Love At Last Read online

  “It’s been quite an evening. I do feel I was slightly to blame. I could be said to have led him on – ever so slightly.”

  “Nonsense! You were the perfect hostess dealing with a most unpleasant guest.”

  “It’s strange. When Papa and I met Prince Peter at the Voskian Embassy at the Exhibition, he was charming. Yet this evening it seemed as if he was a different person.”

  Cecilia felt reaction begin to set in. She sat down on a chair and put a hand to her head.

  Then Ivan was standing before her with a glass in his hand.

  “I found a brandy decanter over there,” he waved towards the side table. “Drink this, I think you need it.”

  Cecilia took the glass gratefully and drank, feeling the heat of the fiery liquid warm her body.

  Ivan drew up another chair, sat in front of her and held her free hand with his.

  She loved his touch – it was as warming to her as the brandy.

  She put down the empty glass and placed her other hand on top of their two joined ones – it was as if she could feel his heart beating through his hand.

  “Ivan?” she said at last, using his name for the first time without his title.

  He looked up from their hands and she was then horrified at the stark misery in his face.

  “I have brought danger into your life,” he moaned quietly. “I am not sure how, but I know I have. I would do anything to remove it.”

  Her thumb moved, stroking the back of his hand as it held hers.

  She so wanted to stroke his thick dark hair and ease the pain in his eyes.

  “Where does the danger come from?” she asked in a whisper. “Is it Prince Peter?”

  He let go of her hand so suddenly she almost cried out, her sense of loss was so acute.

  He rose to his feet and started to walk about the drawing room, picking up the table that had been knocked over but leaving the ornaments on the Aubusson carpet.

  “I’m almost certain it’s Peter. What I can’t work out is whether I am the target or you are. On the face of it, it’s me. But there’s the strong possibility it could be you. If I had not galloped forward and jumped that hedge in such a helter-skelter fashion – pure showing off, I’m afraid – that bullet would have found you. You were the neater target, Cecilia. If they were out to get me, they had better chances.”

  He continued pacing.

  “What I can’t work out is why.”

  “It sounds to me much more likely that you are the one Prince Peter is out to eliminate.”

  “Whether I am or not, I cannot take the chance that for some reason he wants you removed.”

  Ivan came to a halt in front of the dying fire and stood facing her, the strong bones of his face set like stone.

  “So I have to sever our friendship.”

  “No!” She could not help herself. “You cannot do that!”

  His face softened.

  “Would you regret it so much?”

  She took control of herself – this was not the time to tell Ivan she loved him more than life itself.

  And after all she was her mother’s daughter and her mother would never have dreamed of telling any man she loved him until he had declared himself to her first.

  “Since we met at that Reception, I feel I have come to know you very well,” she said carefully. “Particularly when we played Bach together last night.”

  He stirred and she knew he was as in tune with her as she was with him.

  “Your cousin Prince Peter has done enough damage tonight without you creating a drama of possible threats to my life. I understand about the danger to yours and I beg you to take whatever action you feel necessary to guard it. I just cannot see any reason to end a friendship that gives both of us – I hope I am not presuming too much here – pleasure.”

  He came over and once again gripped her hand with his, then lifted it to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

  “You are the most sensible and intelligent woman I have ever met,” he murmured, his gaze fastened on hers.

  Cecilia closed her eyes and felt the death knell of her hopes in those words.

  No man in love with a woman would ever call her sensible and intelligent!

  She retrieved her hand.

  “Don’t say anything more.”

  “I shall travel to London as soon as possible and then make plans to return to Rusitania. I have been away too long.”

  “Do you intend to catch the same train as Prince Peter and Countess Natasha? That would surely make it too easy for them. Trains are dangerous. A quick opening of a door and a push at the right time could mean goodbye to the Ruler of Rusitania – ”

  She was aware of how he was watching her.

  “A milk train goes through here at five o’clock in the morning. I can drive you to the station in the trap and then no one will know how you’ve left.”

  “The stable staff?”

  “I’ll have the trap back and the horse stabled again before anyone is about.”

  Ivan looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.

  “There is sense in your idea,” he murmured finally. “Let us catch what sleep we can.”

  On the way upstairs she showed Ivan the side door where she would meet him with the trap.

  *

  Cecilia went to bed, but found sleep impossible.

  The events of the last two days jumbled themselves in her mind.

  Nothing seemed to make sense and the only fact she was completely certain about was that she was more in love with Ivan than ever.

  Then she realised there was another fact – Ivan did not love her and the last fact that she faced was that he was going to disappear from her life leaving her totally bereft.

  At half past three she rose from her bed, slipped on an old skirt and jacket, added a thick shawl, lit a lantern, and crept out of the house to the stables.

  There she found the pony and in the lantern’s half-light hitched it to the trap, cold hands making the fastening of the traces slow and difficult.

  At last it was done. Then she cut up an old sack and using binder twine tied the pieces round the pony’s hooves.

  She walked beside the pony, talking to it in a low undertone. Slowly they negotiated the stable yard, making little noise and then she led it round to the side door.

