Page 73 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
He’d brought a gift for Robin as well and it had touched her heart more than the gloves: a miniature walking stick that was a duplicate of his, perfectly sized for Robin’s height. The lad strutted about with it and used it to point at things. Like the giraffe.
“It has to take forever for the food to get into its belly,” he said now.
“I suspect so,” Thorne said.
“I would like to have one.” He gave Thorne a hopeful look as though he expected him to purchase it.
“Where would it sleep, lad?”
Robin scrunched up his face as though it were a serious question and if he determined the answer he would find himself the owner of a gigantic giraffe.
“These aren’t for sale, Robin,” Gillie told him. “They’re simply to gaze upon, admire, and appreciate.”
With a nod, he carried on, making his way to the next enclosure. Each creature they viewed fascinated him, while she was fascinated with the man walking beside her. He exhibited extreme patience dealing with the boy, which resulted in Robin listening intently to instructions and following them: no darting off, no picking of pockets, no trying to frighten the animals. They were to be respected.
“Before your father took ill, did he bring you here?” she asked.
“No. On occasion we would fish in the pond on the estate. He took me hunting once, but pleasant memories of him are few.”
“You mentioned that you were fifteen when he passed, which made you a rather young duke.”
“Rather. I went a bit wild for a while, angry with him, furious in fact. It didn’t help that my mother never had a kind word to say about him.” He chuckled darkly. “Theirs was not a love match, but she brought land with her. Every wife of every duke brought land with her. I think the ultimate goal of the dukedom is to own as much of England as possible.”
“So now you will seek out another woman with land.”
“I suppose I shall. It is the only way to make my father proud. Strange to seek that approval even after he’s gone.”
“I think that’s natural. I don’t even know who my parents are, but I like to imagine that somehow they know I’ve made a successful go of things.”
“I hope they do know, that perhaps they watched from afar. The princess and her guard.”
She felt the heat suffuse her face. “I should not have told you about the musings of a silly young girl.”
“Not silly, Gillie. I don’t think it’s uncommon for us to imagine ourselves with different lives when we’re young. I sometimes wished my parents were other than they were.”
For his sake, she wished they had been. She’d always assumed those of the aristocracy lived without challenges, but it seemed no one was spared some sort of trial. She suspected if she traded places with some noblewoman that she’d find herself wishing she was back in Whitechapel right quick.
“Caw! Blimey! Look! It’s a zebra,” Robin called out.
They picked up their pace, quickly approaching the enclosure where the lad was hopping from foot to foot, until they could see the brown-and-white striped horse. Although only her head and shoulders were striped. The remainder of her was just brown.
“Actually that’s not a zebra,” Thorne said quietly. “A zebra has stripes all over it. This is a quagga.”
Robin laughed. “That’s a funny name.”
“It’s named after the sound it makes, and this is a very rare creature. Only a few remain in the world. Some speculate that this is the last one the zoological gardens will ever have.”
“Why?” Robin asked. She doubted he understood the termspeculatebut he was quite versed in the termlast.
“Because so few remain,” Thorne said solemnly, “and they’re having no luck breeding them. You may be one of the last people to ever see one.”
Robin blinked, blinked, blinked. “That’s not right.” He pressed his mouth into a determined firm line. “When I grow up, I’m goin’ to find more of ’em.”
“I hope you do, lad.”
Robin eased up to the metal bars and stuck his hand through a pair. The quagga approached, nuzzled his hand. Robin petted her.
“He won’t find any, will he?” Gillie asked somberly.
