A Duke in Danger Read online

  “I have enjoyed my meal immensely, and I must not forget to congratulate Mrs. Johnson for remembering that her strawberry tart was always one of my favourite dishes.”

  “Mrs. Johnson has never forgotten anything about you or anyone else in the family,” Alvina said. “When they knew that you were to be the next Duke, they were so glad that if it could not be Richard, it was you.”

  She took a sip of champagne before she went on.

  “I think we were all terrified that it might be Jason.”

  The Duke was surprised.

  “Do you know your cousin Jason?”

  Alvina nodded.

  “He came here to stay after Richard died, and I knew that as he was looking round he was thinking that with any luck, you would be killed too, and he would become the next Duke!”

  She paused before she explained:

  “He invited himself, and the manner in which he went from room to room, looking at everything and making, I thought, mental notes on their value, made me very ... afraid.”

  “I can understand that,” the Duke said. “I have always disliked Jason, and actually I was told just before I left London that he was raising money on the chance of succeeding me in the title before I produce an heir.”

  Alvina gave a little cry.

  “You must be careful, very careful. I am sure he is a wicked, evil person, and he might murder you.”

  The Duke stared at her for a moment, then he laughed.

  “You are talking nonsense. I am quite certain that Jason would not go as far as that, but my friend Gerald Chertson actually warned me he would do anything to further his ambitions.”

  “I am sure he is absolutely ruthless where his ambitions are concerned.”

  “How can you be so positive?”

  “Perhaps it is because I have been so much alone here. You will think I am over-imaginative,” Alvina replied, “but ever since I was a child, I have had instincts about people and I am never mistaken.”

  “You mean you are clairvoyant?” the Duke asked almost mockingly.

  “Not exactly,” Alvina answered, “but you know that the Harlings are a very mixed breed and our Celtic blood is very strong.”

  The Duke raised his eye-brows as she explained:

  “My grandmother was Irish, my great-grandmother was Scottish, and actually Mama had a great number of Welsh relations, although I have never met them.”

  “If it comes to that,” the Duke said, “my great-grandmother was Scandinavian, which is why I was christened ‘Ivar.’ ”

  “So you are perceptive, too.”

  “I like to think I can judge a man without having to read references about him, and that if I follow my instinct where he is concerned, I am invariably right.”

  “And you can do the same with women?”

  “If I answer ‘yes,’ you will be able to retort that I was completely wrong in the way I judged you.”

  “Did you ... really think I had taken that ... money for ... myself?” Alvina asked in a low voice.

  “To be honest, I thought you might be giving it to some man you fancied and of whom your father did not approve.”

  Alvina laughed.

  “That was certainly very far from the mark! I do not think I have seen a young man for years. When Papa decided we were so hard-up that we could not entertain, he refused every invitation he received, and if anyone called, they were sent away ... usually rudely.”

  “It must have been very lonely for you,” the Duke said sympathetically.

  “It would have been much worse if I had not had books to read and dear Miss Richardson to talk to.” She looked at the Duke, and then as she thought he might contradict her, she said:

  “She is a very exceptional person. Her father was an Oxford Don who wrote several books on Roman history which were acclaimed by every scholar in the country. The fact that she was capable of helping him with them shows that had she been a man, she would undoubtedly have been an outstanding scholar.”

  “You were very well taught, then,” the Duke said.

  “Of course I was,” Alvina said, “and thank you for asking her back here. She is very thrilled at the invitation.”

  “You did ask her to dine with us tonight?” the Duke said quickly.

  “I did, but she declined as her legs were paining her so much as they often do at night-time, and when she is in pain she prefers to be alone.”

  “I see,” the Duke said. “We must get someone who specialises in rheumatism, or whatever she has, to see her.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “There must be some Physician in London,” the Duke replied, “who has studied the rheumatic diseases which affect so many older people.”

  Alvina put her hand palm upwards on the table. “How ... can you ... be ... so kind?” she said in a low, broken voice.

  The Duke put his hand over hers. He could feel her fingers quiver almost as if he held a small bird in his grasp.

  “I hated you,” Alvina said in a low voice, “first because you had taken Richard’s place and then because you did not answer my letter.”

  “I can understand that,” the Duke said quietly.

  “And then you were angry with me when you came here and I thought you were heartless and indifferent.” Her fingers tightened beneath his and she said:

  “Now I am sorry I thought that.”

  The Duke smiled.

  “I think our Celtic instincts have broken down or gone on strike. They were certainly not working efficiently when we first met each other! That is why, Alvina, we have to start again.”

  “We have started already,” Alvina said. “Mrs. Johnson has three girls in the kitchen, and Walton told me before dinner that he had another footman coming tomorrow from the village and other people who used to be in service here with the Harlings for years.”

