Love for Sale Page 2

  But he had never imagined for one moment that any woman would sink to the methods she was employing now to force him to marry her or show herself in her true colours in a way that left him disgusted and increasingly apprehensive.

  How could he contemplate accepting as a wife, a virago, a woman with so few morals that she was prepared to foist on him another man’s child, a man for whom the Duke had no liking and less respect?

  Sir Charles Nazeby was a total waster, a man who lived on his wits and who the Duke suspected, although he had no evidence to substantiate it, was not above cheating at cards.

  That any child of his, if it was a boy, would one day become the Duke of Oswestry was a possibility that the Duke was determined to oppose whatever the cost.

  He was, although he never spoke about it, exceedingly proud that his family all through history had served the Monarchy and the country to the best of their abilities.

  The family name was Westry and there had been Westrys who had been great Statesmen, Westrys who had been extremely gallant on the field of battle and Westrys who had sailed away to explore the world.

  They had always commanded the respect and admiration of their contemporaries and the Duke was determined that he would not defame their memory.

  He thought now that he should have married and bred a son before he became involved with Lady Marlene, but he had wanted his marriage to be different.

  Because he knew how many of his personal friends were unhappy or at least bored with the wives who had been chosen for them by their parents, he had fought to remain single.

  He told anybody who had urged him to walk up the aisle that he had decided to remain a bachelor.

  He had always thought to himself that there was plenty of time for him to do later what was obviously his duty when he no longer enjoyed his freedom as much as he did now.

  It was not only that he so much liked running his houses and his vast possessions without any interference from a woman, but he was honest enough to admit that he enjoyed being able to pick and choose from among the beautiful women who offered him their favours only too eagerly.

  He was not particularly conceited, but he was well aware that every beauty in the Beau Monde considered it a feather in her cap if he became her lover.

  It was pleasant to know that unlike Lady Marlene the majority of them remained friends and were exceedingly fond of him after their liaison was over.

  Many, it was true, had broken hearts, or so they averred, but the Duke thought cynically that few hearts were permanently damaged by love and the wounds, if there were any, soon healed.

  But now out of the blue when he least expected it, Marlene Kelston was menacing him in a way he had never been menaced before in his life.

  Because everything about the situation was intolerable, he had suddenly risen from the card table and, without making any explanation, had left the Club abruptly.

  He did not even hear his friends calling after him,

  “Randolph, you have forgotten your winnings!”

  Only after he had gone without replying, did they look at each other and ask,

  “What has happened to Oswestry? I have never known him behave so strangely.”

  “It must be a woman,” someone suggested.

  There was laughter at this, but it was incredulous.

  “A woman?” was the reply. “Have you ever known Oswestry worry over a woman when he only has to lift his finger to have a hundred crowding round him?”

  “That is true enough,” another man exclaimed, “and dammit, with his looks and money, he ruins the market.”

  As the carriage drove down Berkeley Street into Berkeley Square, the Duke felt as if he was turning a treadmill round and round in his mind and never getting any further.

  It was the same question that presented itself over and over again and he could only find one answer and that was that there was nothing he could do!

  He was scowling in a manner that made the footman who opened the door of the carriage as it drew up outside Oswestry House look at him apprehensively.

  His Grace was home early, which was most unusual, and inevitably when something was wrong the staff, most of whom had been with the Duke for many years, were aware of it.

  Another footman had hurriedly run the red carpet across the pavement and the butler was standing in the open doorway as the Duke stepped out of his carriage.

  The servants bowed their heads as he passed them.

  Then, as he reached the two steps to the front door, there was a sudden cry and a woman came running along the pavement to fling herself against the Duke and holding onto him and shouting as she did so,

  “Save – me! Save – me!”

  She spoke frantically and, as the Duke then turned towards her in surprise, he saw a very young face looking up at him and two eyes dark with fear.

  “Save me!” she cried again. “Help me please – they are trying to – catch me!”

  The butler then moved hastily to the Duke’s side and took the woman by the arm.

  “That’s quite enough of that,” he said. “Be off with you! We don’t want any of your sort here.”

  As he spoke, the stalwart young footman who had set down the carpet went to the other side of the woman.

  “Leave this to us, Your Grace,” the butler urged.

  As he spoke, he pulled the woman backwards and, as if she realised that he intended to remove her, she gave another cry.

  “Please – please – I was – told it was – Lord Julius Westry’s carriage – but I am sure – that was a lie – ”

  By this time the butler and the footman had already dragged her several feet from the Duke and he had moved onto the first step leading up to the front door.

  Now he looked back to ask sharply,

  “Who did you say?”

  “Help me – please – help me!”

  The woman was now sobbing out the words.

  “Leave her alone,” the Duke ordered.

  As the butler and the footman took their hands from her arms, she ran forward again, her eyes misty with tears and looking up at the Duke to add,

  “They – they are – trying to catch – me!”

