an ample supply of buttons.

“I have good news, Nephew.” She positioned herself between him and the stairs.

“I do not have time for neighborhood gossip, Aunt.” She must have used that maneuver often, for she knew exactly how to place herself to make it impossible to skirt past her.

“Gossip? How dare you accuse me of such a base activity? This has nothing to do with the neighborhood, and everything to do with you.” She poked his chest.

“Pray then, tell me quickly. I am on an urgent errand.”

“I have found a Blue Order surgeon who will come and lance Pemberley’s gums.”

He clutched his forehead. “Has he ever done such a surgery on a dragon?”

“He does babies all the time.”

“Does he know he is to operate on a dragon?”

“Of course, what do you take me for?”

“Does he know the dragon is an infant firedrake?”

“I do not recall that I mentioned her species.” She twitched her head and shrugged.

How kind of her to leave off a little detail that might make the surgeon think better of the assignment.

“Call him off. I believe I have another solution.”

“And what might that be?”

“I do not know, yet. I have to do some reading.” He brushed past her and bounded up the great stairs.

She muttered something behind him, but little matter. He would deal with her temper later.

Where had he put those pages? They were surely in his room somewhere.

He tore through the closet, his trunks, the desk. Nothing!

He was not in the habit of mislaying things. How could this have …

The bed curtains rustled.

“Quincy!” He stormed toward the bed.

A loud squeak, followed by a scratching of taloned toes on the wood floor.

Darcy dropped to the floor and stuck his head and shoulders under the bed.

“Good day.” Quincy, the butler’s puck, sat on his haunches and cocked his head, wearing a toothy dragon rendition of a smile.

“As you wish.” Quincy scuttled into a sunbeam.

He was a short, four-legged, long-tailed dragon, resembling a lizard that came halfway to his knees. His smooth shiny scales started at his nose in a pale green, blending to darker green and nearly black by the time they reached his tail. Subtle dark stripes covered the length of his body. A short fin ran along his spine between two little nubs on his shoulders, vestigial wings according to dragon lore. His hood was folded back along his neck right now, but when he became angry, as he soon would, it would flare out behind his head, making him look much bigger than he was.

“You know you are not allowed in my room.” He tapped his heel hard enough to jar the floorboard Quincy sat upon.

“The maids let me in.”

“No, they did not. I ordered them not to do so.”

Quincy smiled and flicked his tail, like a dog wagging. Some thought him cute.

“You have taken my papers.”

Quincy chewed at a spot behind his wing nub.

Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have the time or the patience to play this game with you. If you do not immediately return them to me, I will tell Cait that you have taken them and now she must lance Pemberley’s gums because they are missing. Pemberley will not appreciate it either.”

Quincy’s hood flipped out around his head. His body puffed, and he hissed.

“That display will hardly impress either of them. You know Cait’s temper.”

Quincy chewed the talons of his front paws. “Wait here. I will be back.” He scurried through a small hole in the bottom of the servant’s door.

That would have to be fixed immediately, even if he took hammer and nails to it himself.

A quarter of an hour later, sheets and sheets of paper were shoved, one at a time, under his door.

Cowardly little lizard.

He retrieved a button from his locked trunk and tossed it through the hole in the servant’s door. That should mollify the puck’s dignity.

Miss Elizabeth’s hand was incredibly neat and easy to read. He traced his fingers down the pages, skimming.

It was hardly surprising that she had never encountered a teething firedrake before, but she had comforted a teething drake. That should be similar enough. It had to be.

A bone instead of a teething coral, something he could acquire readily enough. Oil of clove, and oil of peppermint? A little lavender oil as well. Surely the local apothecary had those.

It was simple. Almost too simple to bother with. Perhaps it was a fool’s errand.

But the alternative was to allow a strange surgeon access to Pemberley with a lancet. Pemberley might never forgive him, and then where would he be? At least, if he tried these methods, he could say he had tried “her” advice. Perhaps she might forgive him then.

And he had to do something. His dragon was suffering and could be in serious danger. No Keeper could stand idly by under such circumstances.

The trip to Hunsford proved successful, but annoying. Why did shopkeepers always ask the same things? Why had he not sent a servant for these items? Would he not be interested in better wares? Perhaps something more?

Gah! It took far too long to get what he needed and leave. At least the beef bones fit in the floor of the gig well enough. The horse did not like the smell, but horses and dragons were often in conflict, so that was neither new nor remarkable.

He parked the gig a quarter of a mile from the lair and gathered his parcels. Pray let this work, even a little, just enough that he could call off his aunt’s efforts.

He paused at the opening, allowing his eyes to adjust. The old dog woofed. Probably more because of the smell than anything else.

“Rosings, may I approach?”

Her huge head poked out of the deeper darkness. “Do you bring … help … for the young one?”

“Yes, I have consulted an expert and had a different, much more appealing suggestion.”

Rosings pressed her head behind his shoulders and pushed him, stumbling, toward Pemberley’s nest.

“Keeper?” Pemberley whined and pawed at her jaws.

“‘Her’ has written to me and told me what to do.”

“Her?” Her huge green eyes widened.

“Yes, ‘her.’”

“She knows everything. She help.” Her voice sounded so much like Georgiana’s when she wept! “What she say? Not cut me?”

“No, she does not recommend that.”

Pemberley laid her head on his shoulder and flicked his ear with her tongue. He wrapped his arms around her neck and held her a moment. Could a dragon cry for happiness?

The old dog snuffled at the parcels.

He crouched and removed a meaty bone from paper wrapping. “See, I have a treat for your companion. I have not forgotten him.”

“Her would like that.”

Miss Elizabeth probably would.

He removed a large beef bone and held it up to Pemberley. “Her says to rub this with a little oil of clove, of peppermint and of lavender. Then you are to chew it until you feel better.”

“I … I like chew.”

He anointed the bone and handed it to her. Pungent herbal aromas filled the cave. How odd. The scents mixed very well with dragon musk. Somehow that was very reassuring.

Pemberley flicked her tongue over the bone, brows wrinkling at the unfamiliar taste.

“Her says it will make you feel better.”

She took the bone and laid down beside the dog. They gummed their prizes in tandem.

Several minutes later, Rosings tapped his shoulder with her chin and whispered, “I think it is working, look at her tail.”

Pemberley and her dog were both wagging the tips of their tails in a happy rhythm.

“I will see you have fresh bones whenever you have need.” He rubbed the typically-itchy spot right between Pemberley’s wings.

“I like bones! Her knows everything!”

Perhaps not everything, but he certainly would not allow those notes out of his possession again. Once Georgiana arrived, perhaps she would be willing to write to Miss Elizabeth for further advice on Pemberley.