Seek the Stars Page 4

  Again there was a long uncomfortable silence that made the Earl feel apprehensive and uneasy.

  With an obvious effort the Marquis now said slowly,

  “I will talk to Sadira and, if her wishes prove to be the same as yours, then, of course, I must agree.”

  “Thank you, my Lord! Thank you very much indeed!” the Earl said with an air of affected gaiety.

  He had been afraid ever since he had entered the room that the Marquis would express in no uncertain terms what was uppermost in his mind.

  “Now that you have given me your permission,” the Earl tried to smile, “perhaps I could see Sadira and tell her the good news?”

  The Marquis then walked across to his desk and, picking up a small gold bell, rang it vigorously.

  The door was opened at once and, as the butler appeared, he ordered,

  “Send Lady Sadira to me.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  The two men were alone again and the Earl said conversationally,

  “I hope to have a winner tomorrow at Kempton Park. Will you be attending the Meeting, my Lord?”

  “I don’t know,” the Marquis replied in a tired voice. “I had not expected to be in London for another week.”

  The Earl realised that this was dangerous ground as he might now be told the reason why the Marquis had hurried home at such speed.

  “Well, if you do go,” he said swiftly, “I suggest you put a small amount on Triumph, which I am running in the second race and there is a good chance that I shall be successful in the fourth race with a horse called Lightning.”

  The Marquis did not reply and the Earl went on speaking rapidly,

  “This will be the first time he has been tried out in a big race. I have great faith in him and I would value your opinion after you have seen him run.”

  The Marquis had by now moved back to his desk and he was looking down at something that lay in front of him on his blotter.

  The Earl suspected that it was the detective’s report covering Daphne’s movements while he had been away. And it was this that had brought him hurrying home from France to face his wife.

  The Marquis did not pick up the paper, he merely stared morosely at it.

  As he did so, the door opened and Sadira came into the room.

  As he looked at her, the Earl was astonished.

  He had, in fact, no set idea of what she might look like.

  He had suspected that, if she took after her father, she would be tall, heavily-built and perhaps passably good-looking but not at all outstanding.

  Instead, he saw a slim sylph-like figure.

  As he glanced at her face, he knew that she was completely different in every way from any woman he had seen or met before.

  There was no doubt that she was beautiful and yet there was nothing conventional about her looks.

  Her hair was fair, but of a colour that resembled the rays of the sun when it first rose over the horizon in the morning.

  Her skin had the translucence of a pearl and her eyes were blue, but not the conventional blue of an English beauty. They were the blue of the Madonna’s robe and as brilliant as the Mediterranean Sea. And so especially large that they seemed in fact to dominate her small pointed face.

  There was a sensitivity about her that surprised the Earl.

  And he realised that it was something that he had never seen before.

  As their eyes met, he was aware at once, without her having to say so, that she both hated and despised him.

  Sadira looked away from him towards her father.

  And then she ran to the desk and put her arms round the Marquis’s neck.

  “You are back home. Papa!” she exclaimed. “I have missed you so much. Did you enjoy yourself in Paris?”

  The words seemed to come quite spontaneously to her lips.

  The Earl, however, was immediately aware that she was acting her part as well as he had acted his.

  “I came back,” the Marquis replied to her slowly, “for reasons that we need not discuss. I understand from the Earl of Kensall that he wishes to make you his wife. Do you want to marry him?”

  Sadira forced a smile to her lips.

  “Has he told you the news, Papa? I do hope you are pleased.”

  Listening to her the Earl thought that she had avoided her father’s question rather cleverly.

  “I suppose,” the Marquis said, “if that is what you want, I must give you my blessing and hope that you will both be very happy together.”

  There was an unmistakable note of doubt in the last words, but Sadira ignored it.

  She merely kissed her father again and then said,

  “Dearest Papa, there is a great deal to plan and to talk about, but, if you will allow us to become engaged, there is no need to worry about the Wedding yet.”

  The Marquis rose from his chair.

  “I assume,” he said, “that you wish to celebrate the decision you have made, so I will go and select something that is appropriate to drink your health with.”

  He did not sound at all elated about it and then he went from the room, closing the door somewhat sharply behind him.

  Sadira stood very still, as if she was turned to stone and then she looked at the Earl.

  “I must commend you,” he said, “on playing your part very skilfully.”

  “As I imagine you played yours,” she retorted.

  “There was nothing else we could do,” the Earl said grimly.

  “Nothing,” Sadira agreed.

  She was thinking as she spoke of how her stepmother had diabolically threatened to destroy her beloved horse and her dog.

  She wondered if she had thought up anything so effective but cruel herself or whether the idea had come from the Earl.

  She was not yet a part of the Social world, but she was well aware that for someone in her stepmother’s elevated position to be forced to go through the Divorce Courts was to sink into the gutter.

