Love At Last Read online

  “Is anyone carrying a hunting knife?” she cried.

  One was produced and she then cut Ivan’s jacket in two so that the left hand side could be pulled off his arm.

  She then did the same to his shirt, folded it into a solid pad and placed it over the bleeding wound.

  Then she pulled off her white stock and asked the nearest man to help her slip it beneath his back so that she could tie it tightly over the pad.

  The Earl then came galloping up with several men carrying a gate.

  “If we put him on this, we can carry him back,” he declared, as he anxiously regarded the unconscious Ivan.

  “That’s excellent, Papa.”

  Ivan stirred and murmured something.

  Then Natasha coughed and opened her eyes.

  “Where am I?” she enquired weakly. “What has happened?”

  She tried to sit up and then saw the senseless figure of Ivan.

  “Aaah, now I remember. He cannot be dead. Say he is not dead,” she moaned.

  “No, Countess – do calm yourself, he is not dead,” came in Guy, kneeling beside her. “Cecilia is looking after him.”

  “Lady Cecilia? But he must have a doctor right away!”

  “He will have one,” Cecilia answered as she stood up to oversee the operation of lifting Ivan carefully onto the gate.

  “Cecilia is almost a doctor herself,” persisted Guy soothingly, patting Natasha’s hand. She groaned and fell back onto the ground.

  “Papa, I think another gate is needed,” said Cecilia.

  A little procession formed as the two gates acting as stretchers were carried across the fields and through the Park back to Yarlington Manor.

  Inside the house Cecilia instructed the footmen that Ivan be carried to the bedroom that was nearest a bathroom and then that Countess Natasha be escorted to her room.

  “And take a glass of brandy to her,” she added.

  By the time he was placed onto the bed, Ivan was showing signs of returning to consciousness.

  Then he opened his eyes and looked straight into Cecila’s, but for a second he appeared bewildered and then his expression cleared.

  “There was a shot,” he sighed faintly. “Have I been wounded?”

  Cecilia nodded.

  “Someone was seen galloping away from the scene and part of the hunt gave chase.”

  “You are safe? You were not hurt?” he asked.

  Cecilia was deeply touched that he could think of her at such a time.

  “I am fine,” she assured him.

  “You are a magnificent rider,” he said in a slightly stronger voice.

  “Hush, do not talk. The doctor will soon be here.”

  “I am happy with you as my doctor – ”

  Cecilia found herself blushing.

  “Doctor Jenkins is a splendid practitioner and is not unacquainted with bullet wounds. In the shooting season accidents occur.”

  At that very moment the doctor himself entered the room.

  “Well, Lady Cecilia, what have we here?”

  It took some time for the bullet to be located and extracted. Ivan stoutly refused an anaesthetic and seeing that the procedure was causing him a great deal of pain, Cecilia left the room so that he should not feel embarrassed if he had to cry out.

  Eventually Doctor Jenkins came to report to Cecilia and the Earl.

  “It’s a clean wound, admirably staunched by you, Lady Cecilia, and I’ve been able to extract the bullet. Here it is – it came from some sort of rifle, I’ll be bound.”

  He laid it on an occasional table at the Earl’s side.

  “The young gentleman is full of guts – never made a sound. I’ve given him something for the pain and I’ve told him to refrain from alcohol. He’s been lucky, a little further to the right and he’d have gone. Someone been out after deer, my Lord?”

  “Firing into the middle of a hunt when in full cry, doctor?” the Earl retorted ironically. “But I do understand that you would like to find some innocent or even halfway innocent explanation for this incident. I am afraid, though, that there can only be one conclusion over this. Someone intended to kill the Prince.”

  “Prince, is it?” Doctor Jenkins exclaimed, looking searchingly at the Earl.

  “Prince Ivan of Rusitania,” Cecilia told him.

  “Prince or not, I shall have to report the incident to Sergeant Branch of the Constabulary.”

  “I would be grateful if you could do that,” said the Earl. “A man was seen and pursued by several members of the hunt. No doubt we shall soon know if he has been caught.”

