Love At Last Read online

  The report she received on the boy was satisfactory and she had no reason not to return to her desk.

  Soon she found herself gazing out of the window at the bare trees – and thinking of nothing.

  With an effort Cecilia brought her mind back to the matters in hand, approved the chef’s menu and then turned to the list of items her clinic required. There were so many of them and she needed to see if she could not manage to cut down on the total.

  Gradually Cecilia became aware that, instead of concentrating on quantities of bandages, she was listening for sounds of a visitor in the hall.

  At eleven o’clock the butler knocked, entered and asked if she would like to be served with morning coffee.

  Just as she was deciding not to wait for a possible visit from Ivan before coffee, there came the long awaited knock on the door.

  But the card the footman brought in was not that of Prince Ivan but of Rosalind Dampier.

  “Of course I am at home,” agreed Cecilia swiftly, refusing to admit to herself how disappointed she was.

  She went out to the hall to greet Rosalind.

  They kissed and Cecilia led her into the morning room where the fire was burning brightly and the display of flowers released a sweet scent into the air.

  Rosalind was full of apologies for calling.

  “But I needed to see you were indeed alright, dear Cecilia,” she intoned. “Do say if this is inconvenient, as I do know how busy you always are.”

  “Merely a small matter of supplies for my clinic. Nothing that cannot wait. Please, do sit down, Rosalind. Coffee will soon be with us.”

  “Are you really not too exhausted? And how is the little boy?”

  Cecilia assured her that she had not suffered at all and that the boy was making good progress.

  “Oh, I am so pleased – ” Rosalind rambled on.

  Coffee arrived and the butler poured it out.

  “It was such a lovely day, until that horrid moment the runaway horse appeared, everything was quite perfect.

  “Thank you so very much for asking me to your luncheon for Prince Ivan. I – ” Rosalind, glanced down at her lap as if suddenly shy, “ – I do like him awfully.”

  Cecilia now faced the fact that her plan to introduce Prince Ivan to a suitable bride had, in one direction at least, succeeded rather well.

  Nobody could be prettier, more malleable or richer than Rosalind Dampier – and it seemed as though Rosalind was already more than half in love with the dashing Prince.

  So Cecilia smiled at her young friend and replied,

  “I am so glad, Rosalind. And I think he must like you or he would not have asked you to the steeplechase.”

  Rosalind raised her pale blue eyes to Cecilia.

  “But he also asked you and I think he paid you just as much attention as he did me.”

  “I was only asked because I was the hostess at the event where he met you. You know that social decorum requires that a guest first met at such a function cannot be asked to another without the hostess being included.”

  Rosalind looked relieved.

  “Do tell me all about Rusitania, Cecilia. You went there, didn’t you, with your parents?”

  Cecilia nodded and found herself launching into an ecstatic account of Rusitania’s glorious countryside as well as its picturesque towns and villages.

  “And the people are so charming. I don’t think I have ever been anywhere where everyone is so helpful and so full of character. It’s as if they are perfectly at ease with themselves and want visitors to be as happy as they are.”

  Rosalind looked intrigued.

  “I would love to go there. If I have the opportunity to meet Prince Ivan again – I shall ask him all about his country.”

  Cecilia took a deep breath.

  “I am intending to ask the Prince to come down to Yarlington, our country estate, for next weekend. If you haven’t anything else planned, Rosalind, would you care to come too?”

  The girl coloured in a charming way.

  “Oh, Cecilia, I would love that. I shall ask Mama as soon as I get home if I may accept.”

  She rose.

  “And now I must go, I have taken up enough of your valuable time as it is.”

  At that moment the footman entered with another calling card on his silver salver.

  “Prince Ivan of Rusitania asks if you are at home, my Lady.”

  At last!

  Cecilia rose and tried not to show her pleasure.

  “Show His Royal Highness in, please.”

  Ivan entered.

  He was dressed in a formal suit with a dark blue silk tie. With his dark hair and intense blue eyes he looked so debonair, Cecilia at once found another odd little tremor run through her heart.

  “Lady Cecilia, I am sorry to be so late calling, my Ambassador needed a meeting on some affairs of state.”

  He took Cecilia’s hand and bowed over it, this time not quite kissing it.

  Cecilia found she was deeply disappointed.

  She tried to tell herself that he must have received instruction as to the correct procedure in England – perhaps from his Ambassador.

  “May I enquire if you have suffered any ill effects from yesterday’s unfortunate incident?”

  “Prince Ivan, I am in full health, there have been no after effects, I am glad to say. Like you, Miss Dampier has been kind enough to call to see if I am quite well.”

  Until that particular moment it seemed that Ivan had not noticed Rosalind.

  For an instant he seemed taken aback, but only for an instant, then he took her outstretched hand and hovered over it in the same way he had over Cecilia’s.

  “The beautiful Miss Dampier,” he sighed. “I hope I find you in good health as well? It was so kind of you to afford me the pleasure of your company yesterday.”

  Rosalind flushed most charmingly and assured him that she was very well.

  “I was just on the point of leaving when you were announced,” she added, sounding sad.

  “Then I wish even more that I had arrived earlier.”

