A Duke in Danger Read online

  “I have a feeling,” Alvina said slowly, “that you are flattering me to get your own way. I am not used to compliments and so I am suspicious of them. Although I would love some new clothes, I am afraid if I move away from here you will never let me come back.”

  She spoke lightly, the Duke was aware, but there was undoubtedly a quiver of fear beneath the surface.

  “I promise you,” he said quickly, “that the Castle is your home for as long as you wish to stay here.”

  “If you ... marry ... what then?”

  “I have no intention of marrying,” the Duke said almost irritably. “At least not for a very long time.”

  “But you will have to, otherwise Cousin Jason will know he has a chance of taking your place.”

  “I will deal with Jason myself when I reach London,” the Duke said, “and there is no need for you to worry about him any longer.”

  He spoke with a hint of laughter in his voice, then in a different tone he said:

  “For God’s sake, stop thinking of everyone but yourself. You have done that for far too long. I can assure you it is quite unnatural for a pretty and very attractive young woman.”

  He saw the colour come into her cheeks from his compliment, and she turned away to say almost obstinately:

  “I do not ... wish to go to ... London.”

  “That is what you are going to do,” the Duke said. “I suppose you realise that now that your father is dead, I am not only head of the family but also your Guardian, and you have to obey me.”

  She turned to look at him, and now there was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she said:

  “And if I do ... not?”

  “Then I shall think of some horrendous punishment which will bring you to heel.”

  “And what will that be?”

  “I cannot think for the moment,” the Duke replied, “but perhaps I shall cancel the horses I intended to buy at Tattersall’s for you to ride, or perhaps, worse, I will forget my plans for the Ball I want to give here in the Castle to introduce not only you to the County and to my friends from London but also myself.”

  “A Ball?” Alvina repeated almost stupidly.

  “A Ball,” the Duke said firmly. “And one thing is very important, Alvina, and that is that you should learn to dance gracefully the new waltz which was introduced to London by the Princess de Lieven.”

  Alvina came from the window to sit down opposite him on the sofa.

  “Did you ... really say a ... Ball?” she asked. “I think I am ... dreaming.”

  “I have every intention of celebrating my home-coming in a spectacular manner.”

  Actually he had not thought of it until that moment, but he knew that was much the best way to get Alvina involved in the world that he knew was waiting for her outside the Castle after the years of what was virtually imprisonment.

  “I would never have thought,” she said, “though Mama talked of it when I was very young, that there would ever be a ... Ball in the Castle and that I could ... dance at it.”

  “It is something I intend to give,” the Duke said.

  “But the Ball-Room has not been ... used for ... years. The walls all want ... washing down, the floor ... polished, and I am certain the mice have eaten holes in the ... chairs and the ... curtains.”

  As I intend to give the Ball in a month or six weeks’ time,” the Duke said, “you will have to get busy.”

  Alvina gave a little scream.

  “That is ... impossible! Quite ... impossible with ... everything else!”

  “Nothing is impossible when one has unlimited money, Alvina, and as you pointed out to me yourself, there are hundreds of men whom we know and can trust, because they are our own people, longing for work.”

  “Yes ... yes, of course ... that is ... true,” Alvina agreed. “But I have to try and ... visualise how it can ... possibly be ... done.”

  “I am sure I can leave it in your hands,” the Duke said, laughing, “and when I return from London in two or three days’ time, I shall have found out which are the best dressmakers for you to visit, and will make arrangements for you to come to London with Miss Richardson and stay at Berkeley Square.”

  “You are going ... too fast,” Alvina protested. “I have already said that I have ... no wish to be a ... debutante.”

  “You can call yourself what you like,” the Duke replied, “but just as I have my duties which are obligatory, as you are well aware, as your father’s daughter you have yours.”

  This was irrefutable, and after a moment Alvina said in a very small voice:

  “I know you are ... right, but I am ... sure I shall make a ... mess of it all.”

  “Just as you are helping me not to make a mess of my inheritance, of which I have already admitted I am confoundedly ignorant,” the Duke said, “I will prevent you from making a mess of what is waiting for you in London, and of that I am considerably knowledgeable.” They went on talking for a little while of what they must both do, apart from improving the conditions on the Estate.

  Only when they walked upstairs side by side and paused on the landing to say “good-night” as they went in opposite directions did Alvina say:

  “You are quite ... certain that I shall ... not be completely out-of-place in London and that you will not be ... ashamed of me?”

  “I am quite prepared to bet a considerable amount of money,” the Duke replied, “that you will not only be surprised at your success, but in a very short time will begin to think of it as your right.”

  Alvina gave a little laugh, and he went on:

  “You will then, like all women, undoubtedly complain and reproach me for the omissions in your programme for which I am responsible, and forget to thank me.” He was teasing her, but when Alvina looked up at him wide-eyed, she said:

  “How could I ever be anything but very ... very grateful ... to you? Perhaps one day I shall be able to find a way to thank you.”