  A few minutes later Algy arrived back, panting and covered in mud

  “No go, I’m afraid,” he said despondently, dragging a hand across his face. “We chased him for several miles, but he had too big a start and too fast a mount.”

  “Anything recognisable about the man?” asked the Earl.

  Algy shook his head.

  “Nobody could get a look at him, too far away, sir.”

  “But you are sure he was the man who fired the shot?”

  “Yes, my Lord, I saw the gun,” said one of the other riders.

  “How is Ivan?” Algy now asked.

  “Recovering,” said Doctor Jenkins. “He is young and extremely healthy. I would recommend that he takes things very easily for the next few days. However, I don’t suppose he will do anything of the sort. I know you young gentlemen only too well.”

  “Have you attended the Countess Natasha, doctor?” asked Cecilia.

  “Young woman with red hair? Yes, I looked her over after I’d bandaged up the Prince. She had more or less recovered by then. Case of hysteria, if you ask me,” he added brusquely.

  It seemed that Natasha’s famous charm had made little impression on the doctor.

  “Well, I must leave,” he stated. “I will call at the Sergeant’s on my way home and make a report about the shooting. No doubt he will call here later.”

  “I think that sherry is called for,” declared the Earl. “You will, I hope, stay for a glass, doctor?”

  Cecilia left the men to their drink.

  She went upstairs and knocked at Ivan’s door.

  He was sitting up on the bed still in the remnants of his clothes with his left arm in a sling and his chest heavily bandaged. His face looked strained and drawn, but he was remonstrating with his valet.

  Yuri held a nightshirt in his hand.

  “Take it away and bring me a fresh set of clothes.”

  The valet saw Cecilia.

  “My Lady, please tell my Master that he should rest in bed – not get up and move about.”

  “Your valet is right,” admonished Cecilia.

  She hurried over to the bed and put out a hand to stop Ivan standing up.

  “For Heaven’s sake, you should know better,” she scolded him.

  “What I do know is that this is nothing beside what happens on the battlefield,” he mumbled as he subsided back against the pillows, his face as white as a sheet.

  “I will arrange for soup and rolls to be brought to you for lunch. After that we will see how you feel.”

  “Yes, of course, Doctor Cecilia,” concurred Ivan, his eyes smiling at her.

  “And you will be pleased to hear that the Countess Natasha has apparently recovered from her swoon,” added Cecilia, a little flustered by his smile.

  “Swooned, did she? I wonder why!”

  He sounded a little caustic.

  “Because she cares for you,” Cecilia said quietly.

  Somehow all this seemed to have brought Ivan and her closer together and she felt she could say anything to him.

  “Yuri, take that damn nightshirt away and bring me my country suit,” Ivan growled to his valet. “I promise not to put it on until after soup and rolls have restored me to full health.”

  Cecilia could not help grinning and after Yuri had left the room, she turned to him,

  “Prince Ivan, this is now really serious. There was the runaway ho
rse at the Race Meeting and now this shot. Someone is trying to kill you.”

  Ivan lay back and closed his eyes.

  Cecilia waited, wondering if he might be losing consciousness. But his colour was improving all the time and soon she lifted his lids and saw that all trace of the light-hearted man-about-town had vanished.

  “Have you thought, Cecilia,” he now volunteered slowly, the intimate address seeming to come naturally to him, “have you thought that both those attacks might have had you as their target, not me?”

  “But why should anyone want to kill me?” Cecilia questioned him in consternation.

  “I am trying to work it out,” he frowned.

  With his right hand he picked up Cecilia’s from where it lay on the bed beside him and held it.

  “Perhaps the soup will help me to think,” he added with a smile.

  “You should now rest,” Cecilia told him, gently releasing her hand from his.

  With all her heart she wanted it to remain in his, but her training demanded that he should stay quiet in order to regain his strength.

  “And I should now go and see how the Countess is faring,” she declared.

