Dancing on a Rainbow Read online

  DANCING ON A RAINBOW

  “I brought you here tonight,” the Marquis said very quietly, “because I intended to kiss you.”

  Loretta gave a little murmur of dissent as he went on,

  “But now I am not going to touch you, because I want you to think of me as somebody very different from the men who made love to you in the past.”

  Loretta’s eyes widened, but she did not speak.

  Then the Marquis took her hand in his, and she felt his lips gentle and insistent on the softness of her skin.

  Then, as if he could not help himself, he turned her hand over and pressed his lips against the palm.

  It was something Loretta had never thought of a man doing.

  She felt as if the beauty of a cascade ran through her body, and there were rainbows touching her lips.

  The Marquis raised his head and said,

  “Now I will take you home!”

  Author’s Note

  In the last ten years of the nineteenth century, Paris became the civilised world Capital of elegant living, pleasure and artistic genius.

  In 1889 the Eiffel Tower, the highest metal structure in the world, symbolised for Paris a turbulent century of great achievements.

  Paris was growing more prosperous and more bourgeois. It was also becoming increasingly democratic despite many social injustices. The war debts had been paid off to victorious Germany ahead of schedule and France’s colonial Empire was growing fast.

  The areas in the City, which had been ravaged by fire and artillery, had been rebuilt, the Opera House was completed and there was little to show that Paris had suffered a siege and a Civil War.

  For the sophisticated searcher of pleasure, there was nowhere in the world to rival Paris. Already famous for women’s fashions, a brilliant High Society life, its food and its music, it became the number one destination for the rich and famous.

  Added to this was the allure of the Moulin Rouge, which opened its doors in 1889. The great red wooden sails of the windmill above its entrance began to turn and it was to become a Mecca for the libertines with money to spend for the next decade.

  Writers and the artists of the time found a complete freedom in Paris. They could live, write, love and paint, as they liked amongst people with a passion for novelty.

  There was freedom of the press, freedom to express political convictions, freedom to create and freedom to look to the future.

  It was a new age which had a large number of troubles and difficulties, but which also had so much charm, vitality and colour, which, combined with an abundance of pleasure, has since become known as La Belle Époque.

  Chapter one

  1889

  Lady Loretta Court patted her horse’s neck before she dismounted.

  “He went well today, Ben,” she said to the groom who was waiting to take him to the stables.

  “’E always likes you to ride’ im, my Lady,” Ben grinned and she smiled at him as she walked up the steps and into the big hall.

  She had just reached the top of the stairs when a footman came hurrying from a corridor to say,

  “His Grace wishes to speak to you, my Lady, and asks that you go to the study as soon as you return.”

  Loretta gave a little sigh. She had been riding for two hours and she wanted to change from her riding habit and have a bath.

  However, if her father wanted her, there was nothing she could do but obey.

  She went down the stairs she had already climbed and handed the footman her riding gloves and the small whip she never used and almost defiantly took off her riding hat and gave it to him as well.

  Pushing her hair into place, she hurried through the hall along the wide corridor leading to her father’s study.

  She wondered what he could want and thought that if it was anything to do with her riding without a groom, which he disliked, it would undoubtedly be very long-winded and it would be difficult to escape.

  Loretta was very fond of her father, but since her mother’s death she had found him extremely dictatorial and, like many elderly men, he seldom listened to what anybody else had to say.

  In his position as Lord Lieutenant of the County he had a great deal to occupy him, but he was never too busy for his only daughter.

  But he had very strict ideas of propriety, which Loretta found restricting as well as boring.

  She opened the door of the study and went in apprehensively.

  At the same time, it struck her as it always did what a beautiful room it was and she appreciated even more than her father did the pictures of horses that decorated the walls.

  The Duke, who in his youth was one of the most handsome of Queen Victoria’s Lords-in-Waiting, was in fact in an exceedingly good humour as he looked up from the desk where he was writing.

  There was a pile of papers in front of him, because although he had a secretary, the Duke’s motto was, ‘if you want anything done well, you must do it yourself!’

  This resulted in his having a quite unnecessary amount of paperwork to do.

  He smiled, however, when he saw Loretta and thought, as he often had before, that he was fortunate to have such a lovely daughter.

  It was indeed only to be expected, seeing that her mother had been without exception the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  “You wanted me, Papa?”

  “Yes, Loretta, I have something important to tell you. I thought it would have been a mistake to have talked about it last night, since I was tired when I returned from the races and I also wanted you to sleep well.”

  There was a worried expression in Loretta’s eyes as she asked,

  “What is it you want to tell me, Papa, that you could not tell me last night?”

  The Duke rose from his desk and walked across the room to stand in front of a magnificently carved mantelpiece above which hung a very fine painting by Sartorius.

  “When I was at Epsom yesterday,” he began, “I saw my old friend the Duc de Sauerdun .”

