Animating Maria by MC Beaton Page A

the duke.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘My estates are in good order. My tenants have nothing of which to complain. Why do you ask?’
    ‘I was in John Street the other day. You know, one of those narrow streets between the Strand and the river. A shocking place.’
    ‘There are many shocking places in that area. What took you there?’
    ‘I went for a little walk with Miss Sunningdale. What a horrible sight it was. Crumbling stonework, broken windows. That anyone could charge rent from the poor people staying in such a rat hole is beyond me.’
    ‘There is something pointed about the tone of your remarks, Miss Kendall. What has John Street to do with me?’
    ‘You own it.’
    ‘I do? Well, perhaps I do own it. I have a great deal of property.’
    ‘And not a care in the world either,’ said Maria. ‘
You
don’t have to live there. I don’t think a penny has been spent on the place in years.’
    ‘I leave such matters to my agents.’
    ‘Good landlords, your grace, never leave such matters to their agents.’
    ‘Your parents no doubt being prime landlords, for example.’
    ‘Yes, they are!’ said Maria in surprise. ‘Papa owns a street of houses in the poorer area of Bath and he makes sure the roofs are always in good repair and that the very poor are not pressed for rent.’ She felt a warm glow. She had, she realized, been bitterly ashamed of her parents. It was wonderful to discover virtues in them.
    ‘Then perhaps before tomorrow’s church service, you will do me the honour of directing me to this John Street so that I may examine this slum for myself.’
    He had hoped to throw her, but she said calmly, ‘Gladly.’
    He studied her profile in silence for a few moments while he wondered how best to irritate her. ‘You have not asked me about my visit to your parents,’ he said.
    ‘I hope you were tolerably entertained,’ retorted Maria, knowing he was trying to unsettle her and determined not to show it.
    ‘It was a strange meeting,’ he said reflectively. ‘There were a great many servants.’
    ‘We do not have many servants. The house is too small. They must have been hired.’
    ‘So I gather. I hope for your sake and for your parents’ sake that that slut of a parlourmaid was one of the rented ones.’
    ‘Our servants are all respectable. Who is this parlourmaid?’
    ‘A wanton called Sally.’
    ‘Hired.’
    Her calm manner was beginning to nettle him. ‘Ten footmen of various sizes and different liveries had been engaged to line the steps and cheer on my arrival,’ he said. ‘An orchestra in some room upstairs played ‘‘See the Conquering Hero Comes’’.’
    But Maria had fallen under the influence of Amy Tribble. She put her napkin to her face and snorted with laughter.
    She looked up at him with dancing eyes and the duke’s normally severe face broke into a charming smile as he looked down at her. The laughter died from Maria’s eyes and she felt uncomfortable and short of breath.
    ‘Everyone’s behaving strangely,’ commented Beau to Miss Amy Tribble. ‘There’s Berham smiling at Miss Kendall and both seem in high spirits, just when I had begun to think they did not like each other. And now your Mr Haddon keeps looking in this direction and he is becoming angrier by the minute.’
    ‘He might have indigestion,’ said Amy anxiously. ‘The food is very rich.’
    She looked across the room at Mr Haddon, who pointedly turned his head away and then began to talk to Effy with great animation. Effy’s blue eyes sparkled and she said something and rapped Mr Haddon playfully with her fan. ‘I’ll kill her,’ muttered Amy through her teeth.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Beau surprised.
    ‘Nothing,’ muttered Amy. ‘Pass the wine.’
    There was one more waltz that evening. Beau managed to get Maria as a partner and Mr Haddon asked Amy to dance.
    For a few blissful moments, Amy was happy. All her normal clumsiness fled and she floated round the room in Mr Haddon’s arms.