A Very Special Love Page 6

  *

  The Marquis learnt next morning that the Convent had at first been for older women who had nowhere else to go.

  Then it had been more or less appropriated by Father Proteus, who realised rapidly that he was on to a good thing.

  His friends had moved in and, because the old Priest was too ill to argue with them and the Mother Superior was very frail, they had simply taken possession of the house. And there had been no one with enough standing or determination to prevent them from doing so.

  “After that had happened,” the Chief Constable related, who had arrived at the same time as the Lord Lieutenant, “your Lordship will understand that unless somebody complained, there was no reason for me to interfere with what on the surface appeared to be a pious Religious Institution.”

  “I do understand that,” the Marquis replied, “but now something has to be done about it.”

  “Of course it must,” the Lord Lieutenant agreed.

  He was a distinguished Peer whom the Marquis had met before at Windsor Castle.

  When he learnt what had occurred, he insisted that they should take immediate steps against Father Proteus.

  The Chief Constable took a long statement from Zia and she gave him useful information about the Convent and the way it was run.

  Then, because the Marquis was in a hurry to get away, both the Lord Lieutenant and the Chief Constable promised that, when they had investigated further, they would send a report to the Marquis in London.

  “You will understand that I shall be very curious,” the Marquis said. “At the same time I should be grateful if you would try to ensure that my Ward’s name is not brought into any public statements.”

  He looked at the Lord Lieutenant as he spoke who answered at once,

  “I understand your concern, Okehampton, and I will do all that I can to prevent anything appearing in the newspapers.”

  The Marquis thanked him and, as soon as the two gentlemen had left, he told the Captain to put to sea immediately.

  “The whole problem is now out of our hands,” he said to Zia, “and so we can relax and enjoy ourselves.”

  “It is very kind of you to be so concerned about ‒ Sister Martha.”

  The Marquis had said that, if Sister Martha was in any distress, the Chief Constable was to arrange for her to travel to London and she could stay at Oke House until her future was settled.

  “I will, of course, pay all the expenses,” the Marquis added, “and also the expenses of somebody to travel with her so that she will not be alone on the train.”

  Now he turned to Zia,

  “We must always remember that, if Sister Martha had not been brave enough to allay Father Proteus’s suspicions, you would not be here now.”

  “I will give her anything she wants,” Zia said positively. “She is really my responsibility, my Lord, not yours!”

  “We will not quarrel over her,” the Marquis smiled, “and I think we will both see that Sister Martha is very much happier in the future than she has been in the past.”

  “If only we could only change her face, the poor thing,” Zia said. “She always talks of herself as being ugly and I know it worries her.”

  “I expect, unless she wants to go on being a nun, pretty gowns and her hair arranged in a more attractive fashion would make all the difference,” the Marquis remarked.

  “We could certainly try,” Zia answered, “and it will be like having a handicapped child to look after.”

  They both laughed at the idea.

  Then to speak of a child made the Marquis remember Yasmin and her assertion that he had given her a baby.

  Once again the anger he had felt at being deceived and threatened by her swept over him.

  As it did so, Zia exclaimed,

  “W-what have I – said wrong? What has – upset you?”

  She sounded so worried that the Marquis replied quickly,

  “It has nothing to do with you just something I remembered that has made me angry.”

  Then, as still she looked at him with worried eyes, he asked her,

  “How can you be aware of what I am thinking? I have often congratulated myself on being perceptive, but it is not something I expected to find in you, Zia.”

  “I think it is something I have – always had,” Zia answered, “in fact I could often read Papa’s thoughts before he had put them into words. Mama told me that it is because we have Celtic blood in our veins.”

  “As your Guardian,” the Marquis said with mock seriousness, “I forbid you to read my thoughts! They are often not suitable for a well-bred young lady to know about.”

  Zia laughed.

  “Now you are making me curious, my Lord, and I shall try harder than ever to find out exactly what you are thinking.”

  “Am I to believe that you are defying me?” the Marquis enquired. “In which case I shall take a very strict line in seeing that you obey my orders!”

  Zia laughed again.

  “If I am too young to be perceptive, you are certainly too young to be a Guardian! They are usually old with grey hair and come in the same category as grandfathers!”

  “That is how you should think of me,” the Marquis commented.

  She gave him a mischievous smile that he thought was particularly attractive before she replied,

  “Now you are trying to frighten me and, as I refuse, now I am free, to be frightened any more, you will have to think of a better way to keep me in order.”

  He found that, as the day progressed, Zia seemed carefree for the first time.

  She teased him and had what he could only describe as a joie de vivre that made them both laugh a great deal.

  The hours seemed to pass more quickly than he could have imagined possible.

  *

  He had decided that they would stay the night in a quiet harbour and reach Folkestone early the following morning when they would take the train to London.

  Then he realised that he was enjoying himself more than he had thought possible and had no desire to go back to London too quickly.

