The Unknown Heir by Elizabeth Bramwell

Author:Elizabeth Bramwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-04-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

It was an established fact amongst the Ton that anyone who considered themselves to be of consequence would be present at the annual drive and picnic hosted by the Marquis and Marchioness of Shropshire if they were lucky enough to be invited. Those who were unfortunate enough not to receive one of the gilt edged cards from Lady Shropshire, such as Lady Harden, were often heard at balls and parties loudly complaining of trifling ailments or urgent meetings on the fateful day, but fooled no one with their attempts to deceive. The Shropshires, might not have the panache or fashion of some of the younger peers in London, but their status as leaders of Polite Society had not dulled with age.

When Lord Shropshire called, the Ton answered.

Jacques surveyed the mild chaos with an interested eye. He'd participated in enough picnics and sleigh rides in his time to know how difficult it was to get large numbers of well-bred people mounted or into their vehicles in a timely manner, but this was ridiculous. There were at least nine carriages crowding around Hanover Square, some drawn by as many as six horses. People arrived in one barouche only to be helped out so they could climb into another, while riders with horses of every shade and quality pranced about as their mounts tried to find a quieter spot to stand. Footmen tricked out in the Shropshire colours wove in and out of the chaos to hand glasses of wine and punch to the noble guests, while every third person seemed to be shouting at the poor servants for help with some trivial matter or another.

His own horse, a truly beautiful grey with just enough spirit to be pleasing, was unimpressed with the scene unfolding before them. Trajan, who stood at least two hands higher than most of the other mounts, snorted his boredom repeatedly, and jerked his head more than once to let Jacques know he was ready to set off, even if the fools before them were not.

"I feel the same as you, mon ami," Jacques told the animal as he leaned forward to scratch Trajan's neck. "I do not know the man with three horses reined in tandem, but I do not have confidence that he can control them, if his current attitude is anything to go by."

He heard someone hail him, and turned to see Lord Shropshire beckoning. He clicked his tongue and guided Trajan over to the Shropshire's barouche, where the Marquis was patiently waiting for the Marchioness to come and join him.

"She still likes to make an entrance," said the Marquis in answer to his unspoken question. "Reminds the younger upstarts that she is still in charge."

"My grandmother is much the same," admitted Jacques. "My mother says that when she was a girl she was never allowed to make the unforgivable mistake of being early for anything, including her own wedding."

Lord Shropshire let out a crack of laughter. "I look forward to meeting her one day."

He smiled, not really sure how to reply.

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