  Sadira had been very young at the time, but she could remember the endless gossip there had been when the Prince of Wales had been cited as a co-respondent in the scandalous Mordaunt divorce case back in 1870.

  For weeks nobody had talked about anything else and their voices had seemed to grow louder and louder as every titbit of information was relayed and then repeated a thousand times until the newspapers could find something even more sensational for the public to devour.

  The Prince of Wales had defended himself and he had come out of the case officially without a stain on his character.

  But nobody at the time wanted to believe that it was the truth.

  Sadira could well remember her Governess saying to the housekeeper,

  “He’s got away with it, the lucky Prince, but who is going to believe it?”

  She knew that her father must not be involved in a divorce case that would be equally notorious and damaging for all involved especially him.

  It would strike horribly at his pride and the dignity that she had always admired him for.

  She supposed that the same could be said of the Earl and she was well aware that he was spoken of as the most handsome and attractive bachelor in all of Society as well as being the wealthiest.

  Because she was so interested in horses, she had followed his career on the Racecourse with great interest and she knew exactly how many winners he had in his stables.

  She was also sure that her stepmother was wildly and passionately in love with him.

  The Marchioness could not contain her excitement when she was able to see him without her husband being aware of it.

  Sadira was too astute not to realise that there had been other men in her stepmother’s life, but she had never attached much importance to them and they had never lasted very long anyway.

  In fact she was prepared to ignore them as long as they did not interfere with her father’s happiness.

  He did not see the irrepressible radiance in his wife’s face when she knew that he was going away for a few day
s. He might miss it because he was getting old, but Sadira noticed it at once.

  She hated her stepmother and despised her for her infidelity and, when she thought of how she had taken her mother’s place, she wanted to cry.

  Yet, because she was intelligent, she understood that her father needed a woman at his side.

  She had to admit too that her stepmother had made her father happy and, because she was so beautiful, he was proud of her.

  Now Sadira thought of the scenario of herself being married to a man who loved another woman and that woman was none other than her own stepmother.

  It was an utter humiliation that made her feel as if she would never be able to hold up her head again.

  She then walked from behind the desk to stand a little nearer to the Earl.

  She was afraid that anyone outside in the corridor might hear what they were saying. It was certainly not because she wanted to be close to him.

  “I suppose,” she suggested in a low voice, “it is possible for us to remain engaged for some months – and then I could refuse to marry you at the last moment?”

  The Earl did not answer her at first.

  And then at last he said,

  “We could, of course, try it, but I rather fancy that your father, having accepted me as his son-in-law, will insist on our marriage if only to convince himself that the unpleasant report he had commissioned does not tell the true story.”

  Sadira knew exactly what he was saying and she thought in a way that he was more astute than she had expected.

  She knew that her father would find it difficult if not impossible to forget altogether what had made him return to England so precipitately.

  He would therefore be carefully watching them and so any attempt to terminate their engagement would undoubtedly arouse his suspicions.

  He might even then seek to divorce his wife and cite the Earl as the co-respondent.

  It all passed rapidly through her mind.

  As it did so, she realised that the Earl was thinking the same as her.

  “Then what can we – do?” she asked anxiously.

  “Nothing,” the Earl answered.

  “But – there must be – some way out?”

  He shook his head.

  “I doubt it. The detective’s evidence would be very convincing and even now I am quite certain that your father is suspicious that we are not as interested in each other as we are pretending to be.”

  Sadira put her hands up to her face.

  The words that came to her lips were, she knew, so offensive that she dared not say them.

  Instead she sat down at her father’s desk and, without consciously doing so, she unfolded the piece of paper that lay on top of the blotter.

  Only as she looked at it did she realise what it was.

  It was in the form of a diary and there were notes against each day as to what time the Earl had entered the house after dark and what time he had left.

  She looked at it with an expression of disgust on her face and he then realised what she was reading.

  He walked quickly to the desk and picked up the piece of paper and one glance at it told him that his suspicions were correct.

  “There is no reason for you to read this,” he said angrily, “and the sooner it is forgotten the better.”

  “You may be able to forget it,” Sadira answered coldly, “but I assure you it is something I shall never forget – nor will I ever forgive you.”

  “It would be better to try,” the Earl suggested. “Otherwise we have no chance of even attempting to make the best of a bad job.”

  “You can try, my Lord, but I hate and despise you for hurting my father and, of course, for spoiling any chance I may have of happiness in my own life in the future.”

  It did flash through the Earl’s mind that most young women would be perfectly content to marry him whatever his reputation.

  He found it hard to believe that this beautiful girl should be so antagonistic.

  She looked like a piece of Dresden china or as if she had stepped down out of a picture by Botticelli.

  Men of his age were expected to have indulged in numerous love affairs before they led their bride down the aisle and, if she had any inkling of what her bridegroom had done in the past, she would choose to forget it.

