The Duke Is Deceived Read online

  “That would be disastrous!” the Dowager agreed. “Apart from anything else, if it reached the ears of the Queen, she would be extremely angry.”

  The Marquis made a helpless gesture with his hand.

  “Then what can I do, Grandmama? That is why I came to you. You have never failed me when I have been in a scrape from the time I was in the nursery until you saved me from being sent down at Oxford.”

  The Dowager laughed again.

  “That is true and, of course, I must save you now. But, whatever happens, no one must ever know what has occurred, so it has to be – ”

  She stopped.

  “ – Penelope!” she exclaimed. “When your Greek friends are staying in England, Penelope could be your ‘fiancée’ for the two nights they are staying with you at Charnwood Court!”

  Ursa gave a little gasp, but before she could say anything the Marquis exclaimed,

  “But of course! If she will do it, Penelope would be the perfect person.”

  He turned to Penelope.

  “There is no reason why Orestes should ever have heard of you, let alone seen you. He has not been in England for ten years and I know that Uncle Arthur has never been to Greece since he married! What do you say?”

  “B-but – but – ” Ursa murmured, “what would I have – to do?”

  “As little as possible,” the Marquis answered. “You just have to look beautiful and when I introduce you as my fiancée, which, of course, we have not yet formally announced, there will be nothing Orestes can say except ‘congratulations!’”

  “I-I am afraid I might – do something wrong,” Ursa stammered in a small voice.

  It struck her, however, that if she was acting one part she should be able to act two.

  “Don’t worry, dearest child,” the Dowager said. “I will be with you. At least I hope my grandson is extending the invitation to me. I would not miss this exciting drama for anything in the world!”

  “Of course you are coming with me,” the Marquis agreed. “You will be able to talk to Orestes in his own language and make it quite clear, sad though it is, that you will not have a Greek granddaughter.”

  “I-I suppose it is – all right,” Ursa murmured nervously.

  She was really speaking to herself.

  Then the Marquis stepped forward and took her hand.

  “I know I am asking a great deal of you,” he said in a deep voice, “but I should be very very grateful for your help in saving me from what I know would be a disastrous marriage.”

  As he finished speaking, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Thank you so much!” he muttered. “I am very grateful.”

  As his lips touched her skin, Ursa felt a little quiver go through her.

  She thought it was one of fear.

  The Marquis then picked up the bottle of champagne.

  There were two other glasses on the tray and he filled all three of them.

  “Now” he said, “I am going to drink to the brilliance of my grandmother and the kindness and understanding of my other very beautiful relative.”

  He raised his glass and he was looking at Ursa as he did so.

  Once again she felt that little quiver run through her.

  Once again the colour was rising in her cheeks.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When morning came, Ursa hurried down for breakfast.

  She found that the Marquis had finished and had gone out to the stables.

  It did not surprise her.

  She was certain that he would be as efficient in regard to his horses as her father had always been.

  She had just finished eating when she heard the Dowager talking to her maid as she led her downstairs.

  She had breakfasted in her own room and Ursa ran out to greet her in the hall.

  As she did so, the Marquis came in through the front door.

  “Good morning, Grandmama!” he greeted her. “I do hope it’s not too tiring for you to get up so early.”

  “Not at all!” the Dowager replied. “I am looking forward to the drive and being at Charnwood Court again.”

  The Marquis kissed her cheek.

  “You are wonderful,” he said, “and you know how important you are to me.”

  He paused before he went on,

  “Because I want to be ahead of you to welcome you when you arrive, I am riding over on one of your best horses.”

  “Riding?” the Dowager exclaimed.

  “Yes, Grandmama, and you and Penelope will go in the travelling carriage I arrived in. My coachman is a good driver, although he will take a little longer to get back to Charnwood than I did to come here.”

  “It sounds delightful!” the Dowager said.

  To Ursa’s surprise, as the Marquis drew his grandmother into the drawing room, he said to her,

  “Come with us.”

  When they were inside he closed the door before he said,

  “We should decide before we leave what to call Penelope.”

  “I have been thinking about that,” the Dowager replied. “In order to avoid any confusion I suggest it would make things easier if she uses the name of her younger sister.”

  “Her sister?” the Marquis exclaimed. “I did not know she had one.”

  “Matthew Hollington has two daughters, Penelope, who is the elder, and Ursa.”

  She smiled before she added,

  “‘Ursa’ also is Greek and it means ‘Nymph of the Sea’. What could be more appropriate, Guy, when all this is about Battleships?”

  The Marquis chuckled.

  “That is true and, of course, it is perfect for my fiancée to have a Greek name, although I am not certain Orestes will appreciate that.”

  Because what he said sounded funny Ursa laughed.

  She thought that nothing could be more ridiculous than that she would be now reverting to being herself for Mr. Orestes, while still pretending to be Penelope to the Marquis and his grandmother.

  “That is settled then,” the Marquis said, “and the sooner you set off the better! I promise that, although your luncheon will be late, it will be a good one.”