  He therefore told his Captain to sail on round the coast and move up the Thames as he had often done before to disembark at Westminster.

  “I am glad that is what you have decided to do,” Zia said when he told her. “I love being at sea and it is so delightful to be with you, my Lord, because you make me think ‒ of Papa.”

  The Marquis thought with a twist of his lips that, when he was with most women, he did not in any way remind them of their fathers.

  Despite the fact that Zia was laughing with him as if he was a contemporary, he was aware that she did not think of him, as any other woman would have done, as an attractive man.

  He supposed it was because she was so young and, as he had already found, completely innocent of the world.

  The strange thing was that while there were none of the double entendres that were so much part of the conversations he had with the beauties who he and Harry pursued, he found her interesting and intelligent.

  When he thought about it, he had to admit that he had not been bored for one moment since they had been together.

  He knew that, when Yasmin or any of his previous loves had been alone with him in the yacht, every word they spoke was flirtatious and every look of their eyes would hold an invitation.

  It would have been impossible for him to be with them for any length of time without holding them in his arms, kissing them and eventually taking them below to his cabin.

  But it clearly had never entered Zia’s mind that she should try to attract him as a woman.

  When they went to their separate cabins before dinner, the Marquis changed first and was waiting in the Saloon for Zia to appear.

  The yacht was anchored in a small bay where there was shelter from the wind as well as any rough movement of the sea.

  The Stewards had not yet turned on the lights in the Saloon, but there were candles on the table, which made the dinner laid for two seem very romantic. />
  The Marquis always looked particularly magnificent in evening clothes and, as he waited for Zia, he gazed out through the porthole knowing that the stars would soon begin to twinkle overhead.

  It was a warm evening and he thought that any other woman who was with him would be waiting for the moment when they would both go out onto the deck that would be flooded by starlight.

  She would look up at him and her long neck and profile silhouetted against the darkness would be alluring and very seductive.

  Every movement would be an invitation for him to put his arms around her. Then his lips would hold her captive and he would kiss her until they were both breathless.

  He then became aware of the sound of light footsteps coming up the companionway and a second later Zia was in the Saloon.

  “Look at me in my finery!” she exclaimed.

  She spread out her arms sideways as she spoke and twirled round so that the Marquis could see the movement of her full skirt and the little cascading frill running round the hem.

  Her shoulders were bare and her waist seemed to be even smaller than it had during the daytime.

  Her gown was of a very pale green, the colour of the early buds in the spring.

  With the candlelight picking out the red in her hair, she looked, the Marquis thought, like a sprite who must have come from the waves.

  There was something ethereal about her and at the same time it was as if she moved to music.

  “I must certainly congratulate the Captain,” the Marquis said. “His taste is impeccable!”

  “That is what I thought,” Zia agreed, “and I must now show him how smart I look.”

  She did not wait for the Marquis to reply, but went out of the Saloon and onto the deck. Then he heard her running forward towards the bridge.

  He could not help smiling as he followed her.

  He was thinking that none of the beauties who he and Harry had found so alluring would think that the Captain’s opinion of their appearance of any importance.

  On the other hand they would undoubtedly expect a eulogy from him.

  ‘I must not spoil her,’ the Marquis told himself as he reached the bridge.

  “I am glad you are pleased, Miss Langley,” he heard the Captain say. “In fact my wife always asks my advice before she buys a new gown.”

  “Then you can tell her that his Lordship thinks your taste is impeccable,” Zia answered, “and I think really you ought to come and advise me when I reach Bond Street!”

  The Captain laughed.

  “I’m a much better judge of ships than I am of gowns, Miss Langley, and this is one of the finest ships I’ve ever handled.”

  “Now I am receiving the compliments!” the Marquis remarked as he joined them.

  “And quite rightly,” Zia enthused. “The Unicorn is magnificent!”

  As they moved back towards the Saloon, the Marquis could not help wondering whether she thought that the owner of it was magnificent too.

  He was so used to compliments from any woman he was interested in that he now found, although he admitted it was ridiculous, that he missed them when they were not there.

  When they sat down to dinner, Zia found the food as excellent as it had been the night before and quickly forgot about her appearance as once again they were talking of the old days.

  “Perhaps I shall not be – with you,” she said a little wistfully, “but if I am – and you hold a Steeplechase – would you allow me to ride in it?”

  “Certainly not!” the Marquis asserted. “Steeplechases are not for women, but, if I do arrange a Point-to-Point, which I usually do sometime in the summer, then I will introduce a ‘Ladies’ Race’ that you can compete in.”

  Zia regarded him quizzically for a moment before she said,

  “As Papa’s daughter, if you will lend me one of your Lordship’s superb horses, I would much rather race you.”

  “And you really think you might win?” the Marquis asked.

  He expected her to say that was impossible, but she would like to try.

  Instead after a moment she replied,

  “I think I might have a sporting chance if you allowed me to choose the horse I would want to ride and ‒ then to get to know it well before the race.”

