The Odious Duke Read online

  Giles drew the Licence from his pocket and the “Evil Genius” took it from him.

  “Go and sit in the front pew,” he said, “you must keep out of sight. Anyone passing by might see you and think it strange if you were outside the Church!”

  He turned as he spoke and walked up the aisle. The Captain and Verena followed him.

  The Church had rounded Norman arches and a lovely stained-glass window over the Altar.

  At the top of the aisle Verena entered a big carved oak pew and sank on her knees.

  ‘Help me, Oh, God, help me. If it is ‒ possible, save me – if not, God, let me die bravely, without screaming, without crying and without showing that I am afraid.’

  She thought of Hickson and shuddered. She had never been able to forget that smooth and sanctimonious face and its hard glittering eyes. She could remember the chuckle he had given when, before he left the cellar, he had looked down at the Duke lying unconscious from the blow that he had inflicted on him.

  Hickson would have absolutely no compunction in killing her, she knew only too well.

  And then she was praying again.

  The Church was very quiet. The only sound was of Giles breathing and the noises he made as he fidgeted beside her. Verena felt that the faith of generations was there in the Church to sustain her. It was almost like a cool hand laid comfortingly on her brow.

  Yet deep inside herself she was still desperately afraid, afraid not so much of dying, as of being afraid.

  “How the devil can they be so long?” Giles moaned.

  But it was another five minutes before Jasper Royd re-appeared, the Vicar beside him. They approached the pew and Verena and Giles rose to their feet.

  “Is this the young couple?” the Vicar quavered.

  He was an old man, very old, with dead white hair and veined hands that trembled and eyes that had difficulty in seeing.

  “Mr. Royd tells me you wish to be married,” he said. “Is that right?”

  “If you please, sir,” Giles answered.

  “They have very little time, Vicar, as I have already told you,” the “Evil Genius” interposed. “If they are to catch the ship from Dover, they must leave almost immediately!”

  “Very good, my boy, it shall be as you wish,” the Vicar said. “It seems only yesterday that you were a child coming to me at the Vicarage asking me to help you with your Latin in the holidays. Ah well, we all get old.”

  Muttering to himself, the old man disappeared into the Vestry.

  “Damned old fool!” the “Evil Genius” whispered beneath his breath.

  They all waited holding their breath, as it seemed to Verena, until the Vicar came into the Chancel wearing a white surplice, a Prayer Book in his hand.

  “What about the ring?” Giles asked suddenly.

  The “Evil Genius” gave him a look of contemptuous disdain.

  “Do you mean you had not thought of that?” he asked.

  He drew his signet ring from his finger as he spoke.

  “Come along,” he said sharply. “Get in front of the doddering old clodhead!”

  Giles stepped out of the pew and Verena followed him.

  The “Evil Genius” stood beside them.

  For one moment Verena was tempted to scream out the truth and to cry that she would not marry a thief, a murderer and a felon, but she well knew that Jasper Royd had not spoken idly when he had said that he would kill the Vicar.

  She had known as she sat next to him in the curricle that in the pocket of his driving coat there was a pistol. She had felt it against her side.

  He would not hesitate to use it, although she suspected, so that the blame would not fall on him, he would choose a better and more subtle way of killing the old man.

  The Vicar was so ancient and decrepit that, if he was merely flung violently to the ground, there was every chance of it killing him.

  ‘No,’ she thought, ‘I can say nothing.’

  The Marriage Service began.

  The Vicar was slow but his cultured voice seemed to echo round the tiny Church as he read out the prayers and the introduction to the Service.

  Then addressing Giles, he began,

  “Say after me, ‘I, Giles Rupert’.”

  “I, Giles Rupert,” Giles echoed.

  “Take thee, Verena.”

  “Take thee, Verena.”

  “To my wedded wife.”

  “To my wedded wife.”

  Verena closed her eyes.

  There was no escape. She was not to be rescued and she was being married to this criminal.

  Even if she was murdered within a few hours of the Ceremony, the idea of becoming her cousin’s wife was a humiliation and a degradation beyond expression.

  It seemed to Verena that Giles’s voice speaking the words after the Vicar was very far away.

  Then it was her turn.

  “Say after me,” the old Clergyman addressed her,

  “I, Verena – ”

  For a moment Verena’s voice seemed constricted in her throat. She could not speak, she could not force the words between her lips.

  At last, almost in a whisper, she began,

  “I, Verena – ”

  There were hurried footsteps in the porch, then from the back of the Church came a loud voice,

  “Stop!”

  She turned as her heart leapt and, with an almost inexpressible joy she saw the Duke standing at the end of the aisle.

  “Stop this mockery,” he demanded. “I will not permit it!”

  “He has found us! We must get away, we must escape!” Giles cried, his voice shrill and hysterical. “It was not my fault, Jasper made me do it!”

  There was a sudden explosion of a shot with a deafening report!

  Verena, turning back from seeing the Duke advance towards them, she saw Giles crumple and fall to the ground and a smoking pistol in the “Evil Genius’s” hand.

  For a moment she could only stare, shocked to immobility. Then she saw Jasper Royd draw another pistol from the pocket of his coat, transfer it to his right hand and looked towards the Duke.

