Chapter Nine
Birds flocked inthe majestic oaks and elms as Jenny and the children strolled through the park. William swung from a low branch while Barbara gathered pink daisies to make a daisy chain. It was cool, but a lovely day. The trees were in glorious autumn leaf, the bronze, gold, and burgundy a bright contrast against the gray beech trunks and the silver bark of the birch. In the distance, a stag stood like a statue watching them.
Inevitably, their walk ended at the stables where they met Marcus, the new groom recently come from London.
“You’ll be able to ride again tomorrow, Lord William,” Jenny said, trying not to be disappointed that her brief sojourn on horseback had ended.
William patted a chestnut’s neck when it thrust its head over the top of the stall door. “I wish Father would give me my own mount.”
“Isn’t Lavender your horse? You ride her every day.”
William turned to frown at her.
“You have to be patient, Lord William. More things will come to you as you grow older and gain more experience. It wouldn’t do to get everything you want all at once, now would it?”
William cast her a disbelieving glance.
She smiled. “Otherwise, what would you have to look forward to?”
She left William talking to the stable boy who perched on a stone wall polishing saddles and went in search of Barbara who had disappeared through the stable door. Inside, the air was heavy with the blended smells of hot horseflesh, saddle oil, leather, and feed. The little girl sat cross-legged on the hay-strewn floor with two young cats in her lap. She looked up, her face vivid with delight.
“You’ll spoil your dress, Lady Barbara,” Jenny said halfheartedly. She couldn’t help being charmed by the sight as Barbara stroked the ginger cat while the gray and white cat tried to climb her bodice.
“Aren’t the kittensbootiful?”
Jenny crouched down and stroked the gray one’s silky head. “Yes, indeed they are.”
William followed them inside. “I say, what nice cats. Which one do you like best, Barbara?”
“The orange one,” Barbara said, hugging the purring animal. “I want it.”
“It would be unkind to take it away from its family,” Jenny began, doubtful that the children would be allowed to keep a stable cat in the schoolroom.
Barbara’s big blue eyes flooded with tears. “Just for one night.Please.”
“You must seek your father’s permission,” Jenny said uneasily. She should handle this herself, but that meant she must say no. The duke would be irritated at being disturbed over such a trivial matter, and she’d already annoyed him more than once.
There was nothing for it. She straightened and held out her hand to Barbara. “Shall we go and ask your father?” Jenny didn’t want to disappoint Barbara, when the children should have a pet. They had always had cats and dogs at home. She might annoy His Grace, but she doubted he could refuse his small daughter’s wish.
“Would you like me to carry the cat?” William asked.
Barbara shook her head refusing to relinquish the soft purring bundle in her arms. In a slow and stately procession they left the stable yard and crossed the gravel drive. Entering the formal gardens, they approached the southern wing where the library was situated, and the duke might be found. If he wasn’t there, Jenny would have to deal with the matter herself. Should he be entertaining his guests, she had no intention of entering the house by the front door. They would have to climb the staircase to the elegant salon with walls of gold silk, silk damask sofas and rich Eastern carpets, which was far too beautiful a room to receive two grubby children and an animal. A grin tugged her lips when she imagined the look on the baroness’ face in response to that. If the lady had anything to do with it, Jenny would be dismissed on the spot.
*
When Clovis enteredthe library, Andrew looked up from his desk where his secretary, Mr. Anthony Bishop, hovered with the heated wax, while he signed a pile of letters.
Andrew frowned as he pressed his seal into the red wax. “Still confident it wasn’t poachers, Clovis?”
“As much as I can be, Your Grace. None have been seen around these parts for a while. The magistrate who presides over the Oxford Assizes could have deterred them. He’s had a few hanged in the past. The last were transported to a penal colony. Perhaps for this reason, they’ve begun to poach farther afield.”
“Still, you’ll keep an eye out. Check the areas where they used to set their traps.”
“I will, Your Grace.”
Andrew turned back to his secretary after Clovis left them. “How many more, Bishop?”
“Half a dozen, Your Grace, and there’s that notice from the bailiff.”
