*Gabriel*
“I saw Blanklake’s Golden Fleece this afternoon,” I tell Theo just before the evening meal, “and I can forget the idea of trading my Cossack Fleece for his English one.”
“Really?” My majordomo c***s an eyebrow. “After meeting your esteemed relative, I cannot help but think that the young she-wolf may succumb to your charms, impoverished though they are.”
I give him a wry smile. “I’m not that desperate. My uncle nearly ran down their carriage because he thought he heard his dog barking. The yapping came from a pack of mongrels the size of fleas. And the Fleece is as unattractive as her dogs: overdressed, overly bold with her eyes, and overly gaunt. I have minimal standards, but I have them.”
“I like her,” Theo says thoughtfully. “And she has only three dogs.”
“They’re the kin
