The Odious Duke Read online

  Impetuously and forgetting everything at the sight of a familiar face, she called out,

  “Giles! Giles.”

  They had almost come to a standstill at that moment owing to a congestion of phaetons and curricles near the centre of the Row and the man on a showy grey horse moving in the opposite direction was just about to pass the Duke’s phaeton when he heard Verena’s cry.

  He looked round in surprise and then stared at Verena without even recognising her.

  “Giles! It is I. Verena! Surely you remember me?”

  In astonishment the Captain’s hand went out towards his hat.

  “Verena,” he exclaimed. “I hardly expected to see you here!”

  “But I am, I have just arrived in London and, Giles, I was hoping very much to find out where you were.”

  The Duke holding in his pair watched Captain Winchcombe-Smythe draw his horse alongside the phaeton. Verena bent down towards him and the Duke thought that he was good-looking of his type.

  He, however, looked his age and had the heavy paunchy figure of a self-indulgent man and, under his eyes, which were set slightly too close together, the lines of dissipation were beginning to show.

  But to a young undiscerning girl the Duke thought that he would be prepossessing because besides his good looks he was obviously a dandy.

  Giles’s hair, painstakingly arranged in the fashion set by the King when he was Prince Regent had undoubtedly taken hours to achieve and the Duke’s experienced eye travelled from the over-curled brim of the tall beaver hat to the points of Giles’s collar, which were too high.

  The large bright buttons that ornamented the exaggerated style of his riding coat and the excessively broad white bands on his riding boots would have made Beau Brummel, who had invented the vogue, shudder at their vulgarity.

  “I had not expected to find you in London, Giles,” Verena was now saying,

  “I am stationed here,” he replied.

  “I had imagined that you must be in India or somewhere like that as I had not heard from you.”

  “I am afraid we must move,” the Duke interrupted, realising that his phaeton was holding up a number of vehicles behind him.

  “So I will come and call on you, Verena,” Giles said hastily. “Where are you staying?”

  “With my Godmother, Lady Bingley, in Manchester Square.”

  “I will be there this afternoon,” he promised.

  He was then forced to move or be run into by a curricle driven by a very lovely lady whose horses appeared to be almost beyond her control.

  The Duke drove his phaeton further down the Row.

  After a moment Verena said a little breathlessly,

  “I had not expected to find Giles here – so smartly dressed.”

  “A very Tulip of Fashion!” the Duke remarked drily.

  “He had no money when he last came to visit Grandpapa.”

  Verena was talking almost to herself rather than to the Duke. As he did not answer she went on,

  “Did you see the diamond in his cravat? Surely it was a little odd to wear anything so flashy in the daytime. And it must have been extremely expensive!”

  The Duke had indeed noticed the diamond and thought it to be in the worst of bad taste. And he could not help feeling pleased that Verena’s discerning eye had recognised that diamonds of such magnitude were not worn when riding.

  “So what did you think of his horse?” she asked, but still in a low rather puzzled tone.

  The Duke was too wise to say what he really thought of the animal.

  “Perhaps your cousin hired it,” he suggested generously.

  “Yes, he may have done.”

  The frown between her eyes vanished.

  “I would not like to think that Giles of all people should be taken in by a showy piece of horseflesh that doubtless after a few miles would be gone in the wind.”

  “You are being bitingly critical,” the Duke smiled.

  “Oh, am I?” she asked. “Indeed I hope not.”

  There was no doubt that her meeting with her cousin had disturbed her. Her laughter had gone and the Duke had difficulty in getting even a smile out of her before he drove her back to Manchester Square.

  She thanked him politely and then jumped down from the phaeton without difficulty. The Duke was unable to leave his horses and in fact there was nothing he could do except to raise his tall hat and drive away, leaving her standing on the doorstep.

  She looked, he thought, rather forlorn and a trifle apprehensive.