  Her fingers tightened again. Her eyes seemed to glow, partly because there were tears in them, and she said in a voice that was very low:

  “Thank you, thank you, for being exactly the head of the family we want.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DRIVING BACK TO London, the Duke knew that, if he was honest, he had never enjoyed two days more.

  Alvina had taken him round the Estate, both of them riding horses from the team that Gerald had bought him, which were not only perfectly broken as carriage-horses but excellent to ride.

  After the old and somewhat indifferent horses which were all that Alvina had after her father had disposed of the stable, it was, the Duke realised, a thrill for her to be mounted on such perfect horse-flesh.

  He also realised that she rode extremely well, and because she was so happy she looked, he thought, exceedingly attractive.

  Her habit was old and worn but had once been well cut, and because she had really grown out of it, it revealed her very slim and very elegant figure.

  The Duke had ridden with many beautiful women in Paris when it had been fashionable to appear every morning in the Bois, and also in Vienna with the alluring, auburn-haired Beauties who prided themselves on their horsemanship.

  Nevertheless, he thought that his cousin could hold her own from an equestrian point of view.

  The fact that she was excited by what he was planning to do made her face glow with a radiance which he seldom saw in a woman’s face unless he was making love to her.

  They had sat up quite late last night, poring over the book in which Alvina had set down all of her expenditures since 1814 when her father first began cheese-paring.

  At first, she had merely supplemented what she was given to pay for the food from what had been her dress allowance and from two hundred pounds which her mother had left her on her death.

  Then, when her father became more determined that they were going bankrupt, she had started to pay the wages of the older servants whom he insisted must be dismissed.

  However, he was by then confined to his bedroom and had no idea that they were still in the house.

  “The Waltons
, Mrs. Johnson, and Emma were all too old to leave,” Alvina said in her soft voice, “but some of the younger ones found other jobs. The footmen had to go onto the land or into the Services and they were very bitter at being turned away.”

  She sighed as she explained:

  “They had lived on the Estate all their lives, and their families had always served the Harlings.”

  “We can only hope,” the Duke replied, “that some of them will be able to come back now.”

  “It was kind of you to arrange for Mark to take the Waltons and Mrs. Johnson in a carriage to the village.”

  “They could hardly walk.”

  Knowing the drive was over a mile long, Alvina gave a little laugh.

  “It would certainly have taken them a very long time, and that of course was another reason why it was impossible for them to leave us even if they had wanted to, because Papa thought he had sold all the horses.”

  “But you managed to keep two,” the Duke stated.

  “I kept the one I had ridden for years,” Alvina replied, “and poor old Rufus, whom no-one would buy. He must be over seventeen years old.”

  The Duke made no comment because, as he had said so often, what had happened seemed so incredible that now he was just prepared to listen.

  He wanted, however, to find out and see for himself exactly what had happened.

  When they visited the farms he could understand that no-one with even a shred of decency in them would have turned away the Hendersons because they could not pay their rent.

  There had been five generations of Hendersons farming that particular farm, and on other farms it was much the same story.

  He was really appalled at the condition that the farms were in. The roofs had not been repaired for years, and many of the outbuildings had collapsed altogether.

  “Things were good in the war, Your Grace,” one farmer told him, “but soon as it were over, no-one wanted the farmers any longer, and the big harvest of 1815 flooded the market.”

  The Duke was quick to understand that few farmers had saved money, and, being able to visualise anything but rising prices, they had invested everything they had in their land.

  The poor soils they had ploughed in response to the war-time demand became economically unworkable when wheat prices fell disastrously.

  By the time he and Alvina had ridden over only half of the Estate and listened to the despair the farmers expressed, he could sympathise with, although he certainly did not condone it, the fear which had made the last Duke believe he was ruined.

  By the mercy of Providence he could repair much of the damage, but he could not help remembering that he could not replace the men who had been killed in battle and who would never return.

  He had, however, told his own tenant-farmers that he would lend them money to make improvements without interest for three years, and he also promised he would find out when he returned to London what were the best markets available for the crops they grew.

  Their gratitude was pathetic, and as the Duke and Alvina rode away from the fourth farm they had visited, he said to her:

  “I hope that I am not being too optimistic and that there will be purchasers for the wheat, oats, barley, and all the other crops.”

  “What is more important than anything else,” Alvina replied, “is that there should be work for the younger men.”

  The Duke knew this was true.

  As he drove back to London, he saw in the villages through which he passed men who looked unmistakably as if they should be wearing a uniform.

  They were sitting about on the Village Green or lounging outside the Inn, obviously with time on their hands because they were unemployed.

  He thought to his satisfaction that at least he had a great number of vacancies now at the Castle.

  The Head-Gardener was too old and too infirm to do anything active, but Alvina was certain that he would be able to direct any men they employed and would be aware of what would grow best in the Kitchen Garden.

  He would also know where the strawberry-beds, the peas, the beans, and the carrots had been planted in the past.