  Because her father was speaking slowly and rather pompously, Loretta was sure that whatever he had to say was going to take a long time and she sat down in one of the armchairs.

  She had often heard her father speak of the Duc and she knew that, although they might be of different nationalities, the two old gentlemen had a close bond in common in that they ran racehorses both in France and in England and often against each other.

  “Did you beat the Duc’s horse yesterday?” Loretta asked.

  “As a matter of fact, Minotaur romped home half a length ahead of Sauerdun’s stallion!” the Duke said with satisfaction.

  “I am glad, Papa. You must be very pleased.”

  “After the race was over,” her father went on, as though she had not spoken, “Sauerdun and I had a drink together and he made a suggestion which had not occurred to me before, but one which I find extremely satisfactory.”

  “What was that, Papa?”

  She was thinking her father was taking a long time getting to the point and wondering how soon she could escape upstairs.

  “I have been considering for some time, Loretta,” the Duke replied, “whom you should marry and the Duc’s suggestion that it should be his son seems a very satisfactory solution to the problem.”

  Loretta sat bolt upright and her whole body was tense.

  “What – what are you saying – Papa?” she asked. “I don’t know what you are talking about!”

  “I am talking, my dear, about your marriage, and it would give me great pleasure to give you away to the Marquis de Sauerdun who, on his father’s death, will inherit a magnificent château in the Loire Valley, as well as vast estates in Normandy, where the Sauerdun family originally came from.”

  “But –
Papa!” Loretta exclaimed. “You cannot be serious! How can you possibly arrange my marriage with a man I have never even met? And you promised me I should have a Season in London.”

  “I know! I know!” the Duke said somewhat testily. “But quite frankly, my dear, this is too good an opportunity to miss.”

  Loretta rose to her feet.

  She was slim and not very tall and, although her father seemed to tower above her, she faced him defiantly.

  “I have no intention, Papa, whatever you may say, of marrying somebody I am not in love with!”

  “Love?” the Duke growled. “Love will come after marriage. What you have to do as my only daughter is to marry the right man, a man with a proper position in life and one I will choose for you.”

  “But Papa, I have to marry him – not you!”

  “I know that,” the Duke said angrily, “but if you think I am going to let you marry some whippersnapper who is impressed by your social rank or thinks that, because I have no son, you will inherit a great deal of money, you are very much mistaken.”

  “But, Papa, the only men I have met at the moment are those who live in the County and whom I have known all my life. And because Mama died, I have never been to parties or balls or anywhere else where I was likely to meet the man who might be my future husband.”

  “Even if you had been to balls,” the Duke answered, “you would not have been likely to meet anybody more suitable than the Marquis de Sauerdun.”

  “He may be very suitable from a social point of view,” Loretta said, “but how can I know if I will be happy with him as a husband if I have never even met him?”

  “You will meet him! Of course you will meet him!” the Duke replied. “I said to Sauerdun, ‘you had better bring your son to stay at Madrescourt before Royal Ascot .’ The Duc thought it an excellent idea and your engagement can be announced before the end of the Season.”

  “But, Papa, you are arranging it all! You are not giving me a chance to decide for myself whether I wish to marry the Marquis or whether I dislike him so much that I shall refuse to do anything of the sort.”

  “Refuse? What do you mean – refuse?” the Duke asked quite aghast. “I have never heard such nonsense! In France, as you are well aware, Loretta, marriages are arranged. The Duc is quite right and his son should not make a mistake a second time.”

  “A second time!” Loretta exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

  “The Marquis was married when he was very young,” her father replied. “Apparently, so Sauerdun tells me, he was infatuated with a young girl he met in Paris.”

  He paused before continuing,

  “She came of a good family and there was no reason why the Duc should not agree to the marriage. It took place and proved disastrous! The young people did not get on, there was no sign of an heir and then, fortunately for the Marquis , she was involved in a carriage accident and died of her injuries.”

  The Duke paused and then added before his daughter could speak,

  “This time Sauerdun is taking no chances. He has chosen his son’s wife with the same care that he expends on his horses!”

  “Horses!” Loretta cried, but the Duke continued as if she had not spoken,

  “Having heard how attractive you are and knowing you are my daughter, he is determined that the marriage shall take place as soon as possible after you have met and become engaged.”

  “I will not do it, Papa! I know exactly what you are saying, that I have absolutely no choice as to whether I will or will not marry the Marquis . He will come here and by the time he arrives you will have told most of our relatives why you have invited him.”

  Her voice rose as she went on,

  “Then once you have said that we are to be married, it will be impossible for me not to accept his proposal, if he ever makes one himself!”

  As Loretta finished speaking, the Duke flew into one of his rages.

  The whole household knew them well and, because he was such a large man and when angry very frightening, Loretta became paler and paler as he raged at her.

