“And ladies too,” she said. “Your papa’s grandmama would have worn a large wig and powdered it until it was white.”
They moved along the gallery to look at a Reynolds portrait of a more recent ancestor so that she could prove her point.
It was an informal lesson without plan or any particular object, but the child was definitely interested, Fleur could see. She must bring her down whenever she knew that they would not be disturbed. She would see to it if she could that Lady Pamela would not grow up with such a poor sense of her family past as she herself had.
But the child quickly tired of examining old pictures.
“What is in those cupboards?” she asked, pointing.
“I believe your papa said that there are some old toys and games there that he and your uncle Thomas used to play with on rainy days,” she said.
“Like today,” Lady Pamela said, and stooped down to open one of the cupboard doors. She pulled out a spinning top andtwo skipping ropes. She pushed the top back inside. She had one in the nursery. She picked up one of the ropes and uncoiled it from the heavy wooden handles. “What do you do with these?”
Fleur felt a little uneasy. She had been permitted to bring Lady Pamela down to see the paintings, but nothing had been expressly said about allowing her to play there. But it was time to end lessons for the day, and the weather would prevent them from going outside again.
“You skip with them,” she said. “You hold one of the handles in each hand and turn the rope over your head. You have to jump over it when it reaches the ground.”
“Show me,” Lady Pamela demanded, holding out one of the ropes.
“Please,” Fleur said automatically.
“Please, silly,” the child said.
It took Lady Pamela a while to catch the idea of turning the handles steadily instead of stopping each time she jumped successfully over the rope. But finally she could jump three times in succession before getting the rope tangled about her feet.
“How can you do it so many times?” she asked Fleur petulantly.
Fleur laughed. “Practice,” she said. “Just as with the pianoforte.” Though that was ridiculous, she thought, laughing again. She had not skipped rope for perhaps fifteen years.
“Charming,” a languid voice said from the doorway, so far distant that neither Fleur nor Lady Pamela had heard the doors open. “Two happy children, would you say, Kent? Ah, but no, one of them transforms herself into Miss Hamilton, now that I have my glass to my eye.”
Fleur could feel her face flaming. Lord Thomas Kent and Sir Philip Shaw were strolling toward them along the gallery, Sir Philip’s quizzing glass to his eye. She rolled up her own skipping rope with hasty fingers.
“I am skipping,” Lady Pamela announced.
“So I see.” Lord Thomas regarded them both with laughing eyes and winked at Fleur. “How is my favorite niece today? Can you skip the length of the gallery?”
“I don’t think so,” Lady Pamela said.
He took a coin from his pocket and stooped down in front of her. “This is yours if you can,” he said.
Lady Pamela drew a deep breath and went hurtling off along the gallery, tripping over the rope every few steps. Both gentlemen laughed as they watched her go.
“I forgot to tell her that she must do it without once coming to grief,” Lord Thomas said, and strolled, laughing, after her.
“What a charming picture you made,” Sir Philip said to Fleur. “I am sorry in my heart that I spoke as soon as I did. I have not seen such a trim pair of ankles in a long while.”
Fleur stooped down without replying and put her skipping rope back into the cupboard. She had found the gentleman decidedly flirtatious when she had danced with him on the evening of the ball. By the time she stood up, Sir Philip was standing before her, one hand against the wall, regarding her with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Where do you hide away when you are not with the child, my sweet?” he asked. “Upstairs?”
She smiled briefly and willed Lady Pamela to turn and skip back down the gallery again.
“You must be lonely up there all alone,” he said, and leaned forward to kiss the side of her neck.
“Don’t,” she said firmly.
But the hoped-for interruption came in an unhoped-for way. Two ladies had entered the open doors of the gallery, one of them the duchess.
