The Earl's Revenge Read online

  He turned in at the somewhat over-elaborate gates of Lord Bancroft’s house, feeling certain he had broken every record that anyone else could have achieved in driving down directly from London.

  He was also aware that it was exactly three minutes before two o’clock and punctuality always pleased him.

  It was one of the virtues he had been noted for in the Army and he was extremely annoyed if any of his men were late on parade.

  Or he would be angry if they did not carry out any order he gave them as quickly as he expected.

  Lord Bancroft’s house was vast and opulent, but not particularly attractive.

  As his phaeton came to a standstill, a red carpet was run down the steps up to the front door and two footmen in ostentatious livery ran to the side of it.

  Charles’s groom, who had been seated behind him, now jumped down to go to the horses’ heads.

  Charles descended next, slowly and with dignity.

  This was somewhat difficult considering how high above the ground the driver’s seat was situated.

  As he walked up the steps the footmen bowed and a white-haired butler greeted him.

  “Good morning, sir. I do trust you had a pleasant drive from London.”

  “Very pleasant and I am sure I set a record.”

  The butler smiled.

  “That’s just what we expected, sir.”

  He led the way along a heavily furnished passage without saying any more and opened a door at the end.

  As Charles went in he was aware that the room was heavily decorated with flowers.

  Silver was standing by the window wearing a pink gown.

  She looked like a rose herself.

  “Mr. Charles Lyndon to see you, Miss Silver,” the butler announced in stentorian tones.

  She turned away from the window, where she had been gazing at the white doves in the garden below.

  Charles walked towards her and she held out her hands.

  “I thought perhaps you would have forgotten that you were coming here today, Charles.”

  “You know perfectly well it is something I would not forget,” he replied. “And I must tell you that you are looking very lovely today.”

  She smiled sweetly at him as if the compliment was something she had not heard before.

  “I think you know why I am here,” he began.

  “You said that you wanted to see me, but you did not tell me the reason.”

  “What reason could there be? Except that I want, as I have never wanted anything before in my life, for you to be my wife!”

  Silver gave a start as if she was surprised and then she murmured,

  “How could I have ever guessed that was what you wanted to say to me?”

  Charles’s eyes twinkled.

  “I have never known you to be anything but most intelligent, Silver, so I am therefore quite sure, as we have been together so much for these last three weeks, that you realise I love you.”

  “I thought that maybe you did,” she answered, “and when you kissed me the night before last, I was certain at that moment that we both felt the same.”

  “And indeed I felt what you were feeling and this is what I have brought you.”

  He opened a small box before he gave it to her.

  She saw that the box contained a diamond ring.

  It was unusually beautiful in that the diamond in the centre was large and bluish white and was surrounded by other smaller diamonds of the same superlative quality.

  Silver gave a little cry that could have been either surprise or delight.

  Then, as Charles put the box into her hands and his arm went round her, she blurted out,

  “Wait!”

  “I thought,” he told her in a deep voice, “you would have thanked me without words.”

  His lips were seeking hers, but to his surprise she moved away from him.

  Then when she was facing him, she said,

  “I am sorry, Charles, but I cannot marry you.”

  For a short moment there was an astonished silence before he questioned her,

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that I cannot marry you and thus I cannot accept this very beautiful ring.”

  Almost reluctantly she closed up the box and held it out to him.

  He took it from her automatically.

  “I do not understand. You made it quite clear when I kissed you that you feel an affection for me. I thought when I brought that ring for you this morning, there was no question but that you wished to be my wife.”

  “I did feel like that when we were in the garden, but now things are rather different.”

  “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

  He was finding the whole conversation completely incomprehensible.

  It had never occurred to him for an instant that she would not marry him.

  He had kissed her very passionately in the garden of Devonshire House and she had made it quite clear that she loved him, he believed, to distraction.

  He could not understand now what she was saying.

  Nor why she had moved away from him.

  “This may come as something of a shock to you,” Silver continued hesitatingly, “but I have promised to marry Wilfred Shaw.”

  For a moment Charles thought he had not heard her correctly – it was impossible to accept what she had said.

  Wilfred, the Marquis of Shaw, was indeed the most unattractive young gentleman.

  Most members of White’s considered him a pest as he would just force himself on a company of acquaintances who had no wish for him to join them and talk incessantly in a high-pitched voice about his grievances with his family or his horses.

  He was undoubtedly a bore and, as Charles always thought, an unprepossessing one.

  He could not believe it that Silver had actually said she was going to marry Wilfred Shaw.

  Then almost as if it was opened in front of his eyes, he saw a paragraph.

  He had read it in The Morning Post whilst he was having his breakfast.

