Pure and Untouched Page 2

  “I have given you my heart,” Cleodel replied.

  “It is something which I shall treasure for ever!”

  He had even contemplated writing a poem to her perfections, which he intended to send round to Sedgewick House with a large bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley.

  He thought that particular flower best typified her with its delicacy and the fragrance and there was something very young about it, because it never became full-blown like a rose. He was just finishing his letter when Mr Matthews appeared again.

  “What is it now, Matthews?” the Duke asked.

  “I am sorry to disturb Your Grace again,” Mr. Matthews replied, “but the Dowager Countess of Glastonbury has arrived and I know you will wish to see Her Ladyship.”

  The Duke rose from his desk immediately.

  “Of course! But I had no idea my grandmother was coming to London.”

  Leaving the letter unfinished he walked from the library to the drawing room where his maternal grandmother was waiting to see him.

  Now in her eighties, the Dowager Countess still held herself as straight as a ramrod and it was impossible not to realise that she had been a great beauty in her youth.

  Her hair was dead white, her face was lined, but her features were classical and had remained unchanged.

  When the Duke appeared, she held out her hands with a little cry of delight.

  “Grandmama!” the Duke exclaimed. “I had no idea that you were well enough to come to London. Why did you not let me know?”

  “I did not make up my mind until the last moment,” the Dowager Countess replied. “But when I had an invitation from the Queen to stay at Windsor for the races at Ascot I could not resist accepting it.”

  The Duke having kissed her cheek sat down beside her holding one of her hands in his.

  He looked at her with laughter in his eyes. Then he said,

  “That is a very lame excuse, Grandmama! I have a feeling that the real reason why you have come to London is to look at my future wife.”

  The Dowager chuckled.

  “I confess that is the truth! I could not believe that any young girl would catch ‘Casanova’ after he had resisted every bait and hook cast over him for so many years!”

  “I was a very willing catch.”

  “That is what is impossible to believe!” the Dowager Countess flashed.

  The Duke laughed.

  “Let me say, Grandmama, how delighted I am that you are here and of course you are staying with me.”

  “Of course!” she replied, “I do not know of anybody else with such an attentive staff or another house that is as comfortable as this.”

  “I am flattered indeed.”

  The Dowager Countess looked at him with her eyes that were still shrewd, despite her age.

  “Is it true that you have definitely lost your heart?” she asked him.

  The Duke smiled.

  “Wait until you see Cleodel, then you will understand.”

  “I doubt it,” the Dowager Countess said, “and I think, like all the other women you have loved, I am going to miss the buccaneer who was invincible and the pirate who invariably captured the prize!”

  The Duke’s laughter rang out.

  “Grandmama, you are priceless! Nobody else ever talks to me as you do and in such amusing language. But this pirate has struck his flag and now I am going to settle down to domesticity.”

  “Fiddlesticks!” the Dowager Countess declared. “And you will certainly have to find something to take the place of the women in your life.”

  “That will be Cleodel,” the Duke said. The Dowager Countess did not reply because at that moment servants came in carrying the tea.

  By the time they had set the table with silver and produced every form of delicacy to eat, the Duke was talking not of himself, but of the presents they had received and the places they were to visit on their honeymoon.

  His grandmother listened attentively and she thought, as Harry had done, that it seemed incredible after all the glamorous, brilliant, spectacular women who had attracted him that the Duke should have succumbed to the fascination of a young girl, who, however lovely, had nothing much to offer him except youth.

  If he had been much older, the Dowager Countess thought to herself, she would have been able to say ‘there is no fool like an old fool’, but the Duke was still young, except perhaps by comparison with the girl he was to marry.

  Then she told herself that all that mattered was that he was happy.

  She had always loved ‘Raven’, as he had been called since he was a very small boy, more than her other grandchildren.

  It was his naughtiness which had started almost from the time he was in the cradle that had amused her and, having been brought up herself in the Regency period, she found the prim solemnity of the Victorians extremely boring.

  She had always thought that the Duke would have felt far more at home with George IV and, when she heard him criticised, she excused him for bringing amusement and a sense of adventure to an age that was not only prudish but hypocritical in its outlook.

  One of her other grandchildren had told the Dowager Countess that he was shocked at his cousin’s way of life and his innumerable love affairs, but the Dowager had merely looked him up and down and answered contemptuously,

  “The trouble with you is that you are jealous! If you had the looks or the guts to behave like Raven, you would do so! As it is, you can only grind your teeth and wish you were in his shoes.”

  Because the Duke had so much to say to his grandmother, he did not leave her until she retired to her own room and, because they had been talking until the last moment, he had to dress in a hurry.

  He was dining at Marlborough House and it was only as he was going downstairs resplendent in evening clothes and wearing his decorations that he remembered he had not finished his letter to Cleodel.

  It had been left in the library with his bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley which he had intended to send with it.

  Quickly he hurried to his desk, added to the letter a last expression of his love and put it in an envelope.

  Then, as he picked up the bouquet, which he intended to tell his coachman to leave for Cleodel after taking him to Marlborough House, a thought came to him.

