Follow Your Heart Read Free Page A

prepare.
    As she was getting on in years, Mrs Beston did not like to be hurried.
    â€˜I must find out if he is staying for luncheon as quickly as possible,’ Della told herself.
    She hurried Samson forward and took him directly into the stables.
    â€œHow did you get on, Miss Della?” Grayer asked as he took hold of Samson’s bridle.
    â€œHe went like the wind and behaved like a Saint! We will have no trouble with him.”
    â€œNot while you’re a–ridin’ ’im, Miss. The stable boys were a–findin’ ’im a bit of an ’andful.”
    Della smiled.
    â€œHe will settle down.”
    She then hurried over the cobble–stones and into the house by the kitchen door to find Mrs Beston.
    The kitchen boasted old–fashioned beams across the ceiling from which were hanging ducks and chickens, sides of bacon and onions.
    â€œGood Morning, Mrs Beston,” Della called as she entered. “I expect you know that His Grace is here and as it is a quarter–to–one, I am certain he will stay for luncheon.”
    â€œThat’s just what I guessed too, Miss I says to Mr Storton as I’ve said a hundred times afore, why can’t I be given notice of when His Grace be a–coming so I has them dishes he likes ready for him?”
    Della had heard this grumble many times and she merely smiled.
    â€œHowever difficult it may be, Mrs Beston, I am sure you will not fail His Grace.”
    The cook did not answer but merely snorted and turned round to stir a sauce, which was simmering on top of the fire.
    Della left the kitchen and ran along the corridor leading into the hall. She saw Storton the butler standing there with a footman. The boy had only been taken on recently and was being taught his job.
    â€œI suppose His Grace is staying for luncheon,” Della enquired as she went towards the stairs.
    â€œWe haven’t been told nothing yet, Miss Della,” replied Storton.
    Della hurried to her room knowing that her uncle would not like her to sit down to luncheon in her riding habit even though she might be riding again in the afternoon.
    She changed into a pretty cotton dress and quickly tidied her hair, whilst her maid buttoned up the back of her gown.
    â€œHurry, Emily, or I will be late.”
    â€œWe’ve two minutes, miss, and his Lordship’ll take that to walk from the study.”
    Della giggled.
    â€œWhatever happens Uncle Edward will enter the dining room on the stroke of one o’clock. He has always said he owes his success to being punctual whilst other people are always late.”
    The maid did not answer and Della thought she did not really understand. It was after all an old family joke. Because Lord Lainden was invariably precisely on time he had often managed to gain an advantage over his political opponents.
    As Della ran down the stairs, the grandfather clock in the hall struck the hour.
    As it did so, her uncle was walking along the passage, which led to his study, accompanied by the Duke.
    Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Della ran towards them.
    â€œI am back, Uncle Edward,” she puffed, “and exactly on time.”
    She curtsied to the Duke, who bent and kissed her cheek.
    â€œHow are you, my dear, or is that a silly question?” he asked. “You look very pretty and there is a flush in your cheeks which tells me you have been riding again.”
    â€œYes, indeed I have - one of your horses which I highly recommend as being outstanding even amongst the rest of your stable.”
    â€œThat is most interesting, my dear, and I must certainly try the newcomer for myself. What is his name?”
    â€œMost appropriately – Samson, and as I always imagine the great man to have been not only strong but intelligent and with an irresistible charm, that accolade also applies to your stallion!”
    The Duke chortled.
    â€œWhat a very excellent recommendation and one I hope you will soon be