Born of Love Page 6
She was thinking about the Duc when Sardos asked sharply,
“Why are you here? Someone told me that you were not expected.”
“I am afraid I am a gatecrasher,” Marcia answered. “The Duc had invited my father to come and see his horses and, as he particularly wanted me to travel with him, I came at the last moment.”
She saw as she spoke that Sardos was frowning.
“You have not met my uncle before?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“But, of course, I have heard about him and his horses.”
“I suppose you know,” Sardos said, “that my relations are all of them trying to persuade him to marry again. Do you think of yourself in the role of his bride?”
He spoke so rudely that Marcia looked at him in surprise.
Then she answered quietly,
“I can assure you that I have no intention of marrying the Duc or, for that matter, anyone else.”
She thought that the expression in Sardos’s eyes cleared a little.
At the same time she sensed that he was still suspicious, as he looked down the table at the Duc and then back at her.
“I have a feeling,” he said after a moment, “that the Comtesse is at the bottom of this.”
“The bottom of what?” Marcia asked lightly. “If you are trying to make a drama out of my appearance, all I can tell you is that I intend to travel back to England with my father when he is ready to go as free and unfettered as I am at the moment.”
“But of course,” Sardos said as if he was reasoning it out for himself, “you would be a very suitable bride for Uncle Armond.”
“I heard, although I may have been misinformed,” Marcia replied, “that he has no wish to marry anyone.”
“That is what he has said,” Sardos replied. “At the same time he will be forced eventually to produce an heir and that, of course, means less money will be available for relations like myself.”
Marcia remembered what had been said about him, but she answered somewhat mockingly,
“No one round this table looks as though they are poverty-stricken.”
“Looks are deceptive,” Sardos snapped. “If you want the truth, I am on the point of being taken to prison for debts I cannot meet.”
“I cannot believe that the Duc would allow that to happen,” Marcia smiled.
“That is what I hope,” Sardos said. “But he is mean and extremely cheese-paring where I am concerned.”
He almost spat out his words.
Marcia was wondering what to say when the gentleman on her other side complained,
“You are neglecting me, Lady Marcia.”
She turned to smile at him.
“Then that is something I must remedy at once. Suppose you tell me what is your particular interest.”
“I have two,” the man replied. “One is the excellent wines that come from my host’s vineyards in the valley. The second is my horses, which I believe are the reason that you have come here with your father.”
“You are quite right,” Marcia replied. “I am looking forward more than I can possibly say to seeing them tomorrow.”
It was exciting to talk about horses and for the moment Marcia forgot about Sardos.
Then, when dinner was coming to an end, he said to her in a low voice,
“If you mean what you say and have no wish to be incarcerated here for the rest of your life, you must be careful. My relatives are all determined to fetter you to my uncle.”
“I think you are talking nonsense,” Marcia answered.
At the same time there was a note in Sardos’s voice that made her shiver.
She thought, as she had at the first moment she met him, that there was something not only sinister about him but almost evil.
She was glad when everyone had left the dining room.
As was the custom in France, the gentlemen did not stay behind as in England.
Everyone went into the salon and there were card tables arranged for those who wished to play.
An accomplished pianist was sitting at the piano playing soft music that was just a background for the conversation.
Nothing, Marcia thought, could be more delightful.
Yet, as she watched the Comtesse look round, she had the feeling that it was all arranged for one purpose and one purpose only.
That was to bind her and the Duc together as man and wife.
CHAPTER FOUR
Having arranged for everybody to be seated at the card tables, the Comtesse realised that the Earl was sitting alone at the far end of the salon.
She walked towards him, saying as she reached him,
“Don’t get up. I presume you do not wish to play cards.”
“I would much rather talk to you,” the Earl replied.
“That is what I have been hoping for,” the Comtesse answered.
They sat down on the sofa and she said in her soft voice,
“It was so kind of you to come. I have been so desperately worried and could not think who I could turn to. Then I remembered you.”
“I am flattered,” the Earl answered. “But I don’t like you to be upset or worried. You have always seemed to me to be such a serene person.”
“That is what I try to be,” the Comtesse replied, “but things are difficult and I am very very worried about Armond.”
“About his not marrying?” the Earl asked.
“That is the beginning of it,” the Comtesse said, “and it is why I asked you to bring your exquisite daughter here with you.”
The Earl was about to say that Marcia too was being difficult about being married.
Then he thought that it would be a mistake.
He would listen first to what the Comtesse had to say.
She was looking so worried that he was quite certain that it was somewhat worse than he had thought.
In her late forties the Comtesse was still a beautiful woman.
She was very young when she married and her husband had been much older than herself and the Earl had often thought that they were ill-matched because of the difference in age.
When the Comtesse became a widow, he had hoped that she would marry again.
