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“Aye, lad, I’ll join ye,” he agreed, trying to sound eager. “Ye go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

To his surprise, Gus glanced over his shoulder at the damned cane, resting where Cassian had originally sat. Without looking him in the eye, the boy left his post and darted across the room to snatch it up, then hurried back to thrust it at his father without meeting his gaze.

Stunned at the thoughtfulness—and darkly pleased he wasn’t going to have to hobble across the room on his own—Cassian took it mutely. Before he could force his throat to work and issue any thanks, Gus had wrenched open the French doors and was running pell-mell across the lawn.

“Uncle Dickieeeeee?—”

Thoughtfully, and far more slowly, Cassian followed.

Gus had made no secret of his anger for his father’s sudden return. Although Cassian didn’t fully understand it, he didn’t doubt it—nor blame the lad. He’d been absent most of his son’s life, and now he had nowhere to be except in Gus’s business. Cassian would likely be angry too.

Had he any experience with fathers in general, that was.

Aye, Gus was angry with him, but he’d still shown compassion by fetching Cassian’s cane for him so he didn’t have to limp across the room. That hadn’t been necessary, but it had been… kind .

His son was kind .

Must be Artemesia’s influence .

Except Artemesia had been dead for nearly six years now, and the lad barely remembered her. Lady Zilphia Biggenpans’s influence then? Sir Richard?

Or…

Was it possible the lad’s obsession with the animals in Sir Richard’s growing menagerie had done that?

Frowning in meandering thought, Cassian slowly—refusing to allow himself to limp—approached the group staring at the unmoving elephant.

Sir Richard—with Gus standing off to one side, hands in his pockets, rocking anxiously on his heels—was speaking to the veterinarian, whose attention seemed to be on…

On the woman at his side.

Cassian had been raised as the grandson of a poor vicar until his father had finally acknowledged him and sent him off to school, and his holy grandfather would have beaten his arse for the way his body responded to the woman standing beside the veterinarian.

She has lips made for sin .

Aye, and her lips were just about all he could see of her, what with her being bent over that notepad. Cassian shifted his weight, hoping his cock wasn’t showing up to join the conversation and offer to become a second cane.

Ye just glanced at her, ye arsehole. Get yerself under control .

And he might have, had her little pink tongue not darted out from between those lips then, sending a shock right to his crotch. Swallowing, Cassian found himself stepping closer, until he forced his body under his control by gripping the handle of the accursed cane.

There was a flash of dark blue from beneath her lashes, and in that moment he knew she was looking at him.

Fook . As if his legs weren’t weak enough already. Better focus on whatever Sir Richard was blathering on about.

With great difficulty, Cassian dragged his attention to his portly and beaming host.

“—fellow in Glasgow I bought her from—he’s the one who sold me Jerald the llama, and that pair of marmosets—said she’s been pregnant for about a year now.

Or rather, I’ve had her for a few months, and he’d had her for the rest of the time, and she’d apparently been pregnant the whole time. Is that possible?”

The veterinarian, a tall young man with auburn hair under a simple hat, nodded and hummed. “Och aye, apparently. This fellow, he regularly imports big animals like…like elephants and lemurs?” When the woman cleared her throat without looking up, he corrected. “ Llamas , I mean. Big animals.”

“Oh, no!” Sir Richard chuckled jollily, hooking his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets and rocking back on his heels before sobering.

“This was his first elephant, he said. Too expensive to feed, he said. My Zilphia has always wanted one, you know—we rode one in India on our honeymoon.” He winked at the veterinarian.

“Did a bit more than just ride atop one, if you catch my drift, excuse me, miss.”

This last was said to the woman at the side of the veterinarian, as if Sir Richard was only just now noticing her. Cassian didn’t see how it was possible; he hadn’t stopped noticing her.

She was shorter than her companion—husband? Nay, thank Jesus, Sir Richard had called her miss —and had hair several shades redder than his, hidden beneath a bonnet a few seasons out of style. Right now she was bent over a little notepad, scribbling furiously.

The veterinarian, who had smirked weakly at Sir Richard’s claim, now glanced down at her notepad, seemed to read what was written there, then lifted his gaze and cleared his throat. “And how long did the gentleman who sold it to ye have her?”

The older man frowned. “I don’t know. Is that important?”

The veterinarian glanced down at the woman at his side.

“Is that important?” Then he immediately shook his head and plastered on a smile as he turned back to Sir Richard.