  “Thank you, dearest boy,” the Dowager replied, “and don’t worry about me. I assure you I feel twenty years younger because something exciting is happening!”

  As they walked through the hall, Ursa thought that it was certainly true.

  Her father had always said that it was a great mistake for a man or woman to retire too early.

  “They then sit about doing nothing,” he had added, “until they die. It is better to keep not only our bodies but also our brains fully occupied.”

  The travelling carriage that the Marquis had arrived in was a spectacular vehicle and extremely comfortable.

  It was drawn by four horses that were perfectly matched.

  The elderly coachman on the box raised his cockaded hat as Ursa and the Dowager climbed in.

  Behind them was a brake into which the luggage was being loaded by the footmen.

  Ursa could also see Marie and Martha, the Dowager’s maid, sitting inside it.

  She had told Marie while she was dressing what was happening.

  That still posing as Penelope she must now pretend to Mr. Orestes to be her sister, Ursa, and the fiancée of the Marquis.

  Being French, Marie accepted the situation without surprise or consternation.

  “I am sure that, as my sister has never been to Charnwood Court,” Ursa added, “we need not worry about the staff there.”

  “Not while I have been with her, my Lady,” Marie answered. “Voila! Now I must go back to calling you ‘m’mselle’ instead of ‘my Lady’!”

  “I am quite used to that,” Ursa replied.

  As they drove off, she said to the Dowager,

  “This is certainly an adventure and it will be so interesting to see Charnwood Court.”

  “It is a very beautiful house,” the Dowager said, “and has been in the Charn family for generations. Guy is only the
third Marquis, but the Charns go back to Elizabethan times and the Earldom is a very old one.”

  They went a little further before the Dowager said,

  “As you have never met Guy before, I suspect Arthur has not told you about him.”

  “No – he has – not,” Ursa replied.

  She wondered what there was to tell.

  She was afraid that she might make a mistake about what Penelope would know about him.

  “Then I think I should tell you,” the Dowager said, “that he is not really my grandson.”

  Ursa turned her head to look at the Dowager in surprise.

  “Not your grandson?” she queried, “but – he calls you ‘Grandmama’.”

  “Yes, I know,” the Dowager agreed, “and we don’t usually bother to make explanations to people. But, of course, as you are one of the family, it is different.”

  “Then – why is he not your grandson?” Ursa asked.

  The Dowager settled herself more comfortably in her padded seat before she answered,

  “He is to be exact, my step-grandson. My first child after I married was Arthur. It was some years later that I had a daughter who I Christened ‘Charlotte’.”

  “Such a pretty name,” Ursa murmured.

  “She was very pretty,” the Dowager went on, “but she married a man much older than herself, who was the Marquis of Charnwood.”

  She smiled as she continued,

  “He was, as you can imagine, a very attractive handsome man, but he had been married before.”

  Ursa was listening intently as the Dowager went on,

  “It had been an arranged marriage and I gather not a very happy one. His wife died of pneumonia when their son was only a year old.”

  Ursa was beginning to understand what had happened, but she did not say anything.

  “Guy was seven when his father married Charlotte. He had been brought up by various relatives and was thrilled to have a real home. He adored Charlotte and soon called her ‘Mama’, as if she was really his mother.”

  “And did not your daughter have any children of her own?” Ursa asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the Dowager replied. “She had three daughters, but the eldest was not born until they had been married for four years. This was somewhat of a disappointment, but in any case, Guy was the rightful heir to the title.”

  “And – are the daughters – grown up?” Ursa asked nervously.

  She was thinking that perhaps Penelope had met them and if they were at Charnwood they would be suspicious of her.

  Although, of course, she was now Ursa.

  They would not know unless they were told that she had been pretending to be her sister.

  “They are still at school, but the eldest will make her debut next year,” the Dowager was saying.

  Ursa gave a little sigh of relief knowing that she had nothing to fear from the Marquis’s half-sisters.

  At the same time she thought it was sad that he had never known his own mother.

  “I have always thought,” the Dowager said quietly, “that Arthur has somewhat resented Guy adopting me as his grandmother, but he was not happy as a small boy and I have always loved him.”

  “That does not surprise me,” Ursa replied, “because he is so good-looking.”

  She thought again that she had never seen a man who was so handsome.

  She wished that she could see him on a horse because she was sure that was how he would look his best.

  “And where is your daughter now?” Ursa asked.

  She was suddenly afraid that she might be at Charnwood Court.

  “She is in Somerset,” the Dowager replied, “in a house where she has lived since her husband died. Guy often goes to see her, but I think that since Charlotte has children of her own, he really feels more at home with me.”

  The travelling carriage was now moving very fast, which made it difficult for them to talk.

  After a while the Dowager closed her eyes and appeared to be asleep.

  It was then that Ursa could think about herself.

  Nothing, she thought, could be more exciting than what was taking place.