  The Duke looked to where in the darkness of the square he could see two men standing irresolute, as if they had checked their pursuit of their victim when they saw who she was speaking to.

  “You mentioned a name just now,” the Duke said. “Will you repeat it to me?”

  “Lord – Julius – Westry – told me he had – employment for – me.”

  The Duke stared at her as if he wanted to be certain that she was speaking the truth.

  Then he suggested,

  “Come into the house and you can tell me exactly what has happened to you.”

  The woman glanced over her shoulder and, as if she too could see the two men in the distance, she shuddered and ran quickly up the steps after the Duke who had already reached the hall.

  He handed his evening cloak, his high hat and his cane to a footman and then he walked across the marble floor.

  She followed him and, as another footman opened a door, they entered the library.

  It was a large very impressive room with windows looking onto a garden at the back of the house.

  Now the curtains were closed and the light from the candles showed books arranged in fine Chippendale cases, a large writing table in the centre of the room under a painted ceiling, a sofa and two wing-backed armchairs in front of a fireplace.

  The Duke walked to stand with his back to the mantelshelf to inspect his visitor.

  He saw that she was small and very young and, he then told himself with considerable surprise, unexpectedly lovely.

  She had very large eyes in a heart-shaped face and her hair under her plain unfashionable bonnet was the colour of ripening corn. Her eyes surprisingly were not blue but, unless he was mistaken, the grey of a wintry sea.

  She was looking at him apprehensively and the terror was still in her expression and he saw that she was trembling.

  “Come and sit down,” he invited her quietly.

  As if his voice had reassured her, she moved gracefully towards one of the wing-backed chairs and sat down on the edge of it, her hands in her lap.

  He knew that her clothes were somewhat old-fashioned and, although in good taste, were of inexpensive material.

  He was sure from what he had heard of her voice that she was educated and there was a refinement about her that told him she was of gentle birth.

  He walked to the grog tray which stood in a corner of the room.

  “I think, as you have been through an unpleasant experience,” he said, “that you need a drink. Would you prefer champagne or lemonade?”

  “I-I would like a – glass of lemonade – if you please.”

  The Duke thought, as he poured it out, it was a choice that he would never have offered to the usual women who sat in this room.

  There was something so young about this girl that he had the feeling that she had seldom, if ever, drunk wine.

  “Thank you – very much,” she said as he handed her the glass.

  He realised as she took it, that her hand was shaking, but he admired the way that she was keeping control over herself.

  As he thought that he would seem less frightening, he sat down on a chair opposite her.

  “Now tell me what has upset you,” he asked her, “and what Lord Julius Westry has to do with it.”

  The girl set her glass down on a table beside her chair and, clasping her hands together as she did so, answered him,

  “I feel first – sir – I should – apologise for imposing myself upon you – but I was so – frightened – and all I could think of was – trying to escape from the carriage that had – met me at the
– Posting inn at Islington.”

  The Duke was aware that this was where the stagecoaches arrived from the North.

  “I am glad that I was able to help you,” he replied. “But you had better tell me exactly what happened so that I can ensure that you are not recaptured when you leave here if that is what is frightening you.”

  The girl drew in her breath and the Duke saw that once again she was terrified.

  “D-do you – think they might – wait for me?”

  “Who are they?”

  “There were two men – one was on the b-box of the carriage – the other was – I think a servant of the – house that I was – taken to.”

  “Which house was that?”

  “I-I think it was – Number 27 Hay Hill.”

  The Duke started.

  “Are you sure that is where you were going?”

  “When Lord – Julius wrote to me, he said there would be a – carriage to meet me at Islington – but he did not say – where I was to go. It was only when I read the leaflet – that I guessed and I was – very – very afraid!”

  The Duke smiled.

  “It sounds rather complicated,” he said. “Suppose we start at the beginning and first you tell me your name?”

  “It is – Udela Hayward.”

  “And where do you live, Miss Hayward?”

  “Just outside Huntingdon. My father was the Vicar of Little Storton.”

  “You say ‘was’. Is he dead?”

  Udela nodded.

  “He – died three weeks ago.”

  There was a little sob in her voice, but she went on bravely,

  “It was after he died that I – realised I had to – find employment of some sort. Then I met Lord Eldridge.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  Udela, as she spoke, could see so clearly the morning when she had picked almost every flower that was in bloom in the Vicarage garden to take to the Cemetery.

  Her father had loved flowers and she had thought that perhaps both he and her mother would look down from Heaven and see how well she had arranged them on their grave.

  The roses on her mother’s favourite rosebush were only just in bud, but she picked them thinking that, if she put them in water, they would open and become a patch of the vivid pink that always reminded her of her mother.

  It was the colour of happiness, Udela thought, the happiness that had flown away when first her mother had fled and now her father had left her too.