  It would be easy to do so in the light of having an unassailable position in Society and in the case of someone like himself of having a great deal of money to spend and magnificent houses to live in.

  But Sadira was looking at him intently with her unusual blue eyes.

  He had the uncomfortable feeling that she was telling the truth and she would neither forget nor forgive.

  “Now, listen to me,” he urged. “We are both aware that this is a very unfortunate situation to find ourselves in – ”

  He stopped a moment before continuing,

  “But if we are sensible, we can start by being friends. I am sure we will find that we have a great number of interests in common, horses for one.”

  Sadira did not answer or move and he went on,

  “You are very young and therefore, like most young women, you see everything in black or white. What we all have to do in life is to accept that there is good and bad in everyone and it is always very much more comfortable to ignore the bad.”

  “You are very plausible, my Lord,” Sadira answered, “and I will certainly consider what you have said. At the same time I find it difficult to make – excuses for the Devil.”

  She spoke softly but clearly and the Earl could not think of an immediate answer.

  Then, before he could do say anything at all, the door opened.

  The Marquis returned, followed by his butler carrying a silver tray with a bottle of champagne on it.

  chapter three

  The Earl put down his empty glass.

  “I have an appointment shortly,” he said, “so I must leave you now. But I will return this afternoon with an engagement ring, which I am certain that Sadira will cherish as my mother cherished hers when she received it from my father.”

  He was hoping as he spoke that he sounded like a man in love.

  Now for the first time there was a faint smile on the Marquis’s lips as he said,

  “If you are coming back here, Kensall, then I suggest you stay for dinner.”

  What that meant flashed through the Earl’s and Sadira’s mind at the same moment. That nothing could be more uncomfortable than to have to dine with the Marchioness.

  Only very quick thinking enabled the Earl to reply,

  ‘It is most kind of you, my Lord, but I am sure you will understand that it is very important that my grandmother should meet Sadira and hear the good news before any other members of my family. And I would like to take Sadira to dine with her this evening.”

  ‘In that case,” the Marquis nodded, “I must withdraw my invitation.”

  He was beginning to look more cheerful and the Earl thought that he was at least three-quarters of the way to being convinced that what they had told him was the truth.

  “I will come to see you tomorrow,” he went on, “but, if you have time this afternoon, please put the announcement of our engagement in The London Gazette and The Times.”

  He stopped speaking to look at the Marquis.

  “I will then notify all the most significant members of the Kensall family during the afternoon,” he concluded.

  “I will do as you suggest,” the Marquis replied, “and, of course, my daughter can help me.”

  The Earl turned to Sadira.

  “Goodbye until this evening and I will call for you at about seven o’clock.”

  “That will be lovely,” Sadira managed to reply with what sounded rather like genuine enthusiasm in her voice.

  The Marquis was watching them and, as the Earl moved towards the door, he said to his daughter,

  “You had better see your young man out, as I suspect that he will want to have a last word alone with you.”

 
“Of course, Papa.”

  Sadira then went out of the study with the Earl, closing the door behind them.

  “That was clever of you,” she said in a low voice.

  “I really do want you to meet my grandmother,” he replied, “and I will send a note to her immediately, telling her that we will be with her at seven-thirty. You will understand that she dines early.”

  “Of course,” Sadira answered.

  They had reached the hall by now where the butler was waiting for them.

  “I will have to hurry,” the Earl said. “It is always a mistake to keep the Prime Minister waiting.”

  “Yes, but tell your coachman to drive carefully,” Sadira cautioned.

  “I will,” the Earl replied.

  He then hurried out through the front door held open by a footman who bowed reverently to him.

  As Sadira walked slowly up the stairs, she felt that they had now convinced everyone, including the servants, of their relationship.

  Then, as she went to her own room, she wondered to herself desperately how she could do this.

  How was it possible for her to marry a man she hated and despised, a man who she knew had no wish to marry her?

  ‘What – can I – do? What can – I do?’ she murmured under her breath.

  Because she did not want under any circumstances to encounter her stepmother, she stayed in her bedroom until luncheontime.

  Then, as she heard the gong being sounded by the butler, she reluctantly went down the stairs.

  Her father and stepmother were just coming from the study.

  “Oh, there, you are, Sadira,” the Marquis said. “I was just relating the good news to your stepmother and, of course, she is delighted.”

  Sadira thought that there was a slight touch of sarcasm in his voice.

  Before she could respond to her father, the Marchioness exclaimed gushingly,

  “Oh, dearest Sadira! What wonderful news! I am so happy for you and I cannot think of anyone who would grace the position of the Countess of Kensall better than yourself.”

  “Thank you,” Sadira replied. “I thought you would be pleased and I know that I am very very lucky.”

  She tried to speak convincingly as if she was a young girl swept off her feet by the first love in her life.