  It brought a smile to his lips and he wondered why he had not thought of it before.

  *

  Carrying the lilies-of-the-valley, the Duke stepped into his carriage and, as he turned towards Marlborough House, he was thinking of Cleodel and how he had been unable to see her all day.

  Yesterday they had met for a brief drive in the Park, then again at a ball, but on neither of these occasions had he been able to kiss her.

  He found himself yearning for her with an intensity that actually surprised him.

  He had kissed so many women and had always felt that one kiss was very much like another, but with Cleodel it was different.

  He thought perhaps it was because, as she was so young and so innocent, she never completely surrendered herself to him.

  Because she was unawakened and perhaps a little fearful there was always a barrier between them.

  It was a barrier that he had every intention of removing as soon as they were married and again he thought how thrilling it would be to awaken her to womanhood.

  ‘I want her! God knows I want her!’ he told himself and he was still thinking of her as the carriage drew up at Marlborough House.

  As he alighted, he said to his footman,

  “I have left some flowers and a note in the carriage. Don’t touch them, but come back in three hours’ time.”

  “Very good, Your Grace.”

  The Duke was greeted by the Prince of Wales and several of his friends and a number of beautiful women who in the past had aroused his interest for a short time.

  As always, the party at Marlborough House was amusing and the conversation glittered and sparkled like a jewel in a crown.

  The Duke had one of his ‘old flames�
� sitting beside him at dinner and almost immediately the meal started she asked him,

  “Is it true, Raven, that you are a reformed character and that your horns are turning white?”

  “Will it surprise you if I tell you that the answer is ‘yes’?” the Duke replied. “I have always heard that a leopard never changes his spots!”

  “You have your metaphors a little mixed, Kitty,” the Duke smiled, “and in this instance you will be wrong.”

  “Nonsense, Raven! And think how bored we shall all be if you take to psalm-singing and supporting waifs and strays.”

  The Duke laughed before he replied,

  “In the past I have usually been accused of contributing to the latter.”

  “That would not surprise me,” Kitty remarked, “and it would certainly be in character.”

  “Now you are being unkind!” the Duke protested. “As far as I know I have no love-children on my conscience.”

  “I am sure that is wistful thinking,” Kitty said, “and what has this paragon to whom you are engaged got that we who have loved you for years have not?”

  “Cleodel is the most adorable person I have ever known.”

  Kitty groaned.

  “That is no consolation when another woman has succeeded where I have failed.”

  They sparred until the meal was over, then, because the Princess was present, there was no gambling and before midnight the guests began to leave.

  “Are you going to win the Gold Cup, Raven?” the Prince asked as the Duke said good night.

  “I hope so, sir.”

  “Dammit! That means my own horse has no chance,” the Prince grumbled.

  “It is always a question of luck, sir.”

  “And yours has never failed you yet, so if you meant to console me there is no point in my listening to you.” Then, because the Prince of Wales was in fact very fond of the Duke, he put his arm through his and walked with him towards the door saying,

  “When you are married, Raven, I cannot lose you, and I want you and your wife to stay at Sandringham for my first shoot.”

  “We shall be very honoured, sir.”

  “Which means that you will mark up the biggest bag,” the Prince said. “I am a fool to ask you!”

  “I will do my best not to be obtrusive, sir,” the Duke replied humbly.

  But both men laughed, knowing that such a thing where the Duke was concerned was impossible.

  He left Marlborough House and told his coachman to carry him to Green Street.

  When the carriage stopped, he climbed out, carrying the lilies-of-the-valley and the note for Cleodel.

  “Go home,” he said to the footman. “I will walk from here.”

  The man was at first surprised and then amused, but many years of training prevented him from showing what he felt and he managed to keep his expression impersonal until he was back on the box and the horses were moving away.

  The Duke waited until his conveyance was out of sight, then he walked down a mews which brought him to the back of Sedgewick House.

  He knew that behind the Green Street houses there was quite a large garden in which he had often sat out when there were dances and invariably kissed his partners in discreet little arbours or in the shelter of a leafy tree.

  There was a door from the garden into the mews, but this was locked and each householder kept a key of it. The Duke was extremely athletic and the exercise he took riding, fencing and boxing kept him in the peak of condition.

  Despite being slightly constricted by his tight-fitting evening-coat, he swung himself lithely up on to the top of the wall which bordered the Mews and dropped down on the other side.

  He thought with satisfaction that he had not even mussed his trousers in doing so and now he moved through the shrubs that hid this part of the garden from the green lawn and saw Sedgewick House directly ahead of him.

  It was the last house on the street and rather different from the others being older and more rambling.

  On the ground floor there was a dining room, a rather ugly elongated room, an attractive drawing room with three French windows that opened onto the garden and beyond that the small sitting room where he had sometimes been allowed to be alone with Cleodel.

  Above this was her bedroom with a balcony that was matched by one at the other end of the house where her mother slept.

  The Duke had actually teased her about the balcony, saying that one night, like Romeo, he would serenade her from the garden.

