“Tempting though that thought is, I draw the line at abusing small animals.” The kitten spat at him. “No matter how much they might deserve such treatment. I’m simply going to try to snare the beast.”

“His name is Francis, after St. Francis of Assisi, who loved all the animals and beasts in the field. He sleeps with me and keeps me warm at night.”

Blinking once or twice at the inadvertent imagery, Leo made a rough loop with his brace and attempted to toss it over the cat’s head. It fell short by several feet. “You need to watch your pronouns when you make statements like that.”

“Do you have family here, like my grandmamma?”

“No. I’m just passing through.” He grunted as he slid on his belly along the branch, refusing to think about what the movement was costing his clothing. “I’m on my way back to England.”

The girl’s brow wrinkled. “Are you here because of the war?”

“War? What war?” He slid along another foot. He was almost within reach of the monster.

“Papa says the English attacked our ships two days ago. Papa says there are no more ships in the harbor and that the English killed hundreds of sailors. Did you kill any sailors?”

“Not to my knowledge. I’m on my way to Copenhagen from St. Petersburg, and I hope to heaven your father is wrong about the ships.” He paused for a moment and thought about what the girl had said, eventually shaking his head. No, he hadn’t heard any word of a war intended against the Danish. True, he’d been incommunicado these last three weeks while he traveled from the depths of Russia out to the Danish coast, but surely he would have heard at least a whisper of such a thing had the Admiralty intended on attacking.

Then again, given how unhappy the prime minister and his advisers were with the Scandinavians on the whole—what with their lenient trade attitudes toward that blighter Napoleon—a war wasn’t entirely out of the question. But realistically? He shook his head again. The navy would have to be crazy to launch an attack against the Danes. Their navy and army combined were a minute force compared to that of Britain and her allies. “Now then, let’s see if we can’t end this debacle.”

A quick flick of his wrist later and the cat was snared. Gently he held the bucking kitten steady while attempting to wrap a handkerchief around his (now bleeding) hand.

“You caught him!” the child squealed in delight, clapping her hands.

Leo quickly rearranged his hold to avoid all of the kitten’s sharp, stabby bits. “Here, you, Anna or whatever your name is—”

“Amadelle.”

“No, really? Your mother must be quite inventive. Here’s your blasted kitten.” He clung to the tree with one arm while leaning down as far as possible, the kitten still hissing and spitting at him. The girl was a brave little thing, for without the slightest hesitation she reached up and accepted the monstrous kitten, removing the loop from around his neck in order to snuggle him. Dewy tracks down her cheeks bore testament to her distress previous to his arrival, but all was forgotten as she beamed up at Leo.