But from what he had learnt from the letters that passed between them that she was devoting herself to her nephew, the Duc.
As he had no wife, she acted as his hostess.
Now, as he saw the anxiety in her eyes, he put his hand over hers.
“You know,” he said, “that I will help you in any way I can and, because we are such old friends, you must allow me to call you ‘Yvonne’, as my wife did.”
“That is what I would like,” the Comtesse replied, “and thank you, Lionel, for being a tower of strength.”
“It is what I hope to be,” the Earl smiled, “but you have not yet told me what is amiss.”
The Comtesse glanced towards the card players as if to make sure that they could not be overheard.
Then she said,
“I think you may have guessed that it is Sardos who is at the bottom of the trouble.”
“I am not surprised,” the Earl replied. “He is a very tiresome young man and always has been!”
“Far more than tiresome!” the Comtesse said. “He is spending so much money that not only Armond but all our relatives are in a frantic state because, believe it or not, if he goes on like this he will impoverish the estate.”
The Earl looked at her in surprise.
“I can hardly imagine that is possible,” he remarked, “considering that the Duc is known to be one of the richest men in France.”
“He has a great estate and a wonderful château with, as you know, many exquisite treasures in it,” the Comtesse replied. “But with regard to money, he spreads it fairly and generously amongst us all.”
She sighed before she went on,
“Sardos, however, has had much more than his share and his mother’s combined.”
“That is disgraceful,” the Earl exclaimed. “I hop
e that your nephew has remonstrated with him very forcefully.”
“The last time he was here,” the Comtesse said, “Armond told him that if he came begging again he would give him nothing. Sardos must starve rather than deprive the rest of the family of what is our right.”
“And I suppose you are telling me that once again he is in debt,” the Earl said slowly.
“It is much worse than that.”
“How?” the Earl enquired.
“I have friends in Paris,” the Comtesse began, “who regularly send me information as to what Sardos is doing.”
She looked at the Earl a little pleadingly as she added,
“I am not really spying on him just for the sake of it, but to save Armond from any further embarrassment.”
“I understand, of course I understand!” the Earl murmured.
“Some weeks ago,” the Comtesse continued, “I was told that Sardos was in desperate trouble. He owes thousands and thousands of francs and his creditors are becoming extremely unpleasant about it.”
The Earl thought that it was what he might have suspected. He too had heard of Sardos’s extravagance on women who could spend a man’s whole fortune in two or three days and nights.
“That was bad news,” the Comtesse continued, “but there is worse.”
“In what way?” the Earl enquired.
“I was told confidentially that Sardos was assuring his creditors that his uncle would not live for very long. On his death, as there was no direct heir, the money and the estate would belong to his mother.”
The Earl stared at the Comtesse in astonishment.
“Is that true?” he asked.
“It is something I had not thought about,” the Comtesse admitted, “in fact I have been so certain that sooner or later Armond would marry again that I had never asked what would happen if he died. After all, he is not yet thirty.”
“I know that,” the Earl said. “But, surely there is some heir presumptive if he does not have a son himself.”
“Actually the title would end with Armond,” the Comtesse replied, “which is why we have been so worried.”
She paused for a moment before she continued,
“My brother, Armond’s father, longed to have a large family. As is usual, he was married when he was young to a charming girl whom we all liked.”
The Earl nodded his head and the Comtesse went on,
“She produced a daughter and then learnt from the doctors that it would be impossible for her to have another child.”
“I had no idea of this,” the Earl exclaimed. “In fact I always thought that the Duc was the son of the first marriage.”
The Comtesse shook her head.
“No, Eleonore died of a sudden fever four years after they were married.”
The Earl was listening intently as she continued,
“To our delight my brother married again and, while he had been happy with his first wife, we all adored Dorothée, who was the sweetest person and as lovely in her own way as your wife.”
“And what happened?” the Earl asked.
The Comtesse sighed again.
“She produced Armond,” she answered, “a year after the marriage and you can imagine how thrilled my brother was. Armond was not only the direct heir but also the most adored child you could imagine. From the moment he was born he seemed to be everything that a father and mother could want. Naturally Dorothée wanted other children so that he would have companions.”
“And that was not possible?”
“It was a cruel blow and it is difficult to understand why God was not more merciful,” the Comtesse replied. “But a year after Armond was born, Dorothée had a fall out riding and her horse rolled on her.”
The Earl made an exclamation of horror, but he did not interrupt.
“My brother sent for every specialist in the whole country, but there was nothing they could do. For a long time she was in great pain, but that passed and eventually it would have been difficult for any outsider to guess that there was anything wrong. The real misery of it was that she could not have another child.”
“It is the saddest story I have ever heard,” the Earl exclaimed, “and I had no idea that anything like that had happened.”