  The Duke had thought that the first thing he should do was to find and engage an Estate Manager.

  But because Alvina was so involved in this herself, and he knew it would make her happy to re-employ those who had been dismissed, he had thought that could wait until she found it too much for her.

  At the same time, the Estate was a very extensive one.

  The next day they had visited other farms, inspected an Orphanage which had been closed for three years, and called at the Schools, which were empty and neglected.

  There were also several Churches which were either on the verge of falling down or had no incumbent because the reigning Duke was responsible for his stipend.

  When they returned to the Castle late in the afternoon, having had luncheon at a village Inn consisting of fresh bread and cheese washed down with home-brewed cider, the Duke actually felt quite tired.

  Alvina, however, despite her frail appearance, seemed to be as fresh and as buoyant as she had been in the morning.

  He knew she was stimulated and excited by the knowledge that the burden of misery and despair which had rested on her shoulders for so long had now been lifted.

  It was after dinner, when it was getting late and they had almost completed their plans for the next few months at any rate, that the Duke had said:

  “Now, Alvina, I think we will talk about you. You have set my feet on the right path, so I must do the same for you.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I think I am right in thinking that you are nineteen,” the Duke said, “and you should have made your debut in London last year, but of course you were in mourning. Now, with Berkeley Square at your disposal, you must meet the Beau Monde and, of course, the Prince Regent.”

  He expected Alvina to be excited at the idea, as he thought any young woman would have been, but to his surprise she looked away from him to say:

  “I would much rather stay here. I am too ... old to be a ... debutante.”

  “That is untrue,” he said. “And although I am very grateful for your help, I cannot allow you to waste your youth and your beauty tending old pensioners and opening Schools for obstreperous children.”

  Alvina had risen from the chair in which she had been sitting and walked across the Morning-Room to pull aside the curtains over the window.

  Outside, it was night. The sky was bright with stars and there was a moon rising over the tops of the oak trees in the Park.

  She stood looking out in silence.

  The Duke, watching her, thought how slim and exquisite she looked in a white muslin gown which he knew had been made for her by Miss Richardson.

  The muslin, which had been intended for curtains, revealed the soft curves of her breasts, but he knew she was in fact too thin, which doubtless was caused by not having enough to eat.

  He had learnt that their staple fare had been rabbits which Alvina had paid boys from the village to snare in the Park, and eggs which came from a few old chickens that were cooped up outside the kitchen-yard.

  The vegetables, the Duke learnt, had grown untended in the Kitchen Garden but had naturally become more and more sparse as the years went on, so that Alvina had to search for them amongst the weeds.

  Because these were such an important part of their diet, she had planted potatoes to supplement what was growing more or less wild.

  The Duke wondered why she was not more enthusiastic about the idea of going to London. Then suddenly she turned from the window to say:

  “No! It would be a mistake, and if you do not ... want me here, perhaps you would let me ... live in one of the ... cottages. I would be quite happy if Miss Richardson would ... stay with me.”

  The Duke stared at her and found it hard to believe what she was saying, before he replied:

  “My dear child, Miss Richardson is already an old woman, while you are young, very youn
g, and your whole life is in front of you. Of course you must take your proper place in Society as you would have done had your mother been alive.”

  “Are you saying in a tactful manner that you ... wish to be ... rid of me?” Alvina asked. “Perhaps you are ... thinking of getting ... married.”

  There was just a little pause before the Duke said firmly:

  “I have no intention of getting married, not at any rate for a long time.”

  He knew as he spoke that it was impossible to imagine Isobel caring for the people on the Estate as Alvina had done, nor would she wish, he knew, to spend any length of time at the Castle.

  She would want to be at Berkeley Square, entertaining for the sophisticated, witty, pleasure-loving Socialites who were an intrinsic part of her life wherever she might be.

  “If you do not ... mind my being here,” Alvina said, “please, can I stay ... with you? I should feel ... afraid anywhere else. You must be aware how ... ignorant I am of the ... Social World.”

  “It consists of people,” the Duke replied with a smile, “people like you and me, Alvina, and they are not really a race apart, whatever you may have heard about them.”

  As he spoke, he thought that was not quite true. No-one could be more different from the people in the cottages and the villages, who he had realised today almost worshipped Alvina, then the gay, irresponsible Beau Monde, who were selfish, extravagant, and concerned only with their incessant search for amusement.

  They would merely find Alvina a badly dressed country girl.

  Because the Duke had spent what free time he had with the most exquisitely gowned Beauties in every Capital he had visited, he was well aware how important clothes were to women.

  He said now to Alvina:

  “You will have to go to London for one thing, if nothing else—to buy yourself new clothes.”

  He spoke without thinking that it might sound an insult, and seeing a flush appear on Alvina’s face he added:

  “Perhaps I should have told you before that you are very lovely, but even the most beautiful picture needs the right frame to show it off.”