“I dinnae ken if it’s important, that’s why I asked.

Can we find out? Was the elephant sick in his care, or just since she moved here to Inverlochy, that sort of thing. ”

Sir Richard puffed up. “I’ll have you know I only feed her the best! I’ve had my share of expectant mothers in my menagerie, and…” He deflated slightly. “Well. She’s not acting right. Damned peaky, poor thing. Lying down. Quiet. Off her feed, don’t you know.”

Cassian found himself glancing down at his son, reminded of Sir Richard’s defense of the lad at dinner a week ago. Off his feed. Gus was chewing on his bottom lip, glancing between the newcomers and the elephant.

Before he could think better of it, Cassian placed his hand on the lad’s shoulder, and Gus reared back, whirling in shock. Resisting the urge to wince, Cassian schooled his features and nodded to the elephant.

“She’ll be aright, laddie,” he murmured. “The doctor will cure her.”

He must have spoken too loudly. Because while Gus stared up at him in surprise, the veterinarian seemed to notice him.

“Of course she—we— I’ll fix it— her right up. She’ll be right as rain in no time.” Smiling, he stuck his hand out. “And I’m the veterinarian.”

What an odd introduction.

At his side, the woman’s gaze shifted upward to the clouds as she pressed her lips together. Was she praying for the stricken beast? Trying not to laugh?

Cassian told himself he was hobbling toward the pair of them because it was expected he shake the man’s hand, and not because he wanted another glimpse of the woman’s dark blue eyes.

“Cassian Grey,” he grunted, accepting the man’s hand. “My son, Augustus.”

“Hello,” the man said cheerfully, shaking first Cassian’s hand, then Gus’s, with too much enthusiasm.

“I’m Hunter— Doctor Hunter…Butcombe.” It was unlikely anyone not trained by Her Majesty’s Secret Service would have missed his awkward stumble.

“Doctor Hunter Butcombe. And this is my sister, Gabby. Gabrielle. She’s come along to… keep notes for me.”

Finally, an excuse to shift his attention to her . Sister, eh? And she wore no wedding ring .

Cassian told himself he only noticed such things—and the way her hips swung as she turned, and the curve of her neck under her upswept hair—because he’d been trained to notice.

Not because it mattered that she wasn’t married.

“Miss Butcombe,” he acknowledged, inclining his head. He was not going to take her hand. He couldn’t afford to, not after the way his body had reacted to just the sight of her.

Dear God, she wasn’t even wearing gloves. Definitely the right decision.

Besides, after a firm nod in his direction, the woman was scribbling on her notepad again. The doctor glanced down at it and visibly winced.

“Take notes and follow my instructions, of course!” he announced too loudly, turning back to Sir Richard. “Gabby is really quite capable, if ye have any animals that need looking after while we’re here.”

“Well,” hedged the portly knight, glancing between the doctor and the reclining elephant, whom even Cassian could see was breathing laboriously.

“Well, if you trust her, I suppose I don’t mind if she pops in to check on a few of the menagerie.

Learned everything from her brother, I expect!

The elephant is far too expensive to trust to an amateur, you have to understand. I’m sorry, my dear.”

Rather than looking chagrined, Miss Gabby Butcombe nodded firmly. “What is her name?” she asked, and Cassian started.

She could speak? And when she did speak, her voice reached down into his chest and wrapped around something and tugged hard ?

Of course she can speak, ye dobber. She was likely just too busy taking her brother’s notes to speak before .

Sir Richard was obviously as surprised as Cassian, because he was gaping at her. “Does it matter?—”

“Of course it matters,” the doctor exclaimed. “That’s why she—why I—why we asked it!”

His sister was nodding. “If an animal was raised in captivity, she’ll know and respond to her name when I—when we—when Hunter examines her.”

“Elizabeth,” blurted Gus. When all eyes swung on him, including Cassian’s, he flushed, but stuck his chin out. “Her name is Elizabeth, and Uncle Dickie says she was born in captivity, in France.”

The redhaired beauty was nodding thoughtfully, although her gaze switched to Cassian. “It seems your son is interested in the animal, Mr. Grey. Perhaps he would like to join us when we examine her?”

Cassian heard Gus’s excited inhalation at the proposal, and so nodded. Or tried to nod. Intended to nod. Just as soon as he stopped staring at the way her midnight blue eyes contrasted with that bright hair…