“Well done,” Evie said. “You are quite the hero.”

“No more than you. I am Gregory Blakemore.” He inclined his head, still holding her hand.

Now she knew him—they’d met last Season in London. “Don’t you mean Lord Gregory?”

The man’s father was a marquess. Or had been. Evie recalled that he’d passed away in the spring. Which meant Lord Gregory’s older brother was now the marquess.

“I suppose,” he responded. “Seems unnecessary here, in this moment,” he added. His brows knitted. “Have we met?”

Evie released him. Somewhat reluctantly, which she refused to credit. “Last Season. You were nearly courting a friend of mine—she is now Lady Overton.”

“Ah. Forgive me for not recalling you, Miss…”

“Mrs. Renshaw,” she said. “I am widowed.” Why had she felt the need to add that detail?

“So young,” he murmured. Not terribly young. Evie was twenty-five. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She always felt a small sting of discomfort when people said this. Because she wasn’t actually a widow. Evangeline Renshaw was a fabrication. Or, more accurately, a reinvention. “I’m sorry for yours—your father, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

She saw the flash of sorrow in his warm brown eyes. “Were you close?”

He nodded. “I miss him a great deal.”

Evie wondered if he still had a mother—she’d lost her parents long ago. It was just her and her older sister, Heloise. “At least you have your brother,” she said kindly.

This time a shadow passed over his features. “I do.”

There was an undeniable tension in his response, but Evie wasn’t going to pry. “What are we going to do about the dog?” He—that was no longer in question now that he was free and fully visible—was happily snuggled in Lord Gregory’s embrace. Evie fancied that was a rather nice place to be. She wondered what he smelled like.

No, she did not. Would not.

“You should take him home. And feed him immediately. He feels rather skinny.” He scratched the pup’s head. “Aren’t you, boy?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Evie tried not to sound aghast. “I can’t have a pet.”

Lord Gregory appeared bemused. “Why not?”

“Because…I’ve never had one, and I don’t know how. Please, you must keep him.”

He looked down at the dog. “I suppose we should try to see if he has an owner. Perhaps one of the tenants had a litter in recent months. I’d say he’s a few months old at least.”

“I will tell Alfred—that is, Mr. Creighton—about it.” Alfred was Evie’s brother-in-law, but since she’d reinvented herself two years ago as Mrs. Renshaw, she couldn’t claim Heloise as her sister. Not without exposing herself and her disreputable past.

Lord Gregory’s eyes lit. “How is it you are associated with our new neighbors?”