depends on me for company.”
“Pity. Tomorrow afternoon, then?”
“All right,” Gillie said with some pleasure, for she always appreciated an opportunity to try new cattle. “I’d best ask Aunt Bea first. She’s nice but quite strange. She makes me go to the Assembly Rooms and to concerts and even the lending library.” A snicker escaped her at these bizarre pastimes.
The duke shook his head in sympathy. “They get strange notions when they grow old. Can you ask her now? I want to leave.”
“All right.”
Mrs. Searle was not slow to give her permission to this scheme. It also occurred to her that the duke might replace her on some of those tedious morning rides. She liked riding but was not such a fanatic that she liked going out no matter how chilly the weather or how menacing the sky. Any gentleman staying with the redoubtable Lady Sappington must be unexceptionable. That Tannie was also an extremely eligible duke was not overlooked, either.
The afternoon drives were soon established as custom. The duke began replacing Beatrice in some morning rides as well. To repay his hospitality, she occasionally invited him to take dinner with them. His demeanor was closely studied, and though the chaperon detected no tender looks or whispered asides between the two, she observed that they got on uncommonly well. Almost like brother and sister. She learned from Lady Sappington that the duke would be going to London for the Season. It seemed an excellent idea for Gillie to go as well. With balls and other social doings that excluded horses, something romantic might develop between these two horse lovers.
Bea kept chipping away at Gillie’s rough edges to prepare her for the Season. She had some more fashionable gowns made up and taught her to hold a fan like a weapon of flirtation instead of a riding crop. One item that must be attended to was teaching her the waltz, and to this end, Bea joined her charge in a series of waltzing parties arranged by mothers of young ladies preparing to make their bows at Saint James’s. To her considerable astonishment, the duke agreed to take part in the lessons.
“Won’t do me any harm, I expect. A bit of an awkward fellow, I know.”
“Not in the saddle or in the riding box, either,” Gillie said supportively. “Tannie reminds me of the swans at home, Aunt Bea. So graceful in their own element, and so awkward on land.” The youngsters had achieved a first-name basis during their outings.
“Pity they don’t have a mounted waltz.” Tannie smiled lazily. “By jingo, Gillie, I think we’re onto something.”
“The horses put their forelegs around each other, you mean?” she asked, with a disparaging look.
“Course not! The riders do.”
“They could only hold hands. A country dance would be better.”
Bea listened with falling hopes. This pair had no more notion of romance than a cat had of flying. But as the days passed, and she sat on the sidelines at the waltzing lessons, she noticed that the duke wore a piqued expression when Gillie danced with anyone but him. She could not blame Gillie for trying to escape him. His waltzing was execrable. He seemed to have four feet, one of which was invariably on his partner’s toes.
Bea went to the refreshment table for a glass of wine during a lull in the lessons and overheard a conversation between the duke and Gillie.
“You haven’t stood up with me once!” the duke exclaimed angrily. He never bothered to lower his voice, no matter what he was saying or who was listening.
“I can’t afford to. You’ve already destroyed two pairs of my dancing slippers.”
“I don’t see why we must come to these stupid parties. It is a fine afternoon. We could be out driving.”
Gillie’s reply was less loud, but Bea overheard her name and suspected that she was being blamed. “All right, then, I’ll waltz with you next, but you must try to keep off my slippers, Tannie.”
“I suppose Mr. Egerton never accidentally
“Pity. Tomorrow afternoon, then?”
“All right,” Gillie said with some pleasure, for she always appreciated an opportunity to try new cattle. “I’d best ask Aunt Bea first. She’s nice but quite strange. She makes me go to the Assembly Rooms and to concerts and even the lending library.” A snicker escaped her at these bizarre pastimes.
The duke shook his head in sympathy. “They get strange notions when they grow old. Can you ask her now? I want to leave.”
“All right.”
Mrs. Searle was not slow to give her permission to this scheme. It also occurred to her that the duke might replace her on some of those tedious morning rides. She liked riding but was not such a fanatic that she liked going out no matter how chilly the weather or how menacing the sky. Any gentleman staying with the redoubtable Lady Sappington must be unexceptionable. That Tannie was also an extremely eligible duke was not overlooked, either.
The afternoon drives were soon established as custom. The duke began replacing Beatrice in some morning rides as well. To repay his hospitality, she occasionally invited him to take dinner with them. His demeanor was closely studied, and though the chaperon detected no tender looks or whispered asides between the two, she observed that they got on uncommonly well. Almost like brother and sister. She learned from Lady Sappington that the duke would be going to London for the Season. It seemed an excellent idea for Gillie to go as well. With balls and other social doings that excluded horses, something romantic might develop between these two horse lovers.
Bea kept chipping away at Gillie’s rough edges to prepare her for the Season. She had some more fashionable gowns made up and taught her to hold a fan like a weapon of flirtation instead of a riding crop. One item that must be attended to was teaching her the waltz, and to this end, Bea joined her charge in a series of waltzing parties arranged by mothers of young ladies preparing to make their bows at Saint James’s. To her considerable astonishment, the duke agreed to take part in the lessons.
“Won’t do me any harm, I expect. A bit of an awkward fellow, I know.”
“Not in the saddle or in the riding box, either,” Gillie said supportively. “Tannie reminds me of the swans at home, Aunt Bea. So graceful in their own element, and so awkward on land.” The youngsters had achieved a first-name basis during their outings.
“Pity they don’t have a mounted waltz.” Tannie smiled lazily. “By jingo, Gillie, I think we’re onto something.”
“The horses put their forelegs around each other, you mean?” she asked, with a disparaging look.
“Course not! The riders do.”
“They could only hold hands. A country dance would be better.”
Bea listened with falling hopes. This pair had no more notion of romance than a cat had of flying. But as the days passed, and she sat on the sidelines at the waltzing lessons, she noticed that the duke wore a piqued expression when Gillie danced with anyone but him. She could not blame Gillie for trying to escape him. His waltzing was execrable. He seemed to have four feet, one of which was invariably on his partner’s toes.
Bea went to the refreshment table for a glass of wine during a lull in the lessons and overheard a conversation between the duke and Gillie.
“You haven’t stood up with me once!” the duke exclaimed angrily. He never bothered to lower his voice, no matter what he was saying or who was listening.
“I can’t afford to. You’ve already destroyed two pairs of my dancing slippers.”
“I don’t see why we must come to these stupid parties. It is a fine afternoon. We could be out driving.”
Gillie’s reply was less loud, but Bea overheard her name and suspected that she was being blamed. “All right, then, I’ll waltz with you next, but you must try to keep off my slippers, Tannie.”
“I suppose Mr. Egerton never accidentally
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