  Lady Bingley had difficulty in discovering from Verena whether she had enjoyed her drive in the Park or not. But as her Ladyship was slightly indisposed owing to the gaieties of the day before, she retired to rest after luncheon, saying that she intended to sleep off a tiresome headache.

  Verena went into the drawing room and picked up a book. But after holding it in front of her eyes for nearly a quarter of an hour she realised that she had not read a word.

  Rising, she walked about the room. She knew that she was beset by problems that she could hardly put into words but nevertheless made her restless.

  She was about to go into the garden to seek some fresh air when the butler opened the door to announce,

  “Captain Winchcombe-Smythe.”

  “Giles, I was just thinking about you,” Verena exclaimed.

  “You could not say anything to me that would gratify me more,” he replied, but with the complacency of a man who knows his worth.

  He came into the room and she was dazzled by the splendour of his attire, the bright green of his coat, the golden yellow of his pantaloons and the mixture of colours in his embroidered waistcoat. The flashing fob that hung beneath it seemed almost as dazzling as the diamond he once again wore in his cravat.

  “You are very dandyish, Giles,” Verena exclaimed, as usual saying the first thing that came into her head. “I did not expect you to appear as, what is the right expression? A Tulip of Fashion!”

  She remembered the sarcasm in the Duke’s voice when he had made the same observation in the Park, but Giles took it as a compliment.

  “And you are even prettier than I remember,” he replied. “Tell me, what brings you to London?”

  “I have – come for a – short holiday.”

  “You don’t mean to tell me that crabby old firebeard has let you off the leash?” Giles asked with a low laugh.

  “You must not speak of Grandpapa in such a manner,” Verena said, feeling suddenly angry. “He was such a wonderful man.”

  Even as she spoke she realised the mistake that she had made.

  She saw that her Cousin Giles stiffened and almost incredulously he queried,

  “Was! You said ‘was’, Verena. Do you mean to tell me the General is dead?”

  For a moment Verena thought of denying the truth. Then she knew that it was impossible.

  “Yes, Grandpapa is dead,” she answered in a low voice. “But it is a secret – he did not wish it announced for three months.”

  “A secret!” Giles repeated in astonishment. “But why? What was his reason?”

  Verena did not reply and a crafty look came into his eyes.

  “A secret and he sent you to London,” he said slowly. “You are not in mourning and I find you driving in the Park with some buck who can afford the very best horses and a slap-up high perch phaeton. What is the explanation, Verena?”

  “Grandpapa held a strong dislike for mourning and any fuss being made over his death,” Verena tried to explain. “He wished me to – enjoy myself. I had been alone with him for so long, not entertaining and not meeting anyone – ”

  “And your grandfather also hoped that you would find someone else to captivate your heart,” Giles said slowly. “Have you found that person, Verena?”

  “No, no of course not.”

  “And yet you have not tried to get in touch with me!”

  “I intended to. I only arrived here the day before yesterday. But you left me no address and you di
d not write to me, Giles!”

  “How could I?” he asked, “when I had been forbidden the house and the General so vehemently disapproved of me? Now he is dead, Verena, and I judge by your appearance that he has left you well provided.”

  Verena did not respond and after a moment he continued,

  “What has he left you, the house and estate as he told me he would do and all his money? How much did it amount to?”

  Verena turned aside her head.

  “Well, I have an idea that it was a great deal more than most people anticipated,” Giles went on. “I found out what your grandfather received in prize money and knowing him I am certain he invested wisely. So is it one hundred thousand pounds, Verena, that you have inherited?”

  “No! Not as – much as that.”

  “But not far off it,” Giles carried on, his eyes on her face. “Well, it should keep you in comfort in your old age if it is well administered by your husband.”

  Verena moved restlessly across the room.

  “I don’t think we should.be talking about – such things.”

  “What else should we be talking about,” he asked. “Our marriage? When do you intend to marry me, Verena? For I should like to know that there was still a Winchcombe on the estate. A Winchcombe owning The Priory, as we have always owned it for so many centuries.”

