The Irresistible Buck

by Barbara Cartland

  “Uncle Roderick was interested in very different things from Papa,” Clarinda said. “I think I know every detail of every campaign that Marlborough fought and because he was so interested in wars I read to him nearly all the books we could find in French on that subject. We covered the history of France as well and, of course, everything we could possibly glean about Napoleon himself.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh.

  “I suppose you will think it regrettable that I can speak German and can follow Italian Operas without translation?”

  “Grandmama would be horrified!”

  “It is not fair,” Clarinda complained. “She is proud enough of you.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “She does not mind your having a brain,” Clarinda said resentfully.

  “How do you know I have one?” he enquired.

  “You achieved a degree at Oxford University and, when I sat next to General Sir David Dundas at dinner the other night, he told me that, if you had not left the Army, he was quite convinced that with your genius for tactics you had every chance of eventually becoming the Commander-in-Chief.”

  “Sir David was flattering me,” Lord Melburne demurred.

  “Have you not thought,” Clarinda said suddenly, “that the reason you become so bored with all the lovely ladies that gossip links you with is that they are incredibly empty-headed?”

  “Who said I was bored?” Lord Melburne asked sharply.

  Clarinda laughed.

  “Do you imagine that it is not common knowledge?” she enquired. “Why, they have bets below the stairs as to how long your latest ‘bit of muslin’ will last! The knife boy won the last pool because no one else imagined it would be over within a month.”

  “Clarinda,” Lord Melburne thundered. “How dare you repeat the servants’ tattle-tattle! And you should not even know the expression, ‘bit of muslin’, let alone speak of it.”

  “But it is true that you are bored. And it is not only because I have listened to servants’ gossip that I know about it. When we were at the Opera the other night ‒ you know how there is only a curtain dividing some of the boxes – I heard two gentlemen talking. One of them said, ‘that is the little love bird who interests me, the third from the right, the dark one with green eyes.’

  “‘The other man replied, ‘you will have to hurry, Harry, I saw Buck Melburne talking to her last night.’ ‘Damme,’ the first man exclaimed. ‘He always pips me at the post. He took Liane away from me. I swore I would get even with him for that’.”

  There was a pause in the conversation before Harry added,

  “‘He is never interested for long. And I find that quite useful not being as deep in the pocket as you are Buck. The ‘ladybirds’ are so distressed when Buck gets bored with them at being propelled back into circulation so quickly, that poor men like myself can pick them up at bargain prices!’”

  “Clarinda!” Lord Melburne said in an even angrier tone. “Did your extensive education ever include a good spanking?”

  “Papa always said,” Clarinda replied demurely, “that a man who had to use brute force instead of reason is a nitwit.”

  “Nitwit or not,” Lord Melburne said grimly, “if you drive me too far, you will be sorry!”

  She glanced up at him, saw the squareness of his chin and anger smouldering in his eyes and capitulated.

  “I have had a shaking from you, my Lord,” she said in a low voice. “I have no wish for another.”

  Then suddenly the blood rose in her cheeks as she remembered what had happened after he had shaken her.

  “Then don’t listen to such conversations,” Lord Melburne insisted reprovingly and in the tone of a man who is tried almost beyond endurance.

  “How can I help it?” Clarinda asked. “What you really mean is that I should not repeat them to you.”

  “No. I don’t mean that!” Lord Melburne contradicted her fiercely. “I want you to be very frank with me. What I would really dislike is if you were to lie to me. Somehow, Clarinda, I feel you would not do that.”

  “Of course I would not,” she retorted. “Why should I?”

  “No reason at all. I trust you to tell me the truth,” he replied. “But, then damn it all, you should not hear talk of ‘ladybirds’ and such like. You are an innocent debutante!”

  “A reluctant one, as you well know. But don’t talk about me, we were talking about you and why you get bored so easily.”

  “I will not discuss anything you have learnt by eavesdropping,” he said crushingly.

  “But you are often bored, are you not, my Lord?” Clarinda insisted, “But then I am not surprised. You were right about one thing, I find the Social world far more fascinating and amusing than I had expected. But I am convinced that a great number of the people in it are excessively stupid.”

  “You sound just as if you are as old and wise as Methuselah,” Lord Melburne said and almost despite himself there was an amused twinkle in his eyes.

  “Sometimes I feel that I am,” Clarinda replied. “I was watching a young man gaming the other night. He had won a small fortune and the mathematical chances against his continuing to win must have been astronomical. Yet he stayed at the table, playing and playing until he had lost the lot. Do you not think that was ridiculously foolish?”

  “I am becoming worried about you, Clarinda,” Lord Melburne said. “If you continue to be so critical, how shall Grandmama and I ever find a husband to please you?”

  There was a pause before Clarinda asked in a very small voice,

  “You would not – make me marry anyone I did not like?”

  “Of course not! I would never force any man upon you.”

  “Then I will be brave and tell you that however important socially a gentleman might be, I would never marry unless I was in love.”

  “Do you know what love is?” Lord Melburne asked.

  “No,” she answered. “Do you?”

  She then looked up at him with a hint of mischief in her eyes, as if once again she was deliberately trying to provoke him. But there was an expression in his grey eyes that made her suddenly become very still.

