"Dad, what can you tell me about the finances of the Grosvenor Group?"
"Later, Richie," Gerald said. "I'm glad you're interested in the subject, but it's impossible to explain things like that in just a couple of hours."
"How long would it really take?" Richard pressed.
Gerald thought for a moment, ran the back of his right hand over his chin, then looked at his son and said:
"Richie, here's what we'll do. When you pass your junior school exams, I'll invite you to work for my company as a courier. You'll spend a month handling correspondence within the office, and you'll get a sense of how the company works. And if you can make it through that month, son, then competent specialists will initiate you into the business. Does that suit you?"
"No problem," the boy nodded eagerly. "Mrs. Stevenson said that if I keep studying at this pace, I'll be able to pass my junior school exams in a couple of months. And in just a few weeks, I'll be ready to take my fifth-grade exams."
"Unbelievable!"
The duke was astonished. Of course, he believed his son was gifted—but not to this extent.
"Richie, I'm proud of you!" he said warmly. "For now, go and rest. In two hours, I'll send Lucy to help you get dressed in a tailcoat."
"So early?" Richie asked in surprise. "Dad, you said we only had to be there at four."
"Exactly," the duke agreed. "But we still need time to get ready, dress properly, and make the trip. It's about two hundred and ten miles by road to the Queen's residence at Windsor Castle—a four-hour drive."
Only then did Richard realize his mistake. He had recently learned that he lived not far from Chester, while the Queen resided near London.
"But couldn't we, for example, fly by helicopter?" asked the transmigrator hopefully, clearly unwilling to spend four hours in a car.
"No, Richie," Gerald chuckled. "I'm afraid of heights and can't stand helicopters, airplanes, or any other flying machines. So we'll be going by car."
"Oh…" the boy sighed heavily. "If we had a gravicar, we could get there in an hour on the expressway…"
The duke chuckled again, smiled warmly at his son.
"Are you fond of science fiction, Richie? I used to love that kind of literature too. All right, go on—get some rest, play if you want. We have a long and demanding day ahead of us."
How could he possibly relax when he was about to meet the Queen and high society for the first time? Naturally, Richie couldn't sit still. He worried endlessly, imagining how the event would unfold and how he might avoid making a blunder. As a result, several hours passed in a restless blur.
Then Lucy arrived, shepherded Richie into the shower, and helped him into his tailcoat.
Richard had prepared himself for a long, grueling car ride—but things didn't go as expected.
There were four people in the Bentley. Richard and Gerald sat in the back seat, separated by a wide armrest. In front, the driver—who was also a bodyguard—sat behind the wheel, while beside him was another unremarkable man in a plain suit, apparently another member of the security detail.
As soon as the luxury car pulled onto the highway, the strain of the day caught up with the boy. His body, worn out by excitement and nerves, asserted its rights. Richie's eyelids began to droop. Half-asleep, the boy discovered one truth:
No matter how cool and grown-up a transmigrator you think you are, if you're stuck in a child's body, you can't go against its needs. But sleeping in a car isn't a big deal. What's truly terrifying is that I'm about to go through adolescence all over again.
"Richie, wake up."
Richard stirred as someone gently shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw his father.
"Richie, we're here. Get out," Gerald said.
"Already?" the boy asked in surprise. "Weren't we supposed to drive for four hours?"
"You slept the entire way, son. We've arrived."
The driver opened the door for the young gentleman. Richie stepped out of the car and found himself in a large parking area filled with luxury vehicles—Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, Daimlers, Jaguars, as well as BMW and Mercedes sedans.
Ahead, rising beyond the crowns of neatly trimmed trees, stood a majestic palace. High beige stone walls flowed into round and square towers.
A wide footpath led from the parking lot to an arched gate.
Passing through it, Richie and his father entered the castle courtyard. A broad paved path ran along the rectangular perimeter of the buildings, enclosing a well-kept green lawn at the center.
The palace itself rose three stories high. A four-story square tower dominated the center. To the right corner were two five story round towers, which, after turning, flowed into three story buildings, and then stepped down into a two story structure.
The windows on the lower floors were enormous,stretched upward, and rectangular in shape. Those on the uppermost floors were arched and even taller.
To the left stood a massive five-story round building. To approach it, one had to circle a marble fountain.
The courtyard was already filled with people—mostly adult men and women. The men wore tailcoats, and against their dark backdrop, the Duke of Westminster stood out in his blue suit.
Richie would have preferred a suit himself over the stiff, uncomfortable tailcoat, but he'd been informed that his current status didn't yet allow for such "liberties." Once he became a duke, he would be free to wear a suit even at events where a tailcoat was formally required.
The women wore evening gowns. The sheer variety of colors and designs of their dresses and hats, together with the dazzling abundance of expensive jewelry, was enough to make one's eyes swim.