  The Marquis raised his eyebrows and she explained,

  “Papa said that, while horses love racing, it is always right to talk to them about what is happening and also, if they are used to their rider, they know what he expects of them and will want to please him.”

  The Marquis wanted to say that she was just being imaginative.

  Then he remembered how the Colonel had said very much the same thing to his young Subalterns before they competed in the many Regimental races when the Household Brigade always distinguished themselves.

  “What I am saying,” Zia went on, “is that if I can talk to my horse and let him know that he is to beat yours, perhaps we shall pass the Winning Post ‒ ahead of you.”

  “I think you are using magic,” the Marquis said, “and that is distinctly a contravention of all the rules of the game!”

  Zia merely chuckled.

  “If I have the chance to show you what I mean,” she said, “you will understand.”

  The Marquis, as it happened, did understand.

  He had never before met a woman who knew the secrets that were used by the gypsies and by the jockeys, who were most successful in the races that they rode in.

  When it was time to go to bed, he admitted that he had enjoyed himself a great deal and was also more certain than ever that Zia would be a great success in London.

  ‘She is original, she is unusual and very lovely!’ he murmured to himself.

  He decided that he would tell his grandmother that he would give a ball for her at Oke House in London and another one at Oke Castle.

  ‘No girl could ask for more,’ he told himself, ‘and by the time she is dressed better than any other debutante, she will quickly capture some distinguished young aristocrat and I shall have done my duty nobly as her father and mother would expect me to do.’

  Then, as he attempted to think who amongst the young men he knew would be the most suitable as Zia’s husband, he found himself discarding first one and then another.

  They might be ‘blue-blooded’, they might have distinguished names and important titles to inherit.

  But, when he thought them over, they did not seem to qualify for anybody as unusual or as lovely and ethereal as Zia.

  He knew that with her large fortune, she could most certainly pick and choose.

  But it was unthinkable to imagine her married for instance to a certain young Peer of his acquaintance who did nothing but pursue actresses and pretty ‘Cyprians’ as he had done ever since he had left his school.

  Two other young Noblemen were, to the Marquis’s certain knowledge, keeping ‘Pretty Horse-Breakers’ in smart Villas in St. John’s Wood.

  From the conversations that he had had with Zia, he knew that she had no knowledge of what were called ‘other interests’ in a man’s life.

  And she would undoubtedly be extremely shocked when she learned about them.

  There was something very pure and innocent in her large blue eyes.

  As the same time they held a certain mystery that the Marquis was aware was something spiritual and not what was usually associated with the word where it concerned a woman.

  ‘Damn it all!’ he exclaimed to himself. ‘There must be some decent man about, a man who would be faithful to a wife if she was like Zia.’

  Then he found himself wondering if in the future she would become like Yasmin and all the other beauties who had given him their favours over the years.

  He knew that, when he had dined in another man’s house in his absence, eaten his food and drunk his finest wines and then enjoyed himself with his wife, he had always felt slightly ashamed.

  To him it was almost like picking someone’s pocket.

  Yet it was all part of the Social worl
d that he moved in.

  He more or less accepted it that, if a husband did not look after his wife or had ‘other interests’, there was no reason why she should remain faithful to him.

  And yet, he told himself firmly, it was what he would expect of his own wife.

  Then, he thought cynically, that he was asking too much.

  How could he be sure if he was away from home for even one night that his wife would not have a lover creeping up his stairs and into his bed?

  Because he felt almost tormented by the idea, he threw off the bedclothes and went to one of the portholes in his cabin.

  He pulled back the curtains and saw the stars filling the great arc of the sky with their light reflected in the sea below them.

  It was very beautiful and very romantic.

  The Marquis gazed out of the porthole for a long time and then went back to bed saying violently to himself beneath his breath,

  ‘All women are unfaithful, treacherous and deceitful! I will never marry!”

  Chapter Four

  The Unicorn reached London and anchored alongside the Embankment above London Bridge.

  Thanks to the Marquis’s usual efficient arrangements, his carriage drawn by two horses was waiting for them and he took Zia ashore.

  She thanked the Captain very prettily for the voyage, saying how much she had enjoyed herself.

  When they drove off, she said with a lilt in her voice,

  “This is very – very – exciting!”

  “I hope you will enjoy yourself in London,” the Marquis said, “and I want to show you my Castle in Sussex as well.”

  She smiled at him.

  “And, of course, my Lord, I am longing to see your horses.”

  The Marquis was wondering if he should include her in the party that he was giving next weekend.

  As Yasmin would not be present, there would be an empty place, but he then realised that it was not the type of party that he should take a debutante to.

  ‘I will leave her in London with my grandmother,’ he decided, ‘and she can come to The Castle the week after.’

  When they arrived at Oke House in Park Lane, he could see that Zia was impressed by the majesty of the mansion and, when she entered, by the furniture and pictures.