  Ivan was already waiting. He carried his violin and a Gladstone bag.

  Mumbling a greeting, Cecilia then pulled herself up into the driving seat.

  Ivan carefully put his belongings into the trap and clambered up beside her. He was not wearing a sling and in response to her query, he told her his shoulder was fine.

  The night was crystal clear and there was enough moonlight to show the way.

  Mystery cloaked the landscape and Cecilia felt a sense of danger all around and was glad to feel the solid strength of Ivan sitting beside her.

  The thought of having to say goodbye to him at the station was more than she could bear.

  “Your safety is everything to me,” Ivan suddenly said as the pony trotted onto the main road. “If it was shown that there was no friendship of any sort between us, then I think the danger would go away. If we returned to Yarlington, we could stage a bitter argument in front of everyone.”

  “But then you would have to catch the same train as your cousin and the Countess,” cried Cecilia, horrified at the idea.

  She was so certain it was Ivan who was the one in danger, not her.

  “Dammit, there must be a way of telling the world you have no connection with me,” he burst out.

  She could see that whatever she said, Ivan was determined to believe that his friendship endangered her.

  After a moment’s thought she suggested,

  “If you really feel it is necessary, how if I say that I was furious with you for hitting Prince Peter? That there was no need for you to act in such a barbaric way? We then had a row and I told you I never wanted to see you again. This morning I find a note saying you cannot stay a moment lo
nger in the same house as me and have decided to walk to the station to catch the train. How about that?”

  “Perfect,” he exclaimed in admiration.

  His praise gave her no satisfaction.

  The station came in sight and Cecilia drew the trap up outside.

  “The Station Master lives in the cottage over there,” she told him softly. “Get down quickly and look as though you have just walked here. You could mention something to that effect when he comes out for the train. Prince Peter may well ask him if he has seen you.”

  For a moment Ivan said nothing – he just sat next to Cecilia on the trap’s driving seat.

  It was almost as though he could not bring himself to leave and Cecilia wished with all her heart that she could drive them both back to Yarlington.

  A cloud obscured the moon and pitched them into darkness.

  “You must go,” she whispered, her heart breaking.

  Ivan jumped down to the ground and retrieved his violin and bag. His face was unreadable in the dark.

  “Do drive carefully, Cecilia,” he muttered. “I shall never forget what you have done for me.”

  It sounded so final.

  “Surely we must meet again before you leave?” she pleaded. “Surely it would not put either of us in danger if you were to call at Beaumont House. After all it would be only courteous to say goodbye to my father if not to me.”

  His low laugh came through the darkness.

  “Toujours politesse,” he said, an ironic note in his voice. “I think I would find it impossible to leave without calling. Go quickly now.”

  Something in his voice seemed to break.

  He slapped the pony’s side and, startled, it broke into a trot.

  Cecilia looked back, but all she could see was a tall shadow slightly darker than the shadows around him.

  There was nothing else she could do.

  Tears falling down her cheeks, she left it up to the pony to find its way home and several minutes later, she thought she heard the sound of a train.

  Somehow Cecilia managed to return pony and trap to their rightful places just before the first of the stable lads came on duty and she hoped he would not realise that the pony had been out for a drive.

  Back in her room, Cecilia undressed and climbed into bed.

  Stifling her sobs, she tried vainly to sleep.

  *

  When Mary, her maid, brought her early morning tea, she excused her appearance by saying she was coming down with a bad cold.

  Wearily she dressed and then she scribbled a note, put it in an envelope and wrote her name on the front.

  Downstairs she issued instructions for the carriage to take Peter and Natasha to the station.

  The Earl had gone for an early ride and none of the guests had yet made an appearance in the breakfast room. Both Peter and Natasha had asked for coffee and rolls to be served to them in their rooms.

  Cecilia ate her breakfast in solitary state, then went back upstairs.

  When she judged the moment right, she emerged again from her boudoir.

  Advancing to the head of the stairs, she saw Peter and Natasha waiting in the hall dressed for travel. They stood on opposite sides of the fire and looked as though neither wanted anything to do with the other.

  Cecilia paused at the top of the stairs.

  Then she ripped open the envelope she carried, read the note inside and gave a loud exclamation of annoyance.

  Both Peter and Natasha looked up at her.

  She crumpled the letter and envelope in her hand and came down the stairs with angry steps.

  Peter was wearing a military peaked cap pulled down over one eye, but it failed to hide the black bruising.

  Natasha, dressed in a mink coat with a matching hat, came forward,

  “Lady Cecilia, good morning to you. Here we are, all ready to leave.”

  Cecilia glanced at the clock in the hall.

  “The carriage will be here in half an hour. Will you not wait in the morning room?”

  There Algy and Sir Guy were having breakfast and they rose as Cecilia led in the departing guests.

  Natasha looked around.

  “Prince Ivan is not with you?”

  “Haven’t seen him,” answered Algy.

  “Not since last night,” added Guy.

  “Perhaps he is feeling exhausted after yesterday,” said Natasha. “I will go to his room and say goodbye.”

  Peter made some contemptuous remark in his own language.

  Cecilia made another exasperated noise.

