Page 45 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Chapter 8

“Skating?” Andrew repeated. He’d been eating a late breakfast when his cousin found him.

“Yes, it is an activity one does in winter—especially around Christmas. A person straps on a—”

“Very droll, Sylvester.”

“Needham has a pavilion complete with braziers, a feast, and plenty of warm blankets for those who want to come and watch—like Hyacinth and Lady Shaftsbury.”

“The duchess does not skate?”

“Oh, she does, but I forbade it.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows. “That must have been an interesting conversation.”

“I must admit I was reduced to playing the lord and master and issuing a ducal command.”

Andrew laughed. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

“Come with me. Even if you don’t skate, you can keep the ladies company.”

“I’m sure they would both adore that,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “But yes,” he added when Sylvester gave him a pained look. “I will come.”

“Excellent! Go fetch your things. We are leaving soon.”

A large group had assembled in the great hall by the time Andrew had returned with his coat and hat. He joined Chatham and his duchess, who were standing off to one side. “Where the devil did all these people come from?” he asked as he pulled on his gloves.

“Some are new arrivals, but many are neighbors,” Chatham said.

The majority of the people milling about were between the ages of twelve and twenty.

Andrew suddenly felt ancient. “Have other, er, adults been invited to this house party?”

The duke laughed at his plaintive tone.

The duchess turned to him and did something she rarely did, which was to address him directly. “There will be even more young people meeting us at the pond. You have been brought along to chaperone.”

Andrew gave a startled snort. “I must admit that is a first for me.”

The duke gave his wife an affectionate look and said, “My wife is teasing you, Drew.”

“Ah.” Andrew saw no hint of anything playful in either her unnerving eyes or her expressionless face.

His attention was snagged by a solitary figure standing at the far edge of the group. Yet again, Miss Martin was conspicuous for being alone.

Several carriages rolled up and Chatham turned to him. “Hyacinth and I will be riding over in one of the carriages.”

“Is it far?”

Her Grace rolled her eyes. “No, but Chatham will not allow me to walk. The carriages are just for the invalids.”

Sylvester grinned at his wife’s sour expression. “We will see you there.”

“Abandoning me already,” Andrew muttered as the two left.

The large, boisterous group set off, Lord Needham leading the way.

Evidently the skating pond was only a ten-minute walk from Wych House. Although the sun was out, the wind was biting, and the big group moved swiftly.