  She drew the bedcover over him, gently smoothed it over his chest, gave him a bright smile and left the room.

  Natasha lay on her bed sipping brandy.

  Her habit had been replaced by a lacy wrap and the moment Cecilia appeared, she sat upright.

  “How is he? How is Ivan? Will he die?”

  Cecilia smiled, the picture of Ivan trying to leave his bed vivid in her mind.

  “No, Countess. The bullet thankfully missed his heart and does not seem to have done any great damage. A little rest and he will recover completely.”

  The brandy glass wobbled dangerously as Natasha collapsed back against her pillows. Cecilia rescued the glass and put it on the bedside table next to the half empty brandy decanter.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you,” murmured Natasha.

  “I think you need to rest, too,” Cecilia advised. “Lie here and I will arrange for a light luncheon to be brought to you. There is nothing at all planned for this afternoon, we thought that we would be hunting, so there will be plenty of time for you to relax and recover from your shock.”

  After she left Natasha’s room, Cecilia leant against the closed door for a moment.

  She felt as perplexed as Natasha. How she longed to retire to her room and rest for a few hours.

  Instead she pulled herself away from the door and went to organise trays of food for Ivan and Natasha and to see if the kitchen could come up with a nice luncheon for the rest of the house party.

  Then she went to her room and changed out of her habit.

  Reassured by Ivan’s condition, luncheon developed into a very merry session.

  Cecilia, the only woman present, left from the table shortly after two o’clock and went to sit in the drawing room. She was not in the least surprised at the failure of the gentlemen to join her there. They had almost certainly repaired to the billiard room.

  At three o’clock the drawing room door opened and there was Ivan, pale but dressed in his country suit, his left arm neatly arranged in its sling.

  Yuri was at his side protesting in Rusitanian.

  Ivan responded in the same language and Cecilia had no trouble in understanding that he was instructing his servant to mind his own business.

  Looking sulky Yuri gave Cecilia a little bow and took himself off.

  “The soup was just excellent,” Ivan told her as she stood, wondering whether she should come and help him to sit in a chair. “I am completely recovered.”

  He spoke calmly and with conviction.

  “I am very pleased to hear it. Particularly as I seem to have been deserted by everyone and am now delighted to have some company,”

  Cecilia was worried that he might be overstraining himself, but felt very happy to have him to herself for once.

  Then unexpectedly the drawing room door opened again and a footman announced,

  “Prince Peter of Voskia, my Lady.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ivan heard the name with amazement and outrage.

  How dare his cousin suddenly turn up in this way!

  Prince Peter stepped into the drawing room.

  Unlike Ivan, he was dressed, not in a country suit, but in formal attire with a long jacket and striped trousers, just as if he had been to a business meeting in the City.

  “My dear Lady Cecilia,” he began, striding across the room and taking her hand in both of his. “I am so sorry not to have been able to join you earlier but, as I explained when you made your so-kind invitation, I had business to attend to.”

  Hardly able to believe his ears, Ivan looked at his hostess.

  Cecilia was blushing as she glanced across at Ivan.

  “Your cousin asked me and my father to dine with him this evening,” she said in a somewhat strained voice. “I told him it was impossible, but suggested that he might like to join our party here. The Countess told me, Prince Peter, how you wished to reconcile all difficulties between you and Prince Ivan and I thought that meeting on what might be called neutral ground – could aid the process – ”

  Her voice faded away towards the end of her little speech and Ivan could see that she now deeply regretted her impulse.

  Ivan decided to take a hand.

  “Peter, you don’t know how pleased I am at this wish of yours. Nothing could make me happier than that we should be able to meet with the freedom and spirit that we did when we were boys.”

  Peter turned and his gaze fell on his sling.

  “But what do we have here, Ivan? You are injured! An accident? Not serious, I hope?”

  Along with the luncheon to Ivan’s room had come Algy, who had filled him in on exactly what had happened.

  Ivan had already suspected that his cousin could be behind the shooting. Looking at him now, however, it was difficult to imagine that Peter had ridden hell-for-leather across a hunting field for several miles.