  ‘If I don’t make any mistakes,’ she told herself, ‘it will be something to remember all my life as an adventure greater than any I had on my journeys with Papa!’

  *

  The travelling carriage turned in at a pair of very fine wrought-iron gates at exactly twenty minutes past one o’clock.

  There was a long drive up to the house with huge oak trees on either side of it.

  Then Ursa saw Charnwood Court for the first time and gave a little cry of delight.

  She might have known, she thought, that it would be exactly the right frame and background for the Marquis.

  It was very large and the central block of the building had a tower on which was flying the Marquis’s flag.

  On either side were two wings, which looked as if they had subsequently been added, but in harmony with the original.

  It stood on high ground and below it lay a lake on which, as they crossed the bridge, Ursa saw a number of swans.

  The gardens around the house were ablaze with colour and the green lawns that sloped down to the lake were like velvet.

  ‘It is a Palace,’ she thought, ‘fit for Prince Charming, who is naturally the Marquis himself!’

  He was waiting for them at the top of the steps that led to the main entrance.

  When the travelling carriage came to a standstill, he ran down the red carpet to open the carriage door before a footman could do so.

  “Welcome to Charnwood Court, Grandmama!” he called out. “I cannot tell you how delighted I am to have you here again.”

  “And I am so thrilled to be here, dear boy,” the Dowager said.

  The Marquis helped her out of the carriage and then smiled at Ursa as she followed him.

  “It is marvellous to see you again, Ursa!” he said.

  He raised his voice a little so that the footman, who had hurried down the steps after him would hear.

  “I too am – thrilled to be – here,” Ursa managed to say.

  The Marquis led the Dowager up the steps and into what Ursa saw was a magnificent hall.

  There was a crystal and bronze staircase and opposite it a huge marble fireplace on each side of which hung flags.

  Ursa guessed they were those that the Charns had collected in battles over the centuries.

  The Marquis guided the Dowager into a very large and exquisitely furnished room.

  Ursa thought that it must be the drawing room.

  Later she learned that there was an even larger reception room in another part of the house.

  There was a bottle of champagne cooling on ice and a housemaid to help them off with their travelling clothes.

  “I thought that you would not wish to go upstairs straight away after such a long journey,” the Marquis said, “but if you wish to take off your hats, which I am sure you do, there is a room opening out of this one, where there are plenty of mirrors to admire yourselves in!”

  The Dowager laughed.

  “I remember that, Guy, and always thought it very convenient.”

  She and Ursa went into the room he indicated, washed their hands and took off their hats.

  “Now I feel more comfortable,” the Dowager said, “and it is like Guy to think of everything.”

  “He is certainly very considerate,” Ursa agreed, “and I hope we shall have a delicious luncheon, for quite frankly I am very hungry!”

  The Dowager laughed.

  “When I last came to Charnwood, I put on pounds in weight because the food was so appetising!”

  “That is a very comforting thought at the moment,” Ursa replied.

  The food was indeed delicious and served in the most impressive dining room that Ursa had ever seen.

  There was a Minstrels’ Gallery at one end and on the walls were magnificent portraits of the Marquis’s ancestors.

  She thought that, sitting at th
e head of the table, he resembled many of them.

  In fact he was even more handsome than those who had been painted by Van Dyck.

  Because she was genuinely curious, the Marquis told her quite a lot about the pictures and finished by saying,

  “I must show you the Picture Gallery. My father’s hobby was to collect paintings from all over the world. As a small boy I felt as if I had visited Venice and many parts of the East simply because I had looked so often at the pictures illustrating them and heard them described to me by my Governess.”

  “That was what my father did to me,” Ursa said.

  Just in time she prevented herself from adding that she had visited many of the places he had mentioned with her father.

  She was not aware that the Marquis was surprised at how knowledgeable she was about the artists he was speaking of.

  He was finding also that he could talk to her about the places he had visited and know that she was really interested in what he was saying.

  She was not just pretending to be, as so many other women had done to him in the past.

  After luncheon he insisted that his grandmother should go upstairs and rest.

  “I have ascertained that Orestes, coming by train, should be here at about four o’clock,” he said. “That is when you will have to help me, Grandmama, so I hope that you will try to sleep before it is time to come down.”

  “I don’t intend to argue on that subject,” the Dowager smiled. “I will simply do as I am told!”

  The Marquis guided her upstairs.

  When they had gone, Ursa had time to inspect the room where they had been before luncheon.

  There were some delightful pictures on the walls and also a collection of snuffboxes, which she knew, must be very valuable.

  She was gazing at a fine Rembrandt when the Marquis came back.

  “We now have a short time to enjoy ourselves in before the drama begins,” he stated. “What would you like to do?”

  “There is so much I want to see,” Ursa replied. “And, as I am so afraid of missing something important, I am hesitating between the Picture Gallery and the stables.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “That is exactly the answer I would have given myself in the circumstances. If we hurry we may be able to do both, so let’s start with the stables.”