opposite them. ‘Tell me what has happened.’
‘It’s Beth…’
‘So she is here?’
‘Yes, but do not interrupt, or I shall lose the thread of what I am saying.’
‘Go on.’ It was said quietly, but Andrew could tell that the Duke was not used to being thwarted and would have the truth. He wished devoutly that he could excuse himself and half-rose, but her Grace, seeing this, waved him down again. Perhaps she needed moral support, though she seemed perfectly at ease with her husband.
‘James, you sent that boy off on his travels without telling Beth and—’
‘That was the whole point, to separate them, you know that. Their association was becoming unhealthy.’
‘Fustian! They are friends, more like brother and sister, and she wanted to be part of his adventures—’
‘Good God! She did not think she could go too, did she?’
‘No, of course not. She wanted to be part of the planning, to say goodbye to him and see him off. She was afraid he might think she had connived at sending him away so abruptly and she wished to reassure him…’
‘So, what did she do?’
She took a deep breath. ‘She dressed as a boy and took the stage to London and a cab to the docks.’
‘Harriet would never so far forget herself as to allow that—’ He stopped speaking suddenly. ‘Oh, I see, Harriet did not know. So, what was Miss Andover doing?’
‘She didn’t know of it either. Beth travelled alone.’
‘Good God!’ he said again. He turned to Andrew. ‘And how came you to be involved, sir?’
‘I saw her endeavouring to board the ship, your Grace, and undertook to acquaint Mr Kendall of her presence. He told me he thought she had followed him in order to share his adventure and of course he knew that was not to be thought of and asked me to bring her here.’
‘You knew she was not a boy?’
‘Almost immediately.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘She looked very fetching, but I do not think anyone could be deceived.’
At that point two servants arrived with trays, one bearing an urn and all the accoutrements for making tea and the other some plates laden with cakes and pastries, which were set down on a table beside the Duchess. The conversation was halted as she set about offering their guest food and drink. She took a cup of tea for herself, but the Duke declined.
James watched Andrew dealing politely with his wife and wished it could have been anyone but Andrew Melhurst who had found Beth. The man had left England after a scandal of some sort, though he could not remember the details, but if past follies were attached to this present situation, he feared for Beth’s reputation.
‘Were you seen?’ he asked.
Andrew, in the middle of biting into a delicious honey-filled pastry, gave him a sharp look. The Duke was only echoing what he himself had said to Miss Harley, but it was one thing to acknowledge the problem to himself and mention it to her, quite another when someone else pointed it out to him as if it had all been his fault. ‘The docks were very busy, your Grace, I have no idea who saw us. I hope no one of importance…’
‘And when you arrived here?’
‘Oh, James, do not quiz the poor man like that,’ Sophie said. ‘He has done his best to do the right thing and bring Beth to us. He left her in the carriage and I went out with a cloak to fetch her in. No one saw us.’
James, who had been prepared to dislike the man, found himself revising his earlier opinion. A less scrupulous man might have taken advantage of the situation. ‘Then I must thank you, sir, for your discretion. If her reputation was to be sullied by this adventure, I fear she would find it difficult to take her place in society and make her curtsy. As for finding a husband…’ He stopped, realising he had been thinking aloud and such problems were nothing to do with the man who faced him. ‘I am sorry, it is not your fault you have been unwittingly caught up in our problems.’
‘If Miss Harley’s good name is brought into question, then I will do the honourable thing, your Grace.’ Whatever made him say that? Andrew asked himself. The idea of marrying the lady had never crossed his mind until the words came out of his mouth.
James smiled. No doubt he would. The niece of one of England’s foremost Dukes would be quite a catch for the grandson of a mere baron. ‘I do not think that will be necessary,’ he said quite sharply and then relented. ‘I mean…you have managed to bring her here with the minimum of fuss and we can find a way of accounting for her arrival ahead of her mother and sister. All will be well, I am sure.’
‘But we do, indeed, thank you,’ the Duchess put in, smiling. ‘I had expected Beth to come down and thank you herself…’
‘She has thanked me already,’ Andrew said. ‘I would not wish to put her to the blush by having to repeat it. I did only what any gentleman worthy of the name would do.’ He put his cup down and rose to bring the interview to an end. He felt uncomfortable, as if he were being quizzed as a potential suitor, when all he had wanted to do was hand over the hoyden and take his leave.
The Duchess rose too. ‘Mr Melhurst, are you, by chance, on your way to your grandfather’s house? I collect it is near Newmarket.’
‘Yes, your Grace.’
She smiled. ‘And no doubt hoped to be halfway there by now.’
Andrew bowed to acknowledge the truth of this. ‘It is of no consequence,’ he said politely.
‘I hesitate to ask another favour of you,’ she began, making her husband look sharply at her, eyebrows raised in enquiry. ‘But I know my sister-in-law will be beside herself with worry. Would you, could you, call at Beechgrove on your way and set her mind at rest? I know it is an imposition—if it is inconvenient, please say so.’
‘It will be my pleasure, your Grace.’ He endeavoured to sound cheerful about it. It was not so much that it would mean taking a small detour, but that he would still be embroiled in the doings of Miss Elizabeth Harley and at the beck and call of the Duke and Duchess of Belfont. Were they so pessimistic about finding the chit a husband they had to drag one in off the street? He felt as though he were being used and he did not like the feeling at all.
‘Please tell Lady Harley that we will keep Beth here with us,’ the Duchess went on. ‘But it would be advisable if she were to bring forward her own arrival in London so that it may look as though they all arrived together.’
‘I will do that, your Grace,’ he said and took his leave before she could suggest any other errands for him to do.
He passed out of the room and on to the gallery. He paused outside the door, thankful to have escaped, and made for the top of the stairs to the ground floor. A movement, a sound—he was not afterwards sure which it was—made him look up. Above him, at the head of the stairs, stood a vision in green, one hand on the balustrade, one slippered foot poised above the top step, ready to descend. This was no hoyden dressed in male attire, no untidy miss with dark hair tumbling down beneath an over-large tricorne hat, this was a woman of poise