“It was never talked about in the family because it upset my brother so much. And in fact, because Armond was delightful and so skilled at everything he undertook, we never missed the brothers and sisters he should have had.”
“I can understand that.”
The Earl was thinking of the Duc’s athletic prowess and how brilliant he was with horses.
“In fact everything seemed perfect,” the Comtesse said, “until there was the catastrophe of Armond’s marriage, which was really my brother’s fault.”
“Why do you say that?” the Earl asked.
“Because he was in such a hurry for Armond to have an heir that he insisted on his marrying when he was really too young. Having chosen his wife, my brother did not, we realised later, make enough enquiries about the girl herself.”
The Comtesse gave a deep sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her body.
“How could we have imagined – how could we have guessed – that she was mad? Of course her parents, the Marquis and Marquise knew about it, but they were desperately anxious for her to become la Duchesse de Roux.”
“It was a wicked act on their part and I hope they suffered when the truth came out,” the Earl remarked.
“They suffered,” the Comtesse agreed, “but it was Armond who was left with a hatred of marriage and a determination to do anything rather than go through the horror of it again.”
“A natural reaction,” the Earl murmured sympathetically.
“But now there is this problem with Sardos.”
“You do not really believe that he would murder his uncle to get the money he so badly needs?” the Earl asked.
“I can hardly bear to think of it,” the Comtesse confessed. “But, because he has always been an unpleasant, if not evil young man, I feel that he would stick at nothing to acquire money and more money, having spent a fortune already.”
“What does his mother think of all this?” the Earl asked.
“She has been in poor health for a long time,” the Comtesse answered, “and never leaves her home in Normandy, in fact her doctors say that she is not well enough to travel.”
She gave a little sob before she went on,
“What we do know is that the money Armond gives her is all snatched away by Sardos. He only goes home when there is a chance of his being able to take any money from his mother that Armond has sent her.”
“It is utterly disgraceful!” the Earl said. “Something should be done about that young man!”
“I agree with you,” the Comtesse said. “The difficulty is, what can we do? If anything should happen to Armond, the money and estate goes to his half-sister.”
The Earl made a cry and the Comtesse explained,
“My brother made a will soon after Armond was born in which he said, of course, that everything went, as is usual in France, to the next heir to the Dukedom. In the event, however, of there being no heir, then the money should be divided between his daughter by his first marriage and the children who would, of course, in that case all be daughters that Armond produced.”
The Earl thought this over.
Then he said,
“I see. That means that in the present circumstances, if the Duc dies unmarried and leaving no heir, then his half-sister inherits everything.”
“Everything!” the Comtesse affirmed. “And that is what Sardos has told his creditors.”
The Earl once again put his hand over hers.
“I understand how much this is frightening you, Yvonne, but I cannot believe that in this day and age your nephew Sardos would risk going to the guillotine. If he murdered his uncle, that is exactly what would happen.”
“Only if he was found out,” the Comtesse said in a low voice.
&
nbsp; “He may be a spendthrift and, as you say, cruel to his mother. But I cannot believe that any man of his age would risk being arrested for murder.” the Earl objected.
He saw the Comtesse shiver and went on,
“Should the Duc die in circumstances that could arouse any suspicion, that suspicion would immediately rest on anyone who was likely to benefit from his death.”
“I appreciate what you are saying,” the Comtesse replied. “At the same time I am frightened, very frightened! I have never liked Sardos. I have always been horrified at the way he treats his mother.”
She looked at the Earl before she said,
“I am well aware that he will swear on everything Holy that he will not get into debt again. But he makes no effort to keep his vow.”
“I agree with you that the whole situation is appalling,” the Earl answered. “I am only wondering what I can do about it.”
“You have done exactly what I asked you to do,” the Comtesse replied. “You have brought your daughter here. Surely Armond will see how lovely she is and how very suitable a marriage would be between your family and ours?”
The Earl hesitated.
Then he said,
“I must be frank with you, Yvonne, and I am afraid it will upset you, but Marcia is determined not to marry the Duc or any other man for that matter!”
The Comtesse stared at him.
“Determined not – to be married?” she said slowly.
“Marcia has turned down every eligible bachelor in London,” the Earl replied, “including, just before we came here, the Duke of Buckstead.”
“And you don’t think that she will be attracted by Armond?”
“I only hope that she will change her mind,” the Earl said slowly, “but she told me categorically that nothing would induce her to marry the Duc and she would not allow me to choose a husband for her even though she is aware that by the laws of England I can force her to marry any man I wish to have as a son-in-law.”
The Comtesse gave a little cry.
“Oh, Lionel, then all my plans are hopeless! I was praying as I have prayed fervently that these two young people would fall in love with each other and, if there was an heir, Sardos would gain nothing by murdering Armond.”