  “I am not thinking of – marriage at the – moment,” Verena faltered.

  “That is untrue!” he contradicted her. “Have I omitted to tell you how much I have been thinking of you and dreaming of your innocent eyes? And yearning, of course, for this day when there is no longer any obstacle in our way and we can be together.”

  He had an amused look on his face as he saw Verena’s hands flutter as if to still a sudden nervousness.

  ‘She has improved,’ Giles thought, ‘and, although not my type, she is damned well endowed!’

  He was sure of himself, well aware of his physical attractiveness and he knew that women liked to be soft-soaped in sentiment. And who could do it better than he?

  “You have greatly increased in looks, little Verena,” he said, “and I promise you, my pretty one, that we shall deal well together.”

  “No – no – !”

  The Captain then pulled her into his arms and she was struggling frantically against him when the door opened.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Selchester,” old Johnson mumbled.

  Verena, flushing with embarrassment, wrenched herself free of her cousin’s arms as the Duke entered the room.

  He seemed for a moment overpoweringly big and broad-shouldered and Verena thought unhappily that the expression on his face was one of disdain, almost of disgust. But his voice was calm and portrayed nothing but an indifferent courtesy as he said,

  “Good afternoon, Verena. I was expecting to find her Ladyship with you.”

  Verena knew that there was a subtle rebuke in the words and replied hastily,

  “My Godmother had a – headache and has retired to – rest. I don’t think you have met my – cousin, Captain Giles Winchcombe-Smythe.”

  “How do you do,” the Duke said, holding out his hand. “I believe you are in my old Regiment.”

  “The Life Guards,” the Captain replied.

  “I greatly congratulate you,” the Duke answered. “I cannot conceive a better one.”

  The Duke was so genial that Verena felt her agitation subside.

  “We had no time to meet this morning in the Park,” he continued, “but Verena has spoken about you. You were previously in the Eleventh Foot, I believe?”

  “Yes, I transferred two months ago,” the Captain replied. “Now there is no fighting it is pleasant to be back in London.”

  “Yes, indeed,” the Duke agreed.

  “I am sure that Your Grace finds it as devilish amusing as I do,” Giles remarked with an innuendo in his voice.

  “But of course.” the Duke answered.

  Verena was puzzled. She was well aware that the Duke seemed to be going out of his way to be pleasant to her cousin and yet she held the feeling that the two men had little in common.

  It was hard not to draw a contrast between them even though she felt disloyal in doing so. The Duke’s clothes were so unobtrusive, so part of himself that one could hardly notice them. He only appeared supremely dignified and elegant, while the attire of Giles seemed to scream loudly to be noticed.

  The only jewellery worn by the Duke was a plain gold signet ring on a finger of his left hand. Giles, Verena perceived, had a ring on each hand and both were sparklingly bejewelled.

  “That was a fine pair of bloodstock you were driving this morning,” Giles was saying in the over-hearty way of one man of the world talking to another.

  “Yes, indeed,” the Duke replied, “I am very pleased with them.”

  “Must have cost you a pretty penny. I paid a monkey for the animal I was riding and I have two others in mind. I am sure Verena will lose her heart to them, if it is not already given to someone else.”

  He gave Verena a knowing glance.

  “She was always mad about horseflesh.”

  “So I understand,” the Duke observed quietly.

  “Well, one thing I would like to do, Duke,” the Captain said in an ingratiating manner, “would be to visit your stables. I am sure you would not object to Verena and me trotting along to see them one day.”

  “I should be delighted.”

  Verena found that she was clenching her hands together because she realised that Giles should not be talking in such a way, he should not be soliciting invitations and should not be forcing himself on the Duke as if they were old friends.

  Her agitation must have communicated itself with the Duke, for he turned to her and she thought that the disgust had vanished from his eyes and instead there was a kindness that unexpectedly made her heart leap.

  “Verena, I came to ask you – ” the Duke began, but at that moment the door opened again.

  “Mr. Jasper Royd, miss,” Johnson announced.

  Verena, who had her back to the door, turned round – and then as she did so felt herself freeze into immobility!

  For a moment she could neither move, speak nor think! She could only stare, unable to believe her eyes.

  Standing there in the doorway was the gentleman with the pointed features, the tight lips and the dark greedy eyes she had last watched from between the barrels in the dark and dank cellar of The Priory.

  It was the “Evil Genius” and for a moment she felt she was unable to breathe.

  Then, as if in a dream, she heard her cousin say,

  “Jasper! I was hoping that you would drop in. That was why I left a message for you at the Club. I wanted you to meet Verena. And I daresay you know the Duke of Selchester.”

  “I do indeed,” Jasper Royd replied. “But I am surprised, Theron, to find you here.”

  “The surprise is mine,” the Duke said. “We have not met for some time, Jasper.”

  “No, and you need not expect me,” Jasper Royd answered. “I shall not be calling on you as the importunate beggar. I am as it happens now quite warm in the pockets!”

  His voice was taunting, an insolent note in it, but the Duke replied gravely,

  “I am indeed glad to hear it.”

  “Jasper, you have not yet said ‘how do you do’ to Verena!” Giles interrupted.

  “How very remiss of me!” Jasper Royd exclaimed. “The sight of my cousin, Theron, has put everything else out of my head. You must forgive me, Miss Winchcombe, for I can assure you that ever since Giles told me about you I have been eager to make your acquaintance.”

  He took Verena’s hand and with a tremendous, almost superhuman effort she managed to curtsey and murmur without stuttering,

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And now if you will excuse me,” the Duke said, “I would, before I leave, ask Miss Winchcombe if she would come to dine tonight with my grandmother – ?”

  “ – and my grandmother!” Jasp
er Royd interposed.

  “But of course,” the Duke replied. “I had not forgotten that, Jasper.”

  “So you are not proposing a very gay evening for the girl,” Jasper Royd sneered. “The Duchess must now be eighty if she is a day and that dismal house the other side of Hampstead Heath is as full of ghosts as any graveyard!”

  “I should still like you to meet my dear grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Selchester,” the Duke proposed, speaking only to Verena.

  Her face was very pale and there was a stricken look in her eyes that he had last seen when she had come from her grandfather’s bedroom, having seen him dead.

  “Not – tonight,” Verena faltered. “I must be at home – tonight.”

  “Then perhaps tomorrow night,” the Duke said gently. “I will let my grandmother know that you will accept her invitation for tomorrow. She is greatly looking forward to making your acquaintance, Verena.”

  “Tomorrow night – would be very – pleasant,” Verena murmured.

  The Duke took her hand and her fingers tightened on his.

  She felt that she must hold onto him, she could not let him go!

  Yet somehow he did not seem to understand her need of him. He released her hand and turned towards the door.

  “Good day, Captain Winchcombe-Smythe,” he said most politely. “Goodbye, Jasper.”

  The door closed behind him and Jasper Royd stood looking at it as if he could watch the Duke descending the stairs.

  “Curse him!” he thundered aloud. “If ever a man has bedevilled my existence it is my Cousin Theron!”

  “What could he have done to you?” Giles enquired.

  “What has he not done?” Jasper Royd asked with a shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, can you be so cork-brained, my dear Giles, not to realise that he stands between me and the Dukedom.”

  “Good God,” the Captain exclaimed with a ribald laugh, “I cannot envisage you, Jasper, as a Duke!”

  “But I can,” Jasper Royd said very quietly.

  There was something in his voice and a sudden narrowing of his eyes that told Verena as clearly as if the words had been shouted in her ear that the Duke was in danger!

  Danger – from the “Evil Genius!’

  CHAPTER NINE