“And why are you frowning?” he asked as they moved on again, leavingthe local corn factor and the ironmonger content. “Am I offending yourradical sympathies again?”
“Tiredness, I’m afraid,” Beth said in as conciliatory a tone as shecould muster. “And I think I need to apologize. You do take yourresponsibilities seriously, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She thought he was pleased by her words. “It’s a strangebusiness, though. I am in training for a job I hope will be a very longtime coming, and in the meantime I often have too much time on myhands.”
“Would the duke not let you share in the running of the duchy?”
He looked at her skeptically. “The two of us in harness?”
Beth had completely forgotten the problem of his birth. “I think oneneeds to train for this kind of thing,” she said. “It will be years, ifever, before I feel I belong in the role of duchess.”
“You will get used to it in time. Now, however, I think you should goand rest. The event is all but over. Tomorrow we leave for London andthere, I gather, you are supposed to cram a Season into a fortnight. Youwill need every scrap of stamina.”
And that was the way it was. The next day they all set off for Townwith three coaches. Beth traveled with the duchess in her chariot, the onewhich had brought her from Cheltenham, while servants were conveyed in theother two. The duke drove himself in a curricle while the marquess rodeViking, the horse with which the boy had been careless.
Beth was guiltily aware that she had forgotten about Robin Babson. Thelarge black stallion showed no sign of injury and was restive anddifficult to handle, even for the marquess. It was unfair to even think ofa child trying to control such an animal.
When they stopped for refreshments, Beth looked over the many servantsbut saw no sign of the boy.Hadthe marquess beaten him half to death? Dismissed him? She hadto know.
As they took a turn around a small orchard next to the inn she raisedthe subject. “I met a young boy in the Belcraven stables. He said heworked with your horses, but I do not see him here.”
“You must mean Robin. He’s a troublesome scamp.” It was an indulgentcomment but didn’t explain the boy’s absence.
“Where is he?”
“He and Dooley are bringing my bays to Town by easy stages. Why?” Thelast word held a note of suspicion.
“I took a liking to the boy,” Beth explained. “I gather he’d been inhot water for something to do with Viking. Is the horse all right?”
“Yes, but Jarvis thought he might have thrown a splint and dusted thelad’s jacket for him.” He looked down at her with a frown. “I hope hedidn’t come running to you to complain.”
“Oh no,” she assured him. “The subject came up quite by accident.”After a moment she added, “He did seem worried you’d thrash him again whenyou found out.”
“I might well have done,” he replied casually, “if the damage had beenserious. He’s inclined to be careless and that horse cost me eight hundredguineas.”
“For a horse!” Beth exclaimed.
“Yes,” he replied with asperity, “for a horse. And if you give me prosylecture on the extravagance of the aristocracy I’ll doubtless thrash you,Elizabeth.”
Beth wasn’t at all sure he was joking.
Chapter Twelve
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Back in the safety of the carriage Beth could at least be reassuredthat he wasn’t a cruel master to his servants no matter how he was goingto behave to his wife. She really thought he ought to know that Robin wasafraid of horses, but she had given her word to the boy. She decided shewould try to sort out this minor problem. It would take her mind off herown predicament.
When they reached London, however, it soon drove thoughts of Robin outof her head. It was a whole new world.
She had only twice been to London, and though she and Aunt Emma hadvisited the Royal Academy exhibition at Somerset House and strolled by theQueen’s Palace, she had never ventured within the more select areas ofMayfair. Her previous experiences had given her the impression that Londonwas universally noisy and dirty, but she discovered there were islands ofpeace and beauty for those who could afford them.
Marlborough Square was surrounded by about twenty fine mansions, somefronted by courtyards set apart by wrought-iron barriers, and others withmagnificent steps leading up to great, gleaming doorways. The center ofthe square was a fine garden around a fountain. Trees were in fresh leafand flowers bloomed.
The carriage drew up before a large double-fronted house. The armsblazoned proudly above the door confirmed that this was Belcraven House.The doors swung open and an army of servants trooped out to take care ofthe family. Of whom Beth was now supposedly one.
She felt as if she had been politely escorted from one prison toanother.
Once in the house in Marlborough Square Beth never had a moment toherself, and she certainly never set eyes on Robin Babson. She was takenon an exhausting round of shopping, had endless fittings for clothes, andwas dragged to one social affair after another every evening. The Seasonwas scarcely begun and yet there did not seem to be a shortage ofgatherings at which the Belcraven heir and his bride could bedisplayed.