  “If I must face a trial,” he snarled, “I will be tried by my Peers.”

  He was next bringing the pistol down on his target when Verena, realising what he was about, flung herself against him.

  She forced his hand upwards as he pulled the trigger and the shot passed harmlessly over the Duke’s head.

  A second or two later, Harry Sheraton, coming through the Vestry door, shot the “Evil Genius” dead!

  He fell straight over Verena, who was still clutching his arm, pulling her down with him. But, even as she reached the ground, she felt herself caught up in a pair of strong arms and she knew that she was at last safe.

  For the moment she must have lost consciousness for, when she was aware of what was happening, she felt the sunshine on her face and the breeze on her hair.

  Someone was holding her very tightly and, because she was afraid it was but an illusion after the nightmare that she had passed through, she reached up her hand to clutch at the lapel of the Duke’s coat.

  “It is all right, my brave darling,” he said quietly, “you are safe.”

  She heard the click of the lych-gate as he pushed it open.

  Then something soft and warm nuzzled against her cheek.

  “Assaye!” she murmured and then opened her eyes.

  “Yes, Assaye,” the Duke told her, “he led us here. Without Assaye I would never have found you!”

  “We must – thank him,” she murmured childishly.

  “Of course we will,” he answered.

  The Duke stepped into the curricle waiting outside the gate and set Verena very gently on the seat. Her bonnet had fallen from her head and was caught only by its ribbons at her neck. He undid them and let the bonnet fall on the floor of the curricle.

  Then he threw the boy holding the horses a coin and looked towards the groom holding Salamanca and another horse in the shade of a pink May tree.


  “Wait for Captain Sheraton,” he ordered and, taking up the reins, drove away from the Church.

  Verena lay back against the cushions with her eyes closed. She felt as if she were still half-unconscious and as if she could not realise what had happened except that she was now safe and that her prayers had been answered.

  Giles was dead! She did not have to marry him, she did not have to keep her promise. He was dead and she was free.

  The Duke was now driving the horses down the road, and then she realised as they turned that they had entered the main drive to The Castle and were in the shadow of the lime trees.

  The Duke drove for a little distance and then took the horses off the drive and onto the grass verge. He drew them to a standstill and threw down the reins.

  The horses, not being fine spirited bloodstock like those he drove, immediately dropped their heads to the grass. Assaye, who had followed the curricle, did the same.

  The Duke turned round in his seat and putting both his arms round Verena, drew her close to him.

  “Once again, Elf, I have to thank you,” he said softly, “for saving my life.”

  She gave a shudder and hid her head against his shoulder.

  “I – thought he – was going – to kill you,” she whispered.

  “How could you have been so crazy as to follow them?” the Duke asked. “I realised that was what you had done when Assaye came home without you. My courageous sweetheart, they might have hurt you!”

  “They intended to – kill me,” she answered. “I was to – marry Giles, we were then to travel to The King’s Head where – Hickson is waiting – I would have had what you would have been called ‘an accident’ and then – Giles could inherit the title and estate.”

  “My God!” the Duke exclaimed, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe. “It is all my fault, Verena, you should never have been involved. Everything was planned for tomorrow. A fake consignment of Bullion to Dover, soldiers hiding in the coach instead of the usual guards and the arrest of Jasper and your cousin Giles in the old Mill.”

  “You knew then?” Verena asked.

  “I saw your face, my darling, when Jasper walked into the drawing room,” he answered. “Why, my foolish little love, did you not trust me?”

  “I thought – it might – embarrass you,” Verena faltered.

  “Jasper’s perfidy could never embarrass me. I was only desperately afraid for your safety. I knew how ruthless he would be if he guessed that you knew his secret!”

  “But you asked him and – Giles to – stay at The Castle?”

  “I wanted them here under my eye and I wanted you beside me,” the Duke answered. “I also had an idea that the old Mill was too convenient a place of hiding for them to ignore it. And Harry arranged everything else with his Colonel and the Officials at the Bank of England.”

  The Duke paused and then he said,

  “But I will never forgive myself, nor can Harry excuse himself, for overlooking the fact that a genuine movement of Bullion must have left the Bank this morning for another town. It was only when Assaye led us to the Mill that we realised what had happened.”

  “It was for – Canterbury,” Verena answered.

  “So, it was through my sheer stupidity I endangered your precious life,” the Duke exclaimed.

  “I was afraid,” she said, her face still hidden in his shoulder, “afraid that you would not – come in time to – save me!”

  “If he had married you,” the Duke said firmly, “I would have killed him before he could touch you.”

  “He was not – interested in me. He just wanted – the estate – a Winchcombe of Winchcombe – that is what he wished to be.”

  “Forget him,” the Duke asserted. “It’s all over now.”

  His hand smoothed the silky softness of her hair.

  “Why did you follow them alone?” he asked softly.

  “The – Princess – is – so b-beautiful – ” Verena stammered.

  “I thought that she might be the reason for your leaving the room,” the Duke answered, “but, my adorable Elf, there was no reason for you to be ever jealous of anyone! Do you not realise that I love you, my dearest heart? As far as I am concerned, there is no other woman in the world.”