  “I’m afraid Prince Ivan appears to have left.”

  She went to the fire and threw her crumpled letter onto the flames.

  “That was a note saying that he could not remain under the same roof with me a moment longer.”

  “Why?” mumbled Algy.

  Guy continued to eat kedgeree as Cecilia sat down heavily at the breakfast table.

  “We had a terrible row last night, – ”

  “After we retired?” demanded Natasha avidly.

  “I told him he should not have hit Prince Peter.”

  Algy and Guy gazed at Peter at the window looking as if he was trying to be invisible. He had had to remove his cap and the black eye was plain to see.

  “Weigh-heigh!” exclaimed Algy.

  “Don’t be coarse, Algy, please,” Cecilia scolded him with dignity. “I told Prince Ivan that his cousin might have misunderstood my behaviour, as a foreigner he might not understand our English sense of humour. Certainly Prince Ivan does not. He called me outrageous and, oh, but there is no use going over all the stupid names we called each other. He really is arrogant, isn’t he?” she appealed to Natasha.

  “My dear Lady Cecilia – I tried to warn you.”

  Natasha looked like a cat that found a pot of cream.

  “But where can he have gone?” she quizzed.

  “It’s ridiculous and typical,” cried Cecilia sounding annoyed. “The note said he was walking to the station and would take the first train that stopped.”

  Cecilia suddenly jumped up.

  “Oh dear, I wonder if he’s thought about his valet and his luggage. I’ll see if Yuri has packed his bags. He can catch your train. Algy, offer the Countess and Prince Peter some breakfast.”

  In half an hour all was organised and Cecilia waved goodbye to Peter, Natasha and Yuri with the deepest relief.

  Then came despair.

  *

  Once back in London, Cecilia busied herself with her clinic.

  It was the only thing that could keep her mind off all she had lost.

  She clung to the thought that Ivan had promised to come and say goodbye before he left England.

  As days passed without him calling on her, Cecilia wondered bitterly if he was asking Rosalind to be his bride before he returned to Rusitania.

  Five days after they returned to London, the Earl came home from the Foreign Office and asked her,

  “You’ll never guess who came to see me today.”

  “I just cannot think, Papa,” Cecilia answered in an uncharacteristically sharp tone. She did not wish to be teased.

  “Prince Ivan! There, that has surprised you, hasn’t it?”

  Her father sat down in his favourite chair.

  Cecilia froze.

  Had Ivan gone to say farewell to her father and not to her?

  “Is he returning – to Rusitania?” Cecilia asked her father trying to control her sudden trembling.

  The Earl did not seem to notice.

  “He wanted to consult me about graphite. We were supposed to have a chat about it in the country. My dear, I still don’t understand why he should have left so suddenly. I thought you both got on so well together? I mean, it’s not as if it could have been a lover’s tiff or anything like that.”

  Cecilia clenched her teeth and stayed silent.

  “Anyway, he apologised most abjectly for leaving and he told me that over the last several days he has been conducting some high l
evel research into mineral deposits. It seems that the moment he gets back to Rusitania he is going to set about developing them. He wanted to know what information I had on graphite.”

  “Has Ivan, that is, Prince Ivan, recovered from his bullet wound, Papa?”

  “He said he has and he seems healthy. That man’s stamina is amazing.”

  “Did he say when he was leaving for Rusitania?”

  “End of the week, I think. I say, I’m glad we have no engagement tonight, it’s been freezing hard all day. It’s let up a little now and I wouldn’t be surprised if it snows.”

  *

  The Earl was right.

  When Cecilia rose the next morning, she found a white world awaiting her.

  “You’re not going out?” her father said, astonished, as he came across his daughter putting on rubber boots in the hall. She was in a warm coat with a scarf over her hat.

  A small package in a basket was beside her.

  “I am afraid I have to. I picked up these drugs late yesterday and the clinic is desperate for them.”

  “Then please send someone else for Heaven’s sake. I understand there’s ice underneath the snow and it’s far too dangerous to take out a carriage.”

  “I shall walk,” Cecilia responded firmly.

  “Walk!”

  “It should not take much above an hour, but don’t expect me home until late this afternoon, they will be short staffed and I shall be needed.”

  “I would come with you, but Lord Lonsdale said that he would drop by today. Whether he’ll make it or not, who can say, but I am honour bound to wait for him. Now come on, darling, be reasonable.”

  Nothing the Earl could say would persuade Cecilia not to go or to take someone with her and he watched her helplessly as she left the house.

  The going was indeed hazardous. More than once Cecilia regretted her decision as she slipped and slithered on the frozen pavements.

  Traffic seemed to have stayed at home. Only heavy goods carts drawn by great shire horses gingerly traversed the frozen and snowbound streets.

  Once she reached the clinic, however, Cecilia was very pleased she had made the effort to go there.

  Several hours of really concentrated work followed as broken limbs from falls on the icy roads plus the more usual ailments needed attention and their new doctor had been unable to make it.

  As Cecilia was checking a young lad’s ankle injury and deciding he had not broken it, but had merely suffered a bad sprain, she felt a cold draught.