  Then, as if she felt shy, she said hastily before he could speak:

  “Good-night, Cousin Ivar.”

  Then she slipped away from him down the passage towards her bedroom.

  ‘I will make her a success,’ the Duke thought. ‘She certainly deserves it after all she has been through.’

  At the same time, he could understand that the social life he was visualising for her was very different from what she had known previously.

  It must have been very restricting for her to live alone at the Castle with her father, who had undoubtedly been mad, and after his death to be left with the fear of starvation and with no-one to advise her as to what she should do.

  “It is all my fault,” the Duke told himself for the hundredth time. “I should have come back, however much it annoyed Wellington.”

  But it was impossible to put back the clock, and now he knew his first duty as head of the family was to ensure, after all she had suffered, that Alvina’s future would be very different from what it had been in the past.

  When he arrived at Berkeley Square, it was a pleasure that lifted his heart to find Bateson and four footmen in well-fitting livery waiting for him and the Drawing Room open, cleaned, and polished.

  Actually, the whole house seemed to smell of bees’-wax.

  The Duke had sent a groom to London the day before to warn Bateson of his arrival. The man was middle-aged, and Alvina had said that he had worked at the Castle before he joined the Navy.

  He had then returned home to find time heavy on his hands because there was nothing for him to do.

  The Duke, using his instinct, was sure that the man was trustworthy and good with horses.

  He therefore engaged him immediately and told him to look round locally to find two other grooms whom he would recommend as men he would be willing to work with.

  He had known by the way the man squared his shoulders and seemed to grow taller that he had given him back his self-respect after three years of idleness.

  When he had sent him to London, he was certain t
hat the instructions he gave him would be punctiliously carried out.

  In fact, as soon as he entered the Drawing-Room, Bateson said to him,

  “Major Chertson called this morning, Your Grace, to say that he had received your note and would be delighted to have luncheon with you today.”

  The Duke looked at the clock, and realising there would be three-quarters-of-an-hour before Gerald arrived, he decided there were quite a number of things he could do while he waited.

  By the time Gerald Chertson appeared, he had written a pile of letters which lay on his desk in the Library. Some of them were to be delivered by hand and some were to be posted.

  Gerald came hurrying into the room, and as the Duke rose to meet him he felt that almost a century had passed since they had last talked together, before he had set off for the Castle, furiously angry because of what he believed to be his cousin Alvina’s treacherous behaviour.

  He told Gerald all about it while they drank a glass of champagne before going in to luncheon.

  Then in front of Bateson and the footmen they discussed mostly the improvements necessary on the Estate and the horses he wanted to buy at Tattersall’s.

  “I always knew you were a good organiser,” Gerald said after the Duke had talked for a long time, “and as you appear now to have a campaign of your own on your hands, I can imagine that it will not only give you pleasure but will be very good for you.”

  “What do you mean by that?” the Duke enquired.

  “I often thought when we were in Paris that you were too comfortably in the saddle as the great man’s special envoy, with the red carpet rolled out before you wherever you went, and you did not have to fight for what you wanted.”

  “Fight? I have done damn little else for the past nine years,” the Duke said.

  “I do not mean that sort of enemy, you fool,” Gerald replied. “I mean fighting for yourself and getting what you need personally, which is a very different thing.”

  “I suppose you are right,” the Duke agreed. “I do not see very much difference, except that it is rather like starting with a lot of raw recruits and wondering if they will ever turn into the excellent soldiers you want them to be.”

  “You will do it,” Gerald said, “but I am intrigued about this cousin of yours. Tell me about her.”

  The servants had now left the room, and the Duke said:

  “That is where I am going to need your help. You have been in London far more than I have, and you are of course very knowledgeable as to what she should and should not do.”

  “Before you go any further,” Gerald said, “you will have to find her a Chaperone who will introduce her to the right hostesses and of course get her accepted at Almack’s.”

  “I have already arranged ...” the Duke began.

  “If you are thinking of the Governess, forget her,” Gerald said. “What you want is someone of distinction who is respected by all the best hostesses. Surely there is one of your relations who can fit that bill?”

  “I have actually been considering who could present her,” the Duke said.

  “You need someone to do a great deal more than that,” Gerald answered, “and it must naturally be someone with an impeccable reputation.”

  The Duke knew quite well that Gerald was subtly warning him against Lady Isobel, and when he thought about it he knew she was one person whom he had no wish for Alvina to meet.

  He had put her at the back of his mind while he was in the country and had deliberately refrained from asking Gerald whether she was back in England.

  Now, as if there was no need to ask the question, his friend said:

  “Isobel arrived from Paris yesterday. She is staying at her father’s house in Piccadilly and is expecting you to dine with her tonight.”

  “Why did you tell her I was back?” the Duke asked sharply.

  “I did not have to tell her, she knew.”

  “How could she have known?”

  “She sent a servant, I gather, to call here to enquire when you were expected, and since you did not tell your Butler to keep it a secret, he naturally gave the answer.”