  For a moment Rosalind hovered, obviously wishing to stay longer and then her good manners prevailed and she said a final farewell to Cecilia.

  “Good bye, Prince Ivan,” she cooed. “I do hope we shall meet again soon.”

  “I also,” he answered and moved to open the door for her. But Cecilia had already rung for the footman to show Rosalind out and to bring fresh coffee.

  “A delightful girl,” commented Cecilia as the door closed behind her friend. “I hope you have the time to take coffee with me, Prince Ivan?”

  He sat in the chair she indicated and looked around.

  “What a lovely room. Your dining and drawing rooms are magnificent, but this is so – so – ”

  “So comfortable?” laughed Cecilia.

  “My Mama and I wanted a room that was informal and received the morning sun, where we could greet our friends and be, I think the right word to use is ‘cosy’.”

  She glanced around at the chintz-covered furniture, the pretty porcelain ornaments that decorated Sheraton side tables. The fireplace had a white marble surround, but was lined with blue Delft tiles.

  “Cosy,” he repeated. “Yes, that is just what it is. Sometimes, you know, one can tire of magnificence.”

  Cecilia smiled and felt herself relax with him.

  “I know what you mean. I attend so many formal functions with my Papa that frequently I long for a small supper with friends where we can just be ourselves and not have to always worry about saying the right thing to the right person – or have to remember who everybody is.”

  Ivan gave a shout of laughter.

  “My dear Lady Cecilia, so often I feel exactly the same way. That is why I tried to make yesterday’s outing as informal as possible. I was so upset when it ended the way it did.”

  The coffee then arrived and Ivan was supplied with a cup. He looked very much at home.

  “Rosalind wanted me to
tell her about Rusitania,” smiled Cecilia. “She did so enjoy herself yesterday – until the advent of the runaway horse that is.”

  “Which reminds me, how is the young boy? You said you would be checking at the hospital this morning.”

  Cecilia then realised that this was a man who cared about other people.

  “He is doing well,” she told him.

  Then she continued, a little diffidently,

  “My father and I were wondering if you would care to spend a weekend with us in the country. We should love to be able to return the hospitality your parents afforded us when we had the pleasure of visiting your country.”

  Ivan put down his coffee cup.

  “Lady Cecilia – ”

  Cecilia did not allow him to continue – it was as though she was afraid he might refuse.

  “There will be hunting, if you care to participate, and Papa would love to be able to discuss Rusitania with you. He has mentioned that he would like to talk to you about developing your graphite deposits.”

  “Graphite?” Ivan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The Earl is acquainted with minerals?”

  Cecilia smiled.

  “My father has a deep interest in a very wide range of subjects.”

  “I would indeed like a discussion with your father. It is extremely kind of you to invite me and I accept with pleasure.”

  “Good, and I am hoping that Rosalind will be able to come as well.”

  “Miss Dampier is charming, of course. It will be delightful to see her again.”

  Cecilia was rather surprised that he did not sound as excited by the prospect as she had expected.

  Was he maybe not as enchanted by her as Rosalind was by him?

  “And I hope we shall have no runaway horses on our estate,” Cecilia added with a smile.

  It was if the remark had a poisoned dart.

  “Why should you say that?” Ivan asked sharply.

  All at once, instead of the charming man she had felt relaxed with, Cecilia saw Prince Ivan, the man used to commanding men – both on the battlefield and with affairs of state.

  “I’m – sorry,” she stammered. “That was ill-judged – of me. I meant no – offence, Your Royal Highness.”

  He waved his hand as if to dismiss her concerns.

  “You were right to mention the matter. I think I have not given it enough consideration.”

  He thought for a moment, then added,

  “Perhaps, Lady Cecilia, I should not after all come to your country home.”

  Cecilia felt a distinct stab of disappointment and could not stop herself saying,

  “Why ever not?”

  At once she saw a possible reason for his change of heart and stammered,

  “I – assure you – you will be quite safe there – ”

  “It was not – I mean, I did not intend to suggest I would not be.”

  He seemed to make a rapid decision.

  “Of course I shall come. And now I must take my leave with many thanks for your hospitality.”

  The rapport Cecilia felt had existed between them had vanished, as had the charm he had previously shown.

  She felt bewildered and wished now that she had not issued the invitation for the weekend.

  Would, she wondered, this new version of Prince Ivan send round a polite letter of refusal at the last moment with the excuse that some affair of state had arisen?

  Once he had left, Cecilia sat down again feeling depressed.

  What had started as a highly enjoyable encounter had ended in what she read as a rejection of herself and her hospitality.

  The footman entered with an envelope that had just been delivered.

  Opening it, Cecilia drew out an embossed card that invited both her and her father to the private view of an Exhibition of Folk Art at the Voskian Embassy.

  When Cecilia showed it to her father later, he said,

  “I shall be very pleased to go. I remember Voskia with almost as much pleasure as Rusitania.”

  “Maybe Prince Ivan will be there as well – ”

  Cecilia did not know whether she wanted him to be there or not. His sudden change of mood that morning still perplexed her.

  “Please accept the invitation,” insisted the Earl.