  “A graze – nothing more,” Ivan now replied airily. “Some damned doctor – Lady Cecilia, I apologise for my language – let me start again. The good Doctor Jenkins ordered me to carry my arm in this sling and not to exert myself overmuch.”

  “I see,” Peter responded slowly, studying his cousin closely. “Well, I am sorry to hear it.”

  He looked around.

  “I believe that Natasha is here for the weekend as well?”

  “She is resting,” Cecilia came in hastily. “She will join us later. I hope you have been shown to your room, Prince Peter. You came with your valet, of course?”

  “Indeed. We have been made most welcome.”

  Cecilia rang the bell and then asked them if they would like coffee or would prefer tea.

  “Why, English tea would be delicious,” said Peter.

  “Coffee, please,” added Ivan.

  Feeling so weak, he did not imagine that tea would be of any help. Strong coffee, on the other hand, could possibly make a new man of him.

  Cecilia gave them each a sweet smile and told the footman to bring both fresh coffee and tea.

  “Do please tell me,” she turned to Peter, “was your journey down here comfortable? I am sorry you did not let me know which train you were taking so we could send a carriage to meet you.”

  Ivan sat down slowly and watched his cousin flick the ends of his long jacket aside as he arranged himself in a chair with easy style.

  He was immensely suspicious of the man’s self-possession. The fact that Peter himself had not been on the hunting field with a rifle did not mean that he could not have hired someone else to do it. In fact that was much more likely.

  “The train was most comfortable, thank you, Lady Cecilia. There was a chaise of some sort, do I understand you call it a ‘fly’? Anyway, there it was at the station and ready to fly me to Yarlington Manor!”

  “Yes, Prince Peter,” Cecilia laughed in the way that Ivan had so often admired.
Now it made him grit his teeth. “Bob James, the driver, knows the way here very well.”

  “And the country the train took us through was very beautiful. Even though it is winter, the fields look so rich. The earth, it is now ready I think for planting? Everything looks so fertile, unlike my country where the soil is poor. Voskia lacks the fertility of Rusitania and our people have to work very hard to provide enough for their needs. But, I forget, Lady Cecilia – you have visited Voskia.”

  “But that was in the summer, when all looked very productive,” Cecilia replied gently. “Appearances can be deceptive.”

  Ivan looked at her sharply. Did she mean anything by that remark apart from the obvious?

  “Of course,” he remarked unemotionally, “Southern Rusitania will take a very long time to recover from the devastation it suffered during our recent war.”

  Peter was saved from having to counter this by the arrival of Natasha – dressed in an afternoon gown of beige chiffon, she looked both fragile and alluring.

  “Ivan,” she exclaimed, coming towards him with both hands outstretched. “I was so afraid you were dead!”

  Ivan managed to evade her hands.

  “Natasha,” he said, giving her a slight bow. “As I was explaining to Cousin Peter here, it was little more than a graze.”

  Immediately Natasha swung round.

  “Prince Peter! How wonderful that you have been able to join us. I have been telling Lady Cecilia how eager you were to – ”

  “Have all our differences reconciled,” added Ivan – he did not think he could bear to hear it all over again.

  “Exactly, my dear,” sighed Natasha, seating herself on a settee and looking at each of them in turn as though she would like both of them to join her there.

  Ivan then had a moment’s insane desire for him and Peter to seat themselves either side of Natasha.

  What would she do then?

  What would Cecilia do?

  Idly he wondered if whatever Doctor Jenkins had given him was making slightly him light-headed. Perhaps it would be as well to sit quietly for a little while and drink his coffee.

  Peter leant back in his chair and placed his empty teacup on a side table.

  “My dear Lady Cecilia, you and your distinguished father are the very best of this delightful country. I did not have the good luck, unlike my cousin Ivan, to have much of my education here. No relaxing three-year sojourn at Oxford for me. I was lucky to have a year in Vienna.”