  “Dammit!” the Duke said beneath his breath. “I really do not have time for Isobel at the moment.”

  “You will find that Isobel has very different ideas.”

  “She will be disappointed.”

  That, however, was easier said than done.

  Before the Duke had time to send a note to her father’s house to say he was unavoidably prevented from dining with her that evening, it was too late.

  When he returned to Berkeley Square, having spent the afternoon visiting the Prince Regent and being enthusiastically received at Carlton House, he saw a carriage outside his house.

  It was emblazoned with a very impressive coat-of-arms, and he knew that Isobel was waiting for him.

  There was nothing he could do, because he was well aware that Isobel would continue to wait however long he remained away.

  Bateson told him she had been in the house for over an hour, and he went into the Drawing-Room.

  As the door closed behind him she rose from the chair in which she was sitting by the fireplace.

  He had to admit she looked very lovely. She had discarded her thin cloak and also her bonnet, which was trimmed with a dozen small ostrich-feathers.

  Her fashionable gown was almost transparent and revealed the perfection of her figure.

  The Duke had only a glimpse of it before she ran down the room, her arms outstretched.

  She threw herself against him and lifting her face to his looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with an expression of desire which he knew only too well.

  Then, before he could even speak, her lips were on his.

  She kissed him as he should have kissed her, passionately, demandingly, insistently.

  As he felt her soft body press closer and closer to him, it was impossible for him not to put his arms round her.

  It was only when she set him free that he managed to say:

  “I did not expect you to arrive from France so soon.”

  “But you are glad I am here. Tell me, dearest, that you are glad to see me!”

  He was aware that the seductive note in Isobel’s voice was somewhat contrived, but, at the same time, as her arms tightened round his neck he was aware that she was genuinely excited by his closeness and the kisses she had given him.

  “Oh, Ivar,” she went on before he could speak. “I have missed you. Paris was ghastly without you, despite the fact that the Prince de Conde paid me extravagant compliments and I had a dozen invitations for dinner every night.”

  With difficulty the Duke managed to extricate himself from her clinging arms, and walked towards the fireplace, saying as he did so:

  “I am not surprised, Isobel. You are certainly in very good looks.”

  “Every man I meet tells me that,” she said a little pettishly. “I want you to say that you have been dying without me.”

  “I am afraid that would not be true,” the Duke replied, “for the simple reason that I have been busy.”

  “Too busy to think of me?”

  Again she did not wait for him to answer, but said excitedly:

  “Oh, Ivar, now that I am here, there are so many things for us to do together! Although I wanted to dine alone with you tonight, I think we will have to go to Carlton House.”

  The Duke smiled.

  “I have just come from the Prince Regent and he has made my attendance at dinner a Royal Command.”

  Isobel laughed.

  “I thought he would do so. I dined with him last night and told him as a dead secret how much we mean to each other.”

  The Duke stiffened.

  “I think that was a mistake.”

  “Why?” Isobel asked. “Everybody I have met has spoken to me of their delight that you are now the Duke, and of the wonders of your Castle.”

  She looked round the room and said:

  “And this house is perfect for what w
e want in London. I have already seen the big Salon upstairs, and we can have at least one hundred and fifty people at our parties without it being a squeeze.”

  The Duke frowned.

  “I can hardly believe that you inspected my house, Isobel, when I was not here to show it to you.”

  “Darling, do not be so stuffy!” she replied. “I wanted to be quite certain that we should be happy here, although of course we would be happy anywhere. At the same time, I must have the right background in order to play the perfect hostess.”

  The Duke was silent for a moment while he sought for words to inform Isobel that he had no intention of marrying anyone at the moment.

  But the door opened and Gerald came in.

  “I thought I should have to apologise for having kept you waiting,” he said, “but Bateson tells me you have only just returned.”

  “That is true,” the Duke replied.

  Gerald crossed the room to raise Isobel’s hands to his lips, saying:

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  “I have been waiting for Ivar for over an hour,” Isobel replied, “but as I have just said, I have not wasted my time.”

  “What have you been doing?” Gerald asked, as she obviously expected him to.

  “I have been finding out that the house is perfect for us to entertain in, and I can see myself so clearly receiving our guests at the top of that very attractive staircase.”

  Gerald saw the Duke’s lips tighten, and he said:

  “You are taking your fences too fast, Isobel. I was informed only a few hours ago that as Ivar has much to do, he has no intention of marrying for years.”

  The Duke thought with an irrepressible smile that Gerald, ever since he became his friend, had always been prepared to come to his rescue in a tight corner.

  “That is true,” he agreed. “It will certainly be years before the Castle and the Estate are put to right and things are restored to what they were in the past.”

  There was silence, and Isobel looked from one man to the other.

  “What is all this?” she asked.

  Her voice now sounded a very different note, and she went on:

  “Is this a conspiracy between you two?”

  “Not in the least,” Gerald replied, “but it is always wise, my dear Isobel, to face facts, and the fact is that Ivar, for the moment, is not in the marriage-market.”