  *

  The Voskian Embassy was small but had a certain style.

  Almost as soon as Cecilia and her father arrived, a distinguished man with swept-back blond hair and eagle features came up to them. He wore military uniform heavy with medals and a scarlet sash over his shoulder.

  He clicked his heels and gave a small bow.

  “Your Lordship and Lady Cecilia, I am flattered you have deigned to visit our little Exhibition.”

  “Of course,” answered the Earl, “I believe I address Prince Peter of Voskia? Some years ago I met your parents and greatly admired your country.”

  “Indeed, I remember your visit, sir. You had with you your wife and your so-beautiful daughter.”

  Prince Peter gave Cecilia a dazzling smile.

  “I was very sorry to hear that your wife has passed away. But I am delighted you admire Voskia. Come, may I take you round the Exhibition and explain our art?”

  He snapped his fingers at a nearby waiter and they were presented with glasses of excellent champagne.

  Cecilia was happy to be escorted around by this charismatic figure.

  She listened to the Prince explaining the myths and legends that lay behind the almost pointillist Folk Art that was displayed on the walls. It was an enchanting style and she told him so.

  “Lady Cecilia, I am so pleased to hear you say so. My country struggles for recognition and for international trade. I am hoping that this Exhibition will help attract foreign buyers.”

  “I expect your recent conflict with Rusitania must have been a drain on your country’s finances,” remarked the Earl, looking keenly at Peter.

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “It was unfortunate, a misjudgement both by myself and Prince Ivan, my cousin. He is reckless, does not think out consequences, I am afraid. However, I am hopeful we can repair the damage to our relationship – he is indeed a charming fellow, though something of a womaniser. No doubt he will settle down in time.”

  Cecilia listened to this with dismay.

  Was Prince Ivan really a womaniser?

  Was he the sort of man who would charm a girl and then discard her?

  The way he had failed to respond to Rosalind’s obvious enchantment with him the other day suggested that he might be.

  However, Cecilia did not feel that Prince Peter was being honest about the conduct of the war between Voskia and Rusitania. As she understood the conflict, Voskia had blatantly invaded Rusitania and Prince Ivan had had no choice but to defend his homeland. Maybe he was being equally inaccurate in his snide remarks about his cousin.

  Cecilia recalled meeting the Prince and Princess of Voskia. Much older than their close relations in Rusitania, they had lacked their charm.

  Their hospitality had been stiff and the seventeen year old Cecilia had quickly become bored. When Prince Peter had arrived for luncheon, she had hoped for some entertaining talk. Instead, he had soon disappeared with a weak excuse that had upset his parents.

  Cecilia had decided it was because he had found her plain and uninteresting.

  In the years between then and now, Prince Peter had clearly discovered charm. Like his cousin, he had the ability to make the person he was speaking to think they were the most interesting in the room.

  Despite her many reservations Cecilia found herself responding to his obvious admiration.

  She liked the glint in his eyes and the way he held himself. Above all she was flattered by the way he gave the impression he now considered her an attractive woman.

  Cecilia was accustomed to respect and to affection, but rarely did she meet with the sort of admiration that Prince Peter was now according her. It was very seductive.

  Then, coming towards them, she saw one
of the most stunning women she had ever set eyes on.

  Luxuriant flame-coloured hair was piled on top of her head and set off with an aigrette of white feathers. She was wearing a green gown that matched her green eyes and showed off her curvaceous figure.

  She came up to the Prince, linked her arm through his and cooed,

  “Peter, do introduce me to your charming guests.”

  Cecilia received a distinct impression that he would rather that this vision of loveliness had not appeared at that particular moment.

  However he smiled dutifully.

  “Please, Lady Cecilia and Lord Yarlington, allow me to introduce the Countess Natasha Balinskova.”

  Natasha extended her neatly shaped hand.

  “I am so pleased that you were able to come to our Exhibition.”

  “The Countess was responsible for choosing all the artists and their work and for gathering them together and for arranging this display.”

  Prince Peter waved his hand at the works around them and Cecilia was impressed.

  “It must have taken considerable effort,” she said. “Can you tell me anything about the artists?”

  “I would very much like to.”

  Natasha’s English was faultless, only a very slight accent betrayed the fact that it was not her mother tongue.

  “Shall we go round the room?”

  On this tour of the exhibits, Cecilia was treated to personal stories of the artists.

  “This is one of my real favourites,” Natasha paused before a painting of a girl in national dress. She was in a flowery meadow with a brook running through it. On the other side was a young man in the leather shorts Cecilia remembered from her visit to the country. There was an air of simplicity about the work yet the clarity was superb.

  “The painter is an old man now,” sighed Natasha.

  She slipped her arm through Cecilia’s and leaned towards her in a confiding way.

  “All his life he wanted to paint. He sells the works to villagers who buy them as wedding presents for their offspring, for he paints the stories they grew up with. He calls his paintings his children.”

  “What is the story behind this one?” asked Cecilia.

  “Ah, this is a legend of doomed love. That little brook is the border between Voskia and Rusitania. The girl lives in Voskia and the boy in Rusitania. Their parents will not let them marry because of enmity between the two countries.