Gabby gave up on the idea of Lady Sylvia using her proper name. Clearly she considered her “gel,” and nothing else.

“These are my Three Graces,” Lady Sylvia said, gesturing at the dogs with her burning cheroot so that little wisps of blue smoke flew around her head.

“Charming,” Gabby murmured.

“Hope, Truth, and—” Lady Sylvia peered around. “Oh, yes, that one is Beauty.”

Everyone looked where she pointed. Beauty had just squatted under one of the chairs lining the entryway. A small trickle was creeping across the marble floor.

“She’s too intelligent to pay mind to me,” Lady Sylvia said blandly. “All three dogs are French, and they behave just like Frenchmen. Decorative but peevish.”

Codswallop coughed politely. “Will the Three Graces be housed in your chamber, my lady?”

“Naturally, Codswallop. And you don’t have to take up the carpet. Beauty is only letting us know that she is disgruntled about the carriage ride. She’ll settle down soon enough.”

Codswallop gestured to a footman, who bent down and tried to pick up Beauty. She promptly bit him on the hand.

“Burn my breeches!” Lady Sylvia exclaimed. “Never had ought to do with dogs, Codswallop? They won’t let a stranger pick them up. Too intelligent for that.”

Given the expression on the footman’s face, it was clear that he would have liked to boot the intelligent dog out the door. But Lady Sylvia had swiveled about and was hallooing through the open door.

“Dessie? Dessie, get in here, gel! That’s my companion,” she explained to Gabby. “Desdemona, she’s called. She’ll take charge of the little dears.”

A cheerful-looking woman entered the door. “I’ve sent your trunks around to the back, my lady. I don’t believe they’ll fit in the front door.”

“Look what’s happened, Dessie. Naughty little Beauty has made a statement on the floor.”

Dessie bent down and picked up the dog in question and briskly swatted it on the bottom. “You know better than that.”

Gabby watched, fascinated, as Beauty’s topknot wilted and her small face drooped.

“Those dogs won’t give me the time of day,” Lady Sylvia said with approval, “but they positively adore Dessie. Good thing too. I don’t mind if Beauty makes a water closet out of Dewland’s front hall, but she’d be mincemeat if she tried that in my house.”

Gabby choked back a giggle. Dessie had gathered all three dogs in her arms and was heading up the stairs behind Codswallop, whose rigid back indicated strong disapproval.

Quill cleared his throat. “May I escort you to your chamber, Lady Sylvia?” He held out his arm.

“Course you may,” she answered. “Reckon I’ll never be old enough to turn down a gentleman’s escort to my chambers.” Lady Sylvia looked around for somewhere to put her cheroot. When she didn’t glimpse an appropriate receptacle, she tossed it straight out the open door.