  She was walking from the Vicarage along the dusty lane that led to the churchyard when she became aware of two riders coming towards her.

  She first noticed their horses because they were especially fine and her father had taught her to appreciate the good points of a horse and to ride well, as he did himself.

  Udela had never had the chance of riding the type of horse she was seeing now and only as they drew level with her did she realise that one of the riders was the young Squire, Lord Eldridge, who her father had never approved of.

  She, however, curtseyed politely and he had drawn his horse to a standstill to say,

  “Good morning, Miss Hayward. I was sorry to hear when I returned home from London that your father had died.”

  “It was – very sudden – my Lord.”

  “My Agent informs me,” Lord Eldridge went on, “that I now have to choose somebody to replace him, but I will not force you to leave the Vicarage until you are ready to do so.”

  “That is very – kind of your Lordship. I have been wondering where I could go.”

  “You have relatives, I suppose?” Lord Eldridge asked lightly.

  He was a red-faced young man who had disappointed his father by being sent down from Oxford University and whose only ambition had seemed to be to spend his money on riotous living.

  Once he had succeeded to the title, the parties that had taken place at Eldridge Park had all the village whispering in shocked tones and Udela had thought it not surprising that the Eldridge family pew remained empty Sunday after Sunday.

  But she felt now that Lord Eldridge was being kind and her voice was grateful as she answered him,

  “None, my Lord, but I will find – somewhere I can go as soon as I have tidied up – everything at the Vicarage.”

  “That is all right then.”

  Lord Eldridge would have ridden on, but his companion piped up,

  “Introduce me, Edward. Perhaps I can help this pretty young lady.”

  Lord Eldridge looked at him in surprise.

  Then he said,

  “Miss Hayward – let me introduce Lord Julius Westry to you, who wishes to make your acquaintance.”

  Udela curtseyed again and Lord Julius, to his friend’s surprise, dismounted from his horse and, leading it by the bridle, walked to her side.

  “I heard you say, Miss Hayward, that you have to find employment. Have you a place in mind?”

  “No – I have not, my Lord,” Udela replied, “except perhaps to be a Governess – I am very fond of children.”

  “You do look rather young for a post of that sort,” Lord Julius remarked. “How old are you?”

  “I am eighteen, my Lord.”

  She looked at him as he spoke and thought that there was something about him that she did not like.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered, but his eyes were too close together and it gave his face, which otherwise might have been quite good-looking, a somewhat sinister expression.

  “I think that I might be able to help you,” he was saying. “Don’t commit yourself to any particular position until you hear from me.”

  His eyes seemed to flicker over her taking in, she thought a little shyly, not only her face but her figure too.

  She was suddenly conscious that her cotton gown, which she had had for some years and had been washed many times, was rather tight and, because of the way that Lord Julius was scrutinising her, she felt the colour rise in her cheeks.

  “Thank – you, my Lord.”

  “Wait for my letter,” he said and it was a command.

  Udela curtseyed to him and then again to Lord Eldridge.

  Only as she hurried away with her flowers into the Churchyard was she conscious of a desire that she could not explain to run and keep on running.

  *

  As Lord Julius had told her to wait for his letter, she had not written as she had intended, to a Domestic Bureau that she knew existed in Huntingdon.

  She was not certain what she should say or in what capacity she should offer herself.

  There were, as she knew only too well, only two types of employment open for a lady – that of Governess or a companion and she had the uncomfortable feeling that Lord Julius was right when he had said that she was too young to be a Governess.

  ‘I could look after very small children,’ Udela pondered.

  She wished, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, that she looked older and not so very young.

  She was frightened of the future, but she would have been still more frightened if she had overheard what Lord Julius had said as, having mounted his horse, he rode away down the dusty lane.

  “How could I expect, Edward,” he said to Lord Eldridge, “to find such a beauty hidden here in your village?”

  “She is rather pretty,” Lord Eldridge admitted.

  “Pretty!” Lord Julius exclaimed. “Dressed in style, and Mother Crawley knows how to dress them, she will be a sensation!”

  “So that is what you have in mind,” Lord Eldridge exclaimed.

  “But of course!” Lord Julius replied. “I am always on the look-out for suitable material, but it is not often I hit the ‘jackpot’ as I believe I have this morning!”

  They rode on for a few minutes in silence.

  Then Lord Eldridge said,

  “Poor little devil! I am sorry for her, but then I suppose there is no alternative.”

  Chapter Two

  Udela took a little sip of the lemonade and, as she set the glass down very carefully on the table again, the Duke said,

  “So you then waited for a letter from Lord Julius. Surely it was rather strange for you to expect to be offered a position by a man you had only met once?”

  Udela’s eyelashes flickered as if she was shy and she replied in a low voice,

  “To be honest, sir, I expected that he would – forget and so I did try to find a – position locally.”

  “How did you do that?” the Duke asked.