Lady Pamela Read Online Free Page B

sure the horses appreciated a clean paddock. The paddock at Luton, for example, there was a fine home for horseflesh. The marquess had taken great care of his Bedfordshire stables. Benjamin remembered them in every detail, remembered Lady Pamela walking through the stables to Duchess, her mare. His mind’s eye still saw her elegant, forest-green habit, the smooth lines of wool limning her every curve.
    Could Lady Pamela find Wiltshire as much to her liking as Luton Court? he wondered. The landscape was less wooded and lush than Bedfordshire, but perhaps she could learn to admire, as he had, its gentle charm.
    Pah. Shaking his head to dislodge these thoughts, Benjamin urged Xairephon to a swifter pace. His estate was the largest in Wiltshire, but the gelding flew, and they were soon traversing the northeast pasture. The duke swung down from his mount, untied a large roll of canvas sheeting, and spread it out on the ground. He pulled on a stout pair of leather gloves and attacked the burdock with passion, ripping great clumps from the earth and tossing them onto the sheeting. Benjamin hoped that he had found this patch in time, before any of the seedheads had ripened. No sense in doing the whole job over again next year.
    Thud . Thud . Burdock weed flew through the air, and the canvas sheeting soon held a respectable pile. Benjamin pulled fast and hard, trying to think of nothing but the feel of the stems in his hands, the odd, bitter smell of the crushed leaves, and the soft sounds of Xairephon browsing nearby.
    He had brooded long enough about how matters stood at Luton Court, thought the duke. He had tasks at hand this morning on his own lands. Best to concentrate on them.
    Thud . Another clump flew wide, missing the canvas by yards, and Benjamin stopped, breathing hard.
    “They are Burs, I can tell you, they'll stick where they are thrown.”
    The line of Shakespeare rose unbidden, unearthed from some schoolboy memory, and he had a vision, with it, of a person .
    A person, thrown away.
    What nonsense. The duke renewed his attack on the burdock.
    An hour later it was near done, and Benjamin stood back panting, wiping sweat from his eyes with now filthy gloves. He had any number of men to pull burdock for him, of course. He had any number of men to do anything that needed doing at Corsham. But without the burdock to pull...
    He could have removed to London months ago.
    He could have seen her, again, months ago.
    One last clump was especially stubborn; Benjamin gave it a vicious yank, and the burdock gave way suddenly, depositing him rump over teakettle on the sward.
    “Oof.” Chagrined, he stood up and rubbed his backside, grateful that no-one besides Xairephon was nearby. ’Twas clearly time to return to the house, especially as his stomach was angrily complaining that he had once again neglected nuncheon. Hard labor, Benjamin had discovered, needed to be fed. He left the pile of burdock to be collected and burnt, and headed back on the gelding to Corsham Manor.
    * * * *
    “Hey!”
    He and Xairephon were nearly in sight of the house when Lord Torrance saw Josiah Cleghorn approaching, slowly, also on horseback.
    So to speak. Even several years in Virginia, a region as horse-mad as England could ever claim, had not been enough to teach a Massachusetts-born sailor to ride. The duke had outfitted him with a child’s saddle, and given him Daisy, the slowest and gentlest mare in Wiltshire. Still–
    “Hey! Duke-o!”
    Benjamin grinned, glad that no-one else from the estate was present to hear his valet’s latest impertinence. Josiah seemed to delight in devising new appellations for his master, and these were an on-going source of scandal to the rest of the Corsham Manor staff.
    Especially to Deavers, Lord Torrance’s ever-so-proper butler. Benjamin had been concerned for the man’s health on the occasion of Josiah’s addressing his employer as “Lord Ben.” He could only imagine what the butler’s reaction might be