Oh, we are becoming used to it, Sophie told him.
They watched the procession set off: the Horse Guards, outriders, carriages containing the royal retinue and, last of all, the state carriage drawn by eight cream horses, its occupants smiling and waving to the crowds who seemed singularly disinterested. Behind and a little to one side rode the handsome aide who had so taken Sophies attention, riding a magnificent black stallion. He looked about him as he rode as if expecting trouble.
You may enter the inn now, Captain Summers said, conducting them inside. Regretfully I must leave you and take up my position in the cavalcade. He touched his tall hat in salute and strode away to where his horse was tethered.
What a fuss! Lady Myers said as they found their way to the dining room. My Lord, let us stay here until they are well on their way, for I should be mortified to be too close behind those two pretentious coxcombs. We might be mistaken for one of the party.
His lordship agreed and, in a way, so did Sophie, who had been less than impressed by the two rulers. On the other hand, the gentleman on the black stallion and the young captain of the Horse Guards were much more interesting, especially the taller one; she would not mind following on behind him. If only she was not dressed so shabbily, if only she had a little more aplomb, she might have smiled at him and then, instead of looking straight through her, which he had done, even when addressing her, he might have smiled back She shocked herself to think she could have such improper thoughts and quickly turned her attention to her host, who was reciting the bill of fare in a swift gabble as if he could not wait to be rid of all his guests and have a little peace and quiet. She must remember she was in England now and must behave with the decorum Lady Myers expected of her. And that meant not challenging authority. If she wanted the Duke to give her a roof over her headshe could not call it a home, having no idea if it could ever be thatshe must curb her tongue and be meek and docile. Any rebellious or unladylike thoughts and opinions must be kept for her book.
Chapter Two
Sophie woke up the next morning, wondering where she was. It was much more sumptuous than her room in Naples. She sat up and looked about her. The sun was shining through lightweight curtains and she could make out solid furniture; besides the big bed there was a washstand, a wardrobe, a dressing table, another small table in the window flanked by two chairs and a couple of cupboards in the fireplace recess. A clock on the mantel told her it was half past ten. She had not slept so late in years! She scrambled from the bed, padded across the thick carpet and drew back the curtains to find herself looking out on a busy street. Not Naples, not Paris, but London.
It all came back to her then: the long, exhausting journey by land and sea, the slow progress behind the Regents procession, which they had come up with only an hour after leaving Dover. The Regent was either very vain or very stubborn because he had insisted on stopping to greet his people, even when they were only a half a dozen on a street corner who looked to Sophie as if they had only been waiting to cross the road. Whenever they stopped the tall equerry was in evidence, shepherding people away from the royal carriages, looking about for trouble, trying his best to keep the cavalcade moving. Sophie wondered what his name was and if he had a title and decided he must be a lord at the very least. In her imagination she dubbed him Lord Ubiquitous because he seemed to be everywhere. No doubt if anything bad befell his charges, he would have to answer for it.
He had controlled his horse with consummate skill, was polite if a little frosty to the people around him and smiled when speaking to the Regent and his guest. Not for a moment had he shown any sign of impatience, but somehow Sophie sensed it was there, carefully hidden. It revealed itself in the way he carried himself, in small gestures, in the lifted eyebrows to Captain Summers when his Highness insisted on stopping. On one occasion the Regent had beckoned to a little urchin playing in the dirt and given him some small token, though the child seemed to have no idea what to do with it. Lord Ubiquitous had leaned down from his mount and whispered something, which made the boy laugh and he had run off, clutching his prize.
There had been no possibility of overtaking the royal carriages, so Lord Myers had instructed the coachman, hired at Dover, to stay well back, and Sophie was able to look about her. The countryside was verdant, the sun had a gentle warmth, not the uncomfortable heat of Naples. There were people working in the fields, plodding behind working horses. In the meadows cattle grazed and young lambs trotted behind their mothers, bleating for attention. This was the England she remembered, the England her mother had yearned for all the years of her exile. Was that why it felt so much like coming home?
London, when they reached it, was packed, just as Paris had been. Rich and poor jostled each other, carriages vied for space with carts, and the noise of it all assailed her ears: grinding wheels, ringing hooves, neighing horses and voices, some high-pitched, some raucous. When the crowd saw who sat in the grand carriages smiling and waving fat beringed hands at them, they were openly hostile. Sophie heard one wag shout, Wheres your wife? And this was echoed by others until it became a chorus.
What do they mean? she asked Lord Myers.
Oh, they are referring to the Princess of Wales, he said. She is far more popular than her husband, who tries very hard to pretend she does not exist. The people like to remind him of her now and again.
Their ways diverged after they crossed the river and the Myerss coach went on to Holles Street, where the servants had been expecting them hours before. It was extremely late, the dinner spoiled and they had to make do with a cold collation before tumbling into their beds.
And now it was morning, the first day of her new life and whatever was in store for her, she would have to make the best of it. Until she had made her call on the Duke, she could make no plans, and meeting the Duke was something that filled her with trepidation. She dressed hurriedly and went down to the breakfast parlour where she found Lady Myers immersed in the morning paper, which reported the arrival of the French King and a great deal of other news, some of it political, some of it mere gossip. She laid it aside on Sophies entrance. How did you sleep, dear? she asked.
Like the dead, Sophie said. I was worn out.
That is hardly to be wondered at. Shall we stay at home and rest today? Tomorrow will be time enough for paying calls if you are too fatigued.
Sophie was very tempted. It would be so easy to presume upon her ladyships generosity and do nothing, but her circumstances and sense of fair play would not allow it. Unless you have other plans, I think I should make my call at Belfont House first, she said. It has been playing on my mind. If the Duke is from home, I can ascertain if he is at Dersingham Park.
Do you not think you should purchase a new gown before presenting yourself? her ladyship suggested.
Sophie looked down at the lilac muslin she had fetched out of her trunk. It was so simple as to be childlike, with its mauve ribbons under the bosom and round the puffed sleeves. Its only decoration was a little ruching round the hem, which had been mended more than once. You think I should be in mourning?
Do you? Lady Myers countered.