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1. The Enemy Arrives
I am an excellent judge of character. It is a skill I take great pride in. I know, with absolute certainty, who is friend and who is foe.
Which is why, when the Tall Man arrives, I know at once: he is a danger.
My mistress’s scent—normally calm, warm, and familiar—is off. Tension crackles around her like an oncoming storm. Her heartbeat, steady and strong, now races. She hesitates before stepping forward, her movements unsure.
I, Sir Newton, protector of Kate, terror of the enemy, do not like this.
The scent of arrogance clings to the Tall Man. He strides into our home as though he owns it, his voice smooth, his smile far too sharp. He is too tall, too broad, too smug for someone who has yet to earn my approval. His presence alone is an offense, but the way he looks at Kate—like a hunter stalking prey—is intolerable.
Kate’s posture stiffens, her hands clenching at her sides. She is nervous. I do not like this.
As the Tall Man sits, making himself far too comfortable in our space, I make my move. I trot forward, placing myself between them, a noble shield against the dark forces of Handsome Men Who Smirk Too Much.
Kate’s hand finds my head, her fingers curling into my fur. But the Tall Man—he only raises an eyebrow.
"Ah," he muses, "the infamous Newton."
I narrow my eyes. So, he knows my name. That does not make him worthy.
Kate lets out a huff. "Do not try to win him over, my lord. He is an excellent judge of character."
I beam at my mistress. I am, indeed.
The Tall Man chuckles, reaching for a biscuit from the tea tray. "Is that so?" He examines me before breaking off a piece and offering it in my direction. "Perhaps he just needs some incentive."
I sniff the offering. He smells of horse, soap, and deceit.
I stare at the biscuit. Tempting. But I am no fool. I turn my head away, resolute.
The Tall Man sighs dramatically. "Pity. I had high hopes for you, Newton."
I huff again. I have no hopes for him.
Kate is tense. I feel it through the hand she still rests on me. And so, I do what any good protector would do—I make my stance clear. Shifting slightly, I press more of my weight against her legs, ensuring that no space exists between us.
The message is clear: She is mine. I do not trust you. Stay away.
The Tall Man only smirks. He is not nearly as clever as he thinks.
2. The War Begins
I have seen my mistress in many moods. She is strong, quick-witted, and occasionally (though she would never admit it) dramatic.
But I have never seen her like this.
Her pacing is erratic, her scent sharp with irritation. And yet—there is something else. Something I cannot name.
She rants. She mutters to herself. And then—
"Ugh! That man!"
My ears perk up. The Tall Man. I knew it. He remains a threat.
I prepare myself to comfort her. Surely she is furious, disgusted, ready to rid herself of his presence forever. But then—She smiles.
She was just angry. She was just huffing and muttering and stomping about like she wished to throw him into the Thames—and now she is smiling?
Worse—her fingers lift to touch her own lips, her gaze distant, thoughtful.
What game is this?
She lets out a soft sigh, her expression unreadable. Then, as if suddenly remembering herself, she scowls and shakes her head, resuming her rant.
I am more confused than ever.
First, she despises him. Then, she… does not. This is dangerous. This is unnatural. I must remain wary.
3. The Betrayal
It is over.
I have lost.
The proof?
Kate is beaming. Not her usual smirk, nor the indulgent smiles she offers Edwina.
No. This is different. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are bright. And worse—
She is smiling at him.
At. Him.
The Tall Man stands beside her, his hand placed over hers.
And she allows it. She does not pull away. She does not glare or sigh or threaten him.
She… laughs.
I stare in abject horror.
Is this some kind of curse? A spell cast by an evil sorcerer? Had my Kate—strong, independent, no-nonsense Kate—been bewitched?
And then she does something truly unforgivable.
She presses her face into his shoulder.
This is a nightmare.
I let out a low grumble. This is unacceptable. I must stop it.
I shift, nudging my head against her legs. Surely this will break the spell. Surely—
"Newton, be good," Kate murmurs, reaching down to scratch my ears absently.
I freeze.
Be good?
No. No. I am warning her of impending doom, and she tells me to be good?
The Tall Man smirks. He has won. He knows he has won.
All is lost.
4. A Peace Offering
It is done.
Kate and the Tall Man—Anthony—are joined. He is no longer just the enemy. He is her person.
And…
Well.
He is not all bad.
Kate smiles when she sees him now. She is happy. And I—I would do anything for her happiness.
Even this.
Anthony enters the drawing room, pausing when he spots me watching him. He smirks. “Ah. My greatest critic.”
I huff. He is not wrong.
He moves to sit, and as he does, I make my decision.
With great reluctance—and great dignity—I rise and step forward. Slowly. Deliberately.
He watches me, wary but amused. “What’s this?”
I stop before him. I give him a long, measured look.
Then, with great ceremony, I flop onto his feet.
A gift. A sign of trust. A great honor.
Anthony blinks. Then, after a moment, he chuckles, reaching down to scratch behind my ears. “I see,” he murmurs. “So, I’ve finally won you over.”
I make no sound.
He is still a fool. But he is Kate’s fool.
And so, I suppose, I will allow it.