  He called her ungrateful, inconsiderate, selfish and unfeeling, saying that she was deliberately upsetting him when she knew quite well he was lonely and distraught after her mother’s death.

  He accused her of being heartless in a manner that, despite every resolution she made not to let him upset her, brought tears to her eyes.

  Finally when she wished to speak, he would not listen.

  “You will be married to Sauerdun if I have to drag you up the aisle! I will have no more nonsense about your falling in love and thinking you know what is better for you than I do. You will obey me, Loretta, do you hear me? You will obey me and that is my final word on the matter!”

  He shouted at her until Loretta knew that she could bear it no longer.

  With a little sob, she turned and ran from the room, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she crossed the hall and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

  When she reached it, she slammed the door behind her and, pulling off her riding jacket, sat down on the bed, covering her face with her hands.

  ‘What am I to do? Oh, God, what am I to do?’ she asked herself.

  Ever since she had been old enough to read love stories, starting with Romeo and Juliet and finding in many of the Classics tales that made her heart beat a little quicker, she had looked into the future when she herself would find love.

  It was then that she had been sure that one day she would meet the man of her dreams.

  As she grew older, he grew more and more real and, although he was faceless, she almost felt he was there beside her.

  Already their thoughts had merged together and eventually he would materialise as a real man and they would live happily ever after.

  It was a child’s Fairy story, but at the same time, as the years passed, it grew to be so much a part of Loretta’s life that never a day or a night passed when she was not telling herself of her love or rather living it in her mind.

  Her dream man was always with her, climbing the Himalayas, sailing up the Amazon, being shipwrecked on a desert island, pursued by brigands or chased by an Arab tribe.

  He always saved her and she knew, because he was with her, she need never be afraid.

  Secretly she thought that when due mourning for her mother was over and she went to London, her dream man would be waiting for her.

  She thought perhaps he would be at one of the big balls given by London’s famous hostesses. After all, they were all friends of her father’s.

  Or she would meet him at the ball that would be given in her honour at the family house in Park Lane.

  What would be the most romantic of all would be if she found him at Buckingham Palace in the Throne Room, when, with the three white Prince of Wales feathers in her hair, she made her curtsey.

  This would be either to Her Majesty Queen Victoria or, if she was indisposed, to the beautiful Princess of Wales.

  It had already been arranged that Madrescourt House in Park Lane should be open to receive Loretta, her father, and her aunt, the Countess Bredon, who was to chaperone her while she was in London.

  The Countess had sent down to the country for Loretta to choose a number of attractive gowns in which she was to make her debut.

  They all came from the most expensive and fashionable dressmakers in Bond Street, but Loretta, while admitting that they were quite appropriate for what she would be doing in London, thought they had no individuality about them.

  However, as her father was extremely generous to her, she was determined when she reached London to find a number of other dresses to reflect her own taste rather than that of her aunt’s, which was more conventional.

  Now she knew, although her father had not said as much, that there would be no point in her going to London, except perhaps for the actual ‘Drawing Room’ at Buckingham Palace.

  Instead, everything would be concentrated on the moment that the Duc de Sauerdun and his son, the Marquis arrived, wh
ich Loretta anticipated would be at the end of May or early in June.

  ‘I shall be deprived of the chance of meeting anyone else, especially after what I have just said to Papa,’ Loretta thought.

  Because she was so close to her father, she knew exactly how his mind worked and she was sure that he would now make every excuse not to take her to London.

  He would instead concentrate on preparing to entertain his future son-in-law in what might be termed Royal fashion.

  ‘It is unfair – very – unfair!’ Loretta told herself and felt as if she was in a trap from which there was no escape.

  At the same time she was determined not to be forced into a loveless marriage which she was certain would be disastrous not only for herself but for anyone who married her.

  She had to find some way to circumvent it.

  It was not going to be easy – she was well aware of that – knowing what her father was like when he had made up his mind and being intelligent enough to realise that the idea of her being married to the Duc de Sauerdun’s son was in fact quite a sensible one from a parental point of view.

  Of course the Marquis was what was called ‘a good catch’ and it was doubtful if there was any eligible young man in England who could match him for social position or for the wealth that the Sauerduns possessed.

  Loretta had heard in the past how exceptional it was and indeed their possessions were extolled over the whole world.

  She had not listened very attentively when her father spoke of the pictures owned by the Sauerdun family, although she realised from what he said that they rivalled the collections in the Louvre and in the National Gallery.

  But the Duc’s horses had impressed her and his stable was certainly larger and more successful than her father’s or perhaps anyone else in England.

  She could understand that when Minotaur, her father’s best racehorse, had beaten the Duc’s, it had put him in a good humour and following that he would have agreed to anything that might be suggested.

  She could only think that the Duc de Sauerdun must have some special reason for arranging his son’s marriage in such haste, rather than inviting her and her father to stay with them in France.