Love Practically (The Penn-Leiths of Thistle Muir, #1)

by Nichole Van

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single lady in possession of no fortune must long to marry a duke’s son. Unfortunately, Miss Leah Penn-Leith feared she had inadvertently killed one instead.

He smiled at that, teeth flashing and sending a zing of pleasure chasing her spine. The sensation was akin to winning first place in the jam-making contest at the Fettermill Summer Fair. (Which she had done. Twice.)

A poof of white fur streaked into the room, arching over a side table—nearly toppling a decanter of brandy—before flying across the leather sofa and crashing into a bookcase, sending a dictionary tumbling. Cats. People and cats. Fox was done with them all. “Mr. Dandelion McFluffles!” An angry, piping voice called from the doorway. “You are being soooo naughty!”

“Ye know . . .” Hadley began, “I ken there is something ye could do now that might improve the odds of your suit.” Fox found himself caught between a growl and a chuckle. “Don’t say it.” “Get yourself a wife,” Hadley winked. “The judges will be more keen tae find in your favor if you’re seen tae be a family man.” “A wife? Have you not been hearing me, your lofty earlship? I need a competent nurse for Madeline, a cat tamer for that wretch over yon—” Fox jerked his chin toward Mr. Dandy, sitting on the window sill and staring at them as if plotting their demise. “—a fairy godmother to hire devoted servants, a clerk to balance my household accounts, and a bodyguard to ensure no one disturbs my peace.” “So in other words,” Hadley lifted his glass, “a wife.”

“Pardon? Could ye repeat that?” Malcolm pulled off his hat and rose to his full height. “Captain Carnegie proposed marriage tae me, and I accepted.” Silence. Loud, buzzing, thunderous. “When?” “Just now.” Leah nodded back toward the house. More silence. Malcolm slapped his hat against his thigh, staring at his favorite coo, Moona Lisa.