But there was something in her regard which restrained him from ordering her, though he received various proposals which tempted him. What he wished for, however, was an English duke if a royal one was not to be had, and there was no duke in the market, they were all married or minors. So for the present he left her in peace concerning her settlement in life.
Her heart was heavy as she rode over the tan, her thoroughbred mare dancing airily beneath her. She was a fine rider and quite fearless; but she hated park-riding amongst a mob of other people with a staring crowd at the rails. “A circus would be better,” she thought. She passed Hurstmanceaux, who was riding a young Irish horse; he lifted his hat slightly with a very cold expression on his face.
Jack was with him, promoted to a Welsh pony of fourteen hands, Tom Tit having passed to the use of his brother Gerald. Jack and Boo had been sent for by their mother, who had again the loan of the Wisbeach house, her sister being this year in Nebraska for shooting.
Jack was feeling quite a man, his pretty long curls had been cut off, he had a tutor chosen by Lord Augustus, he had a hunting-watch in his pocket, and he was wondering when he should be allowed to smoke. Manhood was not all roses. He never heard anything of Harry, and he did not see much of Boo.
Jack looked after Katherine Massarene and her beautiful mare.
“That’s the daughter of the old fat man who gives mammy such a lot of money,” he said, as he rode onward.
“What do you mean?” said Hurstmanceaux, startled and stern.
Jack was frightened.
“What do you mean?” repeated his uncle.
“Old man is made of money,” he said evasively; his uncle, very high above him, very erect and severe, looking down with sternly searching eyes, was an object of fear to Jack.