  Cleodel had looked at him apprehensively.

  “If you did that,” she had said, “Mama would hear you and she would think it was an – extremely improper way to – behave!”

  “Perhaps,” the Duke agreed, “but very romantic, my darling, and that is what you make me feel.”

  Cleodel had looked up at him from under her long eyelashes.

  “I like you to be romantic,” she said, “like a Knight in a Fairy story who fights a dragon for me.” “Of course,” the Duke agreed, “and you know I would slay all the dragons, however ferocious they might be.”

  “That is how I want you to feel,” Cleodel had said softly.

  The Duke thought now that it would seem very romantic to Cleodel when tomorrow morning she found the bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley and his note on her balcony.

  He knew from the way the house was built that he would not find it difficult to climb up the wall of the sitting room and pull himself up on to the balcony so that he could leave the flowers where he wished them to be.

  He thought it would be difficult for any woman not to appreciate the trouble he had taken in pleasing her and he knew if he had done anything like this in the past the lady in question would not only have been thrilled by his attention but would undoubtedly have invited him in.

  He found himself wondering if it would be too outrageous if, having reached the balcony, he called and wakened Cleodel who would be asleep.

  He was certain any apprehension she had about her mother overhearing them was unnecessary.

  The Countess was slightly deaf and the two bedrooms were separated by the whole width of the house so that, even if he shouted at Cleodel, she would be unlikely to hear him.

  The Duke walked through the shrubs holding his bouquet carefully and, by the light of the stars and a young moon climbing up the sky, he saw the house ahead clearly.

  Then he stopped dead.

  For a moment he thought it must be an illusion, a trick of the light.

  But he soon saw unmistakably that there was a man climbing up a ladder which was propped up against the side of the balcony.

  The top of the ladder just reached the bottom of the stone balustrade with which the balcony was surrounded.

  Because of the way it was placed, the man was sideways to the Duke and slightly in shadow.

  He supposed it was a burglar who intended to rob Cleodel and it flashed through his mind that nothing could be more fortunate than that he should have come here at this very moment to prevent such an outrage.

  Moreover it would give him the opportunity of proving he was in fact a Knight protecting the woman he loved against a very unpleasant dragon.

  Then, as he moved quietly forward, he became aware that the burglar was in evening dress, which seemed strange and, as the man reached the top of the ladder and pulled himself up on to the stone balustrade, the Duke could see his face.

  Once again he stopped abruptly, unable to believe his eyes.

  The man he thought was a burglar was in fact a friend, a member of his Club, and only last evening, when they were having a drink together, Jimmy Hudson had lifted his glass.

  “Good luck, Raven!” he had said, “and may you always be as successful as you are today!”

  The Duke had thanked him and now, as he watched Jimmy throwing his leg over the balcony, he felt he must be dreaming.

  Then, through the bedroom window, came somebody in white. It was Cleodel and the Duke was sure that she would be appalled and shocked by Jimmy’s i
ntrusion.

  He waited for her to scream and then he decided he would appear and tell Jimmy what he thought of him and make him sorry he had ever attempted to do anything so outrageous.

  Then, as he planned to climb the ladder to confront Jimmy unless he retreated at once before Cleodel’s wrath, he saw that they were suddenly and unexpectedly clasped in each other’s arms.

  Cleodel’s face was lifted to Jimmy’s and he was kissing her, kissing her passionately in a way that he had been unable to do himself, because of her protests and because he was afraid of frightening her.

  Their kiss took a long time, while the Duke stood as if turned to stone, unable to breathe.

  Then, almost reluctantly, as it seemed to him, Cleodel moved from Jimmy’s arms and put out her hand to draw him into the darkness of her bedroom.

  As she did so, she smiled and the moonlight seemed to light her face with a sudden radiance that made her appear even more beautiful than he had ever seen her before.

  Then the balcony was empty and there was only the ladder standing at one side of it to make the Duke quite certain of what he had seen and what she had just done.

  Chapter 2

  For what seemed to him a very long time, although it can have been only a few minutes, the Duke stood staring at the empty balcony and as he did so, like a puzzle falling into place, he saw how he had been deceived and tricked.

  The Duke was not only extremely intelligent, but he had a very retentive memory.

  It had stood him in good stead both at Eton and at Oxford where he had found that by doing only the minimum amount of work he could win prizes and awards.

  Now, seeing his past flash before his eyes as if through a magic lantern, he saw Jimmy Hudson telling him when they were staying at Warwick Castle that the Earl of Sedgewick had good horses and he was borrowing one to ride in the local steeplechase.

  “Be a good friend, Raven and don’t enter for it,” he begged. “I want to win.”

  The Duke had smiled.

  “What is the prize?” he enquired.

  “A thousand pounds, a silver cup and a pulsating young heart,” Jimmy replied blithely.

  The Duke had laughed and agreed not to enter the steeplechase, knowing that while the ‘pulsating young heart’ might be an allurement, the one thousand pounds was far more important to Jimmy.