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Chapter Ten
“At the riding-school today I observed rather ungenteel behaviour.”
Private Education: A Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies.
Elizabeth Appleton. 1815.
Afirm knock rattled his study door and Rhys yelled for Morgan to enter with his morning coffee.
The door creaked. “Uuunnnccle?”
All too willingly, Rhys dropped the ducal estate ledgers to the desk in order to survey his niece impatiently tapping her foot in the doorway.
“Yes, Mari. What can I do for you?”
“Would you come riding with me?”
He glanced at the mantel clock to note the hour was almost ten. Still early, but the guests would be drifting down to breakfast soon, a heap of paperwork had arrived on his desk and the Autumn Ball was tonight. “No time, I’m afraid. I must break my fast with the guests soon enough and do the pretty.”
Mari’s shoulders drooped, head dipping, and he felt lower than a worm. They’d spoken a few days past about her nightwalking, and he hoped to have eliminated her fears but was aware this house party had stolen his company from her.
A heartfelt sigh wafted from her lips and lingered in the air until a further sigh replaced it. “Very well. I know you will have a most pleasant breakfast.” A winsome smile. “For Lady Bronwen has produced a drawing of her ancestral tree and wishes to go through it with you.”
Oh.
A swish of riding habit. “And over black pudding, Miss Pritchard wishes you to detail what jewellery the Duchess of Aberdare would inherit. She’s particularly fond of earbobs.”
Lud.
“And…” He could hear the cogs whirring in Mari’s resourceful noggin. “Do you know Miss Craddock and her mother have brought along their copy of Pride and Prejudice?”
Er…Feeling as though he ought to respond with the utmost caution as females could become quite protective of that novel, he settled upon a non-committal raise of eyebrow.
“Hmm. They are hoping you could dress as they picture Mr Darcy to look, and then read aloud his dialogue while Miss Craddock enacts Elizab–”
“I’ll fetch my crop and gloves,” he said, rising, aware Mari might have taken some creative liberty with that one, but nevertheless…
“Are you quite sure, Uncle? It could be fun. I could read Lydia’s part and–”
“No, no, my love. I wouldn’t think of depriving you of a ride out. I was a selfish louse to even consider it.”
She beamed. “Oh, thank you, Uncle. I’ll ask Jonnet to saddle three horses right away.”
“Three?” he queried, shutting the ledgers.
Mari peered to the ceiling cornice with all the innocence of a cat with a carp tail sticking from its mouth. “Miss Beaujeu is coming as well, of course, Uncle.”
Ah.
Rhys wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that as he’d pledged to keep a distance from his governess over the past few days. He’d deserved Miss Beaujeu’s censure for not telling her all, but he’d also been more than a little stirred by her flashing eyes and fiery spirit.
Dangerous feelings to have for one’s comely governess.
“Give me a moment to change my boots and I’ll meet you in the stables.”
She flashed a smile. “You’re the best uncle I’ve ever had.” And off she dashed.
* * *