  They looked at each other, the firelight flickering on their faces and it just seemed to Clarinda that something that she had never known before passed between them. Something that awoke a strange feeling deep within her heart.

  It was exciting and thrilling and it made it hard for her to breathe.

  “Clarinda,” he asked very softly, “do you not think that we could be friends?”

  For a moment or two she carried on looking at him with her dark blue eyes very wide in her little heart-shaped face, the firelight glimmering on her hair and her lips parted.

  Then, it seemed to be with an effort, she looked away from him.

  “No! No!” she cried out. “There is – something that stops – me, that will always – stop me and you know what it is.”

  “Jessica Tansley,” Lord Melburne said almost beneath his breath.

  “Yes – Jessica,” Clarinda whispered.

  Then, before he could move, she had risen and ran as swiftly as a frightened fawn from the room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I thought we were to drive in Hyde Park this afternoon,” Clarinda said to the Dowager, as they set off in an open carriage from Berkeley Square.

  “That is what I had intended,” the Dowager replied, “but I had a note this morning from the Duchess of Devonshire asking us to tea this afternoon. Her Grace was so pressing that I thought it would be discourteous not to accept her hospitality.”

  “I am delighted you did,” Clarinda answered, “I am much looking forward to seeing Devonshire House.”

  “You will find it a page out of history. The Devonshires have played their part in this country’s affairs for so many generations that Devonshire House has become the focal point of every important political and national event.”

  “I noticed the Duchess at Carlton House,” Clarinda said. “S
he is very beautiful.”

  “And a compulsive gambler,” the Dowager added in a dry voice.

  “I often wonder what makes people gamble so feverishly,” Clarinda remarked almost to herself and then added, “I know the answer – it is because they are bored.”

  She thought of Lord Melburne and remembered their conversation of last night. He had been unexpectedly very kind, she thought. She had expected him to be incensed with her, but instead he had been understanding and even amused.

  At the same time Clarinda could not help hoping that the Dowager would not hear of the escapade. She would certainly not think it funny that the Duke of Kingston had been treated in such a cavalier fashion.

  Besides, Clarinda thought nervously, if the Dowager heard that His Grace had tried to kiss her, she would feel it was another step forward in her ambitions that he should declare his suit.

  “Who do you think might be at tea with the Duchess?” Clarinda asked, anxious not to pursue the trend of her own thoughts.

  “I have no idea,” the Dowager replied. “Were you hoping to meet anyone in particular?”

  She looked at Clarinda with shrewd eyes as she asked the question and Clarinda bit back an impulse to say that there was no one she particularly wanted to meet, but there was one person who she had no wish to see again and that was the Duke of Kingston.

  It was a short distance from Melburne House to the Devonshires’ magnificent residence in Piccadilly. The horses turned in at the great wrought-iron gold-tipped gates and drew up at the porticoed front door.

  “It appears to be quite a small party,” the Dowager remarked, looking around for other carriages as she stepped out of her own.

  Clarinda did not answer. She was already awestruck as they entered the hall by the huge curving staircase which divided into two wings at a landing where stood a gigantic marble statue.

  There were endless over-sized portraits of the Devonshires, each member of the family appearing, according to their sex, more handsome or more beautiful than the last and, when Clarinda and the Dowager had ascended the staircase, they entered the exquisitely furnished salon overlooking the garden where the Duchess was receiving her friends.

  With her red-gold hair, her pink and white complexion and chiselled features, Georgina, Duchess of Devonshire, was even lovelier than the many portraits that had immortalised her for posterity.

  Holding out her hand to the Dowager she moved forward with indescribable grace and kissed the older woman on both cheeks.

  “I am so delighted that you could come, ma’am,” she said effusively. “And I have been so looking forward to meeting the most talked of debutante of the Season, your grandson’s Ward.”

  She held out her hand to Clarinda, who sank down in a deep curtsey.

  “Come and tell me how much you enjoy being such a success,” she said beguilingly and Clarinda thought that she had never seen more expressive eyes in any woman.

  There was a number of distinguished people present and the Duchess presented Clarinda. Then, turning to a tall good-looking young man, whom she had introduced as ‘my husband’s nephew’, she suggested,

  “George, do take Miss Vernon and show her the garden. I am convinced that she would be more interested in seeing the flowers, which are really lovely this year, than in listening to the scandalous gossip that we old cronies are determined to indulge in.”

  Clarinda could not help smiling at the Duchess describing herself as ‘old’. She looked so vividly alive, so youthful with her flashing smile and quick movements that it was impossible to think of her as anything but a young girl.

  But Clarinda was far too shy to express such sentiments and obediently she followed the young gentleman whose features were clearly those of a Cavendish, down the staircase and out into the garden.

  “Are you enjoying yourself in London?” he asked conventionally.

  “Very much indeed,” Clarinda replied, “but I would not like to live in a City all the year round. I miss the freedom of the country and the chance of galloping a horse without feeling, as one does in Hyde Park, a fear of offending the conventions and, of course, the peace of a garden and meadows and fields.”

  “In which case, you are very unusual,” he said. “Most females have an insatiable desire for the balls, the parties and the excitement of