  He drew her closer to him.

  “How soon will you marry me?” he asked. “I am afraid for you to be away from me even for one moment.”

  Verena raised her head.

  He saw the wonder in her eyes and then, with a little inarticulate cry, she hid her face again.

  “I – cannot,” she whispered. “I cannot – marry you – I love you far too – but you must realise – you must know – that I cannot – possibly be a – Duchess!”

  There was an expression of tenderness in the Duke’s eyes that no one had ever seen before.

  Then, with a little smile on his lips, he said,

  “But, of course, not and what a bad Duchess you would make! No air of consequence, no dignity, no completely icy way in setting down an impertinence as you would brush a caterpillar from your salad!”

  He felt Verena give a little choke of laughter and he continued,

  “The Duke, of course, agrees that such an unsuitable match would be unthinkable! But there is a simple soldier, Verena, who finds you are the only person in the world who can talk to him of elves and goblins, of sprites and dragons.”

  She quivered.

  “Oh, Leopard,” she next whispered.

  Then after a moment she asked hesitatingly,

  “Could I not – just be with you – without having to marry – ”

  Her voice trailed away into silence.

  “While deeply honoured by such a suggestion,” he replied, his eyes twinkling, “I would, of course, have to ask for the permission of your Guardian.”

  “My Guardian – ?” Verena questioned. “But that is – you!”

  “And, as your Guardian, Miss Winchcombe,” the Duke said, “I must state firmly and categorically that I would never give my permission for an arrangement so certain to outrage the sensibilities of the Social world – except perhaps those of my Grandmama!”

  Verena gave a strangled laugh and then murmured,

  “But it is the – Social world – that makes me so afraid.”

  “I want you to answer me something truthfully,” the Duke said. “If I was poverty-stricken without a prospect of bettering my circumstances, would you marry me?”

  “But of course!” Verena replied instantly.

  “And if I was a man of no account – a nonentity?”

  “You don’t suppose that would matter to me?” she asked.

  The Duke sighed.

  “It is very mortifying, Elf, to find out that, after all we have been through together, you don’t love me!”

  “But I do!” Verena cried. “I do love you – more – much more – than I can ever – tell you.”

  “Then, my foolish and ridiculous little goose,” the Duke answered, holding her closer to him, “why are we arguing about such trifles as rank and wealth, consequence and Ceremony? We have, my darling, the only thing in life that really matters.”

  He felt her stir against him and very gently he put his fingers under her chin and raised her face to his.

  “I cannot live without you, Elf,” he said softly.

  For a moment they gazed into each other’s eyes. He felt her tremble and knew that her heart was beating as violently as his.

  Then his arms tightened and very slowly, as if he must savour the moment, his lips sought hers.

  It was a kiss just as soft as the touch of a butterfly’s wing and yet Verena felt as if he lifted her high in the sky towards the sun.

  The world was forgotten.

  They were one, a man and woman caught up in a sublime ecstasy, untrammelled and free – so beautiful, so spiritual, that it was part of the Divine.

  “I love you!” the Duke exclaimed hoarsely. “God, how I love you!”

  “I love –
you – too,” Verena whispered.

  His lips sought hers again. He had not known that a woman’s lips could be so soft, so sweet or so innocent.

  As he felt her quiver in his arms, as he knew that she responded to the pressure of his mouth, his kisses grew more insistent, possessive and passionate –

  After a long time their lips parted, but they looked again into each other’s eyes and were spellbound by an enchantment so lovely that their faces were transfigured.

  “My darling, my sweet, my little love – my Elf,” the Duke said at length and his voice was unsteady.

  “Leopard! Leopard!” she whispered.

  He held her close until at last with a sigh of utter happiness he said,

  “Shall I tell you, dearest dear, what I have planned for us both?”

  “Will I have to – talk to the Magistrates on what has – happened?” Verena asked.

  “That is what I am determined to avoid,” he answered, “and that is why, my beloved sweetheart, I intend that we shall be married tomorrow morning immediately a Special Licence arrives from London.”

  “Tomorrow – morning?” Verena questioned wide-eyed.

  “We will be married in my private Chapel by my own Chaplain,” he said, “and then while Harry goes to London to face all the explanations and congratulations regarding the death of the Bullion robbers, you and I will leave discretely for the coast. My yacht is waiting in Dover Harbour. We will cross the English Channel and start our honeymoon in Belgium.”

  He knew as a tremor ran through her that she was very excited at the idea.

  “I thought,” the Duke continued, “we would take with us not only my travelling carriage but Salamanca and Assaye as well. I would like to ride with you over the field of Waterloo. You could then see where your grandfather, your father and I fought.”

  “Could we – really – do that?” Verena asked.

  “We can and we will,” he replied. “And then, my sweet dream, I intend to take you to Venice, a town devoted to love and lovers. When we return the nine-day wonder that will follow the discovery and death of the Bullion robbers will have been forgotten.”

  “It sounds wonderful!” Verena cried. “So wonderful that I feel I must be dreaming! But you are sure – ”