  “His Grace the Duke of Oakenshaw is seriously ill and we understand his relatives have been sent for from all parts of the country. His heir, the Marquis of Shaw, has already departed for the family seat in Oxfordshire where the Duke has been indisposed for some weeks.”

  Charles had read the paragraph in the paper without much interest.

  He thought that Wilfred was likely to be even more of a bore once he became the Duke.

  Now as he stared at Silver without speaking, she stammered a little incoherently,

  “I am sorry – Charles if it – upsets you.”

  “Upsets me!” he exclaimed. “You know perfectly well that you are only marrying Wilfred Shaw for his title. How can you stoop to do anything so despicable?”

  Silver turned her lovely face away from him.

  “I knew you would not understand,” she simpered, “but I want to be a Duchess and you know only too well it may be many years before your uncle dies.”

  Charles drew in his breath.

  He realised without her saying it out loud that she was thinking of him again as ‘the never never Peer’.

  He put the little velvet box into his pocket and in a controlled voice which was bitterly sarcastic, he grated,

  “Of course I must offer you my congratulations and my good wishes for your happiness.”

  He bowed and turning round walked to the door.

  As he pulled it open, Silver gave a little cry.

  “Wait, Charles, wait! I want to talk to you!”

  “There is nothing to say.”

  He walked from the room shutting the door quietly and deliberately behind him.

  He strode without hurrying down the passage and into the hall.

  The butler was not there and the three footmen in attendance looked at him in surprise as he passed them without speaking.

  Then walking slowly back down the carpeted steps he climbed back into his phaeton and his groom hurriedly jumped up behind him.

  He drove off down the drive.

  As he did so Silver appeared at the top of the steps.

  He thought she called out his name, but he did not listen and turned his face away so he need not look at her.

  He was still finding it so difficult to believe what he had actually heard.

  How was this possible?

  Silver was beautiful, charming and, he had felt, in love with him.

  How could she stoop to marry an unpleasant bore like the Marquis simply because he would become a Duke?

  Charles felt as if he had been struck heavily in the face. He found himself not only surprised, but horrified and extremely angry.

  He was not only angry with Silver but with himself.

  How could he, with all his experience, have believed that she loved him and would make him a good wife?

  All she had been thinking of was to grab the highest title available.

  The man attached to it obviously did not matter!

  All that mattered was his rank in the Nobility.

  Deep down in his heart Charles had always been an idealist where women were concerned.

  This was because he had loved his mother, a sweet and lovely person who had adored his father.

  She thought that everything he did was perfect and Charles could not remember any disagreeable words being exchanged between his parents. If they had ever disagreed with each other, it was not in front of him.

  Because he was an only child he supposed both his father and his mother had spoilt him.

  Together they had given him the idea that because he belonged to them, he was superior to anyone else.

  He had worked very hard at Eton, but he had done so because he wanted to go back to show them the prizes he had
won.

  They had been delighted with the good reports he received and there was no disguising their joy in the way he excelled both at lessons and at games.

  When he had been such a success in the Army, he had always known it was due to his parents.

  He had been brought up to accept that he must be an exceptional person because he was the son of two such exceptional people.

  Sadly they had both died while he was with Wellington’s Army.

  First his mother died one cold winter, when many of his men were suffering from frostbite on the mountains of Portugal, and his father had followed her shortly before Wellington’s brilliant campaign from Spain into France.

  There had been no question of Charles obtaining leave to go home. He could only write to his relatives.

  When his father died too, he felt utterly alone but always hoped that one day, if he was fortunate, he would find someone to take his mother’s place.

  He had been sure he had found that special person in Silver.

  But she had revealed herself as a greedy, grasping snob and had also showed him up as being a bad judge of character.

  Scolding himself for his lapse in judgement, he thought that he should have waited for the real love that he had known when he was a child.

  As he drove along the narrow twisting roads he was ashamed of himself.

  Never again would he be so foolish as to be blinded by a beautiful face.

  Never again would he be tricked into believing that a woman who possessed one also had a beautiful heart.

  Then he recognised that having just made a fool of himself a number of his acquaintances would think it amusing that he had been deceived.

  He had not actually told anyone that he was going to marry Silver, but he knew it was expected, considering they had been together so much in the last few weeks.

  This morning when in White’s, he had said that he was going to the country and he knew that quite a number of the members guessed why.

  They had raised their glasses.

  “Good luck, old man,” they had called.

  He had never anticipated that he might suffer the first big defeat of his life.

  It was simply because the old Duke of Oakenshaw, who had never been particularly interesting, was dying.

  Charles realised that the ambitious Society mothers would welcome him back with open arms, but his enemies would certainly be so delighted that ‘the never never Peer’ had been set down.

  Charles wondered what he should do.

  When he was back in London, no one would believe that he had changed his mind at the last moment and had not asked Silver to be his wife.

  When her engagement to the man about to become the Duke was announced, they would be laughing behind their hands.

  They would all say that for once in his life Charles Lyndon had received his ‘come-uppance’.

  ‘What shall I do?’ Charles asked himself.

  He could of course go home to Lyndon Hall and yet he felt in a sort of twisted reasoning that would be running away.

  He had always instructed his men when they were in battle to face the enemy and fire the first shot.

  It was difficult to think how he could do that now.

  In fact almost impossible.

  Nearing the turn onto the main road to London, he suddenly became aware that one of his horses had slowed down.

  He pulled the team to a standstill.

  His groom guessed at once without being told what was wrong. It was the front horse on the offside.

  He examined it then walked back to his Master.

  “I’m afraid, sir, Raindrop’s lost one of ’is shoes and there may be summit wrong with ’is leg.”

  Charles looked around and just ahead he could see a small village with thatched cottages.

  “Ask if there is a forge anywhere nearby,” he ordered his groom.

  “Very well, sir.”

  He was just about to open a cottage gate when a man came out through the door.

  The groom obviously asked him where there was a forge and he pointed down the road they were on.

  The groom came back to report to Charles.

  “The man tells I, sir, there be no forge in the village, but there be one up at the ’ouse us comes to in about fifty yards further on.”

  “We will go there and if they have the right tools I am sure, Hobson, you can put a shoe on Raindrop’s foot.”

  Hobson did not answer, but merely swung himself into the seat at the back as Charles drove on.

  Through the village and fifty yards further on there was a large iron gate with a lodge on either side.

  Charles realised that this was the house he was seeking and drove up the drive.

  At the end of the drive there was a large attractive house which appeared somewhat dilapidated. There were cracks in many of the windowpanes and tiles missing from the roof.

  The only thing that mattered, Charles thought, was that they had a forge and that it was in working order.

  He pulled the horses up outside the front door and as Hobson took Raindrop’s head, Charles alighted.

  He walked up the steps.

  The front door was open, but there appeared to be no one inside.

  There was no knocker on the door so he banged as loudly as he could with his closed fist.

  After a few seconds there was still no response.

  He was just wondering if he should knock again or go in when a girl appeared.

  At first glance Charles was surprised at how attractive she was.

  In fact her face was more than pretty, it was lovely.

  Then he noticed that her clothes were out-of-date and somewhat shabby.

  She looked surprised, Charles thought, both to see him and the phaeton behind him.

  “I am so sorry to bother you,” he began, “but one of my horses has cast a shoe and we were told in the village that you have a forge.”

  The girl smiled.

  “Yes, of course. Our old groom, who will be in the stables, will show you how to work it. Will you follow me?”

  She walked past him down the steps and motioned to Charles to follow her.

  As they passed the horses, he told Hobson to come too.

  “I can see that your horses are exceptional,” the girl said. “I only hope we have a shoe of the right size.”

  “I am hoping so too.”

  “You must be very proud of your horses,” the girl continued.

  “Today when I brought them down from London, I am sure they set a new record, but I shall certainly have to be more careful on my way back.”

  “Yes, of course you will. Do you enjoy driving that high phaeton? I have never seen such a high one before.”

  “It is something new,” explained Charles, “that has become the rage in London.”

  “It is certainly unusual, but very smart.”

  They had reached the stables and a very old groom came out of one of the doors.

  “This gentleman’s horse, Ben, has lost a shoe,” said the girl, “and I hope we shall be able to find one to fit it.”

  “I’ll ’ave a look, Miss Rania, but as you know us be short of shoes like everythin’ else.”

  The girl did not reply to the groom, but there was a look of anxiety on her face.

  It told Charles things were obviously very difficult for her here.

  Hobson led the horses into the stable yard and they all inspected Raindrop’s foot.

  “I thinks us’ve somethin’ as’ll do,” said Ben.

  The girl turned to Charles.

  “If you would not mind leaving your horses,” she suggested, “perhaps you would like a cup of tea. You are going back to London and it is quite a long way.”

  “You are quite right, I would indeed enjoy a cup of tea, if it is no trouble.”

  “Come with me into the house.”

  As they passed through the front door, Charles said,

  “I heard your groom call you ‘Miss Rania’. That is an unusual name.”

  The girl chuckled.

  “Everyone always makes the same comment. My name has the ancient meaning ‘of Royalty’, which as you can see, is something we are not indulging in at present!”

  She made a gesture with her hands.

  Charles was aware that the garden in the front of the house was unkempt and full of weeds. Brambles were sprouting from the bushes onto all the flowerbeds.

  He did not say anything, but as they walked into the house he realised that it too was in very much the same state.

  Paper was peeling from the walls and the carpets were threadbare.