His mouth full, Reverend Shackleford shook his head.
‘Nicholas was holding a ball for him,’ Agnes enthused into the pause. ‘Can you imagine that? A Duke holding a ballespeciallyfor my son.’
‘Tare an’ hounds, Agnes, you’re talking complete deuced poppycock as usual. It weren’t specifically for Anthony. Peter’s finally finished at Eton and taking his place in Society.’
His wife gave an indignant sniff. ‘Well. I’m certain Grace at least would have ensured there were plenty of wealthy young women present for Anthony to choose from.’ She stopped and frowned as a sudden thought took her. ‘I do hope they made sufficient enquiries as to the dowries being offered.’ The Reverend shook his head wearily.
‘Likely, they had to fill in a form just to get a deuced invitation,’ he declared wryly, raising his eyes to the heavens.
‘Oh well, that’s a relief.’ Agnes responded, completely missing her husband’s drollness. She dipped her spoon into her pudding and lifted it towards her mouth before adding, ‘Do you think Nicholas would allow us sight of them?’
∞∞∞
‘I thought Miss Davenport seemed especially taken with you,’ Grace declared as they climbed into the carriage after their final overnight stop.
Anthony sighed. ‘If I listened to you and Peter, I’d be under the impression that every female with a pulse was especially taken with me.’
His sister pursed her lips while Peter gave a small chuckle. ‘It’s true you’re a handsome devil,’ the Viscount grinned. ‘Though – and please don’t take this personally – I can’t imagine where you get it from.’
‘I seem to remember Augustus was rather handsome when he was younger,’ Nicholas commented, giving his son a reproving look. ‘He was considered quite a catch.’
Both Grace and Anthony looked incredulously at the Duke. ‘It’s true,’ Nicholas protested with a chuckle of his own. ‘I have it on good authority.’ He shrugged and smiled over at his wife.
‘I remember when he arrived in Blackmore,’ he continued. ‘My brother and I were around eight at the time, I think. The unmarried women in the village were falling over themselves in anticipation.
This time Peter joined the other two wearing identical disbelieving expressions. ‘You have to remember that the previous incumbent had been at least eighty-five by the time he retired,’ Nicholas added with a wide grin, ‘and given that the poor fellow had actually been Blackmore’s resident priest for at least sixty of those years, mayhap you can understand the excitement.’
He paused for a moment, clearly lost in reverie. It was so rare for the Duke to talk about his childhood that the other occupants of the carriage held their breath, waiting to see if he would continue. At length, he turned towards Grace. ‘I remember your mother,’ he murmured softly. ‘She had hair exactly the colour of yours.’ He reached over and tucked an errant curl behind his wife’s ear.
‘I didn’t know you’d ever met her,’ was Grace’s equally soft response. At times, she couldn’t quite believe how her husband had changed from the bitter taciturn man she first married. But even now, all these years later, he found it difficult to talk of his youth.
‘Oh, I never actuallymether,’ Nicholas responded drily. ‘My father did not allow either of us to fraternise with the village riffraff.’
‘He’d be turning in his grave now then,’ Grace responded tartly.
‘I sincerely hope so,’ retorted the Duke before turning back to Anthony and firmly changing the subject. ‘The dog?’ was all he said, nodding towards the coach driver’s box at the front of the carriage. Only his inflection indicated it was a question.
‘I couldn’t leave it behind,’ Anthony defended. ‘The poor thing was starving. He likely wouldn’t have lasted the night.’
‘I’m not entirely sure the innkeeper would have shared your sentiment had he actually observed you cutting the rope,’ Nicholas responded brusquely. ‘And while I’m certain Thomas is wildly enamoured to be sharing his box with a three-legged mongrel smelling worse than a privy. What exactly are you going to do with him?’
‘Well, naturally I’m going to bathe him first,’ Anthony responded with a shrug, ‘and then I’m going to train him.’ There was an ominous silence. ‘The hound reminds me of Freddy,’ he added finally, plaintively.
‘As I recall, Freddy had all four limbs intact,’ Peter countered.
‘Well, I’m sure Father will be absolutely delighted,’ Grace grimaced, shaking her head.
‘And if he isn’t, Flossy certainly will be,’ added Peter. ‘I’m told there’s nothing a woman loves more than a wounded hero. Isn’t that right, Father?’
∞∞∞
Georgiana finally relaxed as the stagecoach clattered through Exeter town gates and out onto the open road towards Plymouth. She’d never been beyond the confines of the wall, not that she could remember anyway. She’d grown up looking at it, wondering what lay on the other side, especially when she was feeding the pigs. She’d stare at the wall, daydreaming that on the other side lay a magical kingdom where her real parents were looking for her. The fantasy never lasted long and usually ended up with the end of old man Grimm’s switch round her legs. And for all she knew, she could have been born within half a mile of the godforsaken corner the Grimms called home. But somehow, she didn’t actually think so.
Once when she’d spilled milk all over the floor, Martha had screamed, ‘You ain’t worth the bloody pittance we get. Bleeding Uxleys.’ And though she hadn’t reacted at the time, George knew that was her name. She was Georgiana Uxley.
She reasoned thatGeorgianahad to be her real name – there was no possibility that the narrow-minded couple who raised her could possibly have concocted something so outlandish. And as long as she could remember, they’d dressed her in britches and called her George.
And now, having used some of her newfound wealth to wash and buy a serviceable but reasonably clean second-hand jacket, shirt, properbreechesand even shoes, George finally allowed herself to believe she was free. And since she was prepared to defend that freedom with her very life, she also availed herself of a small but sharp knife, which she tucked in the bottom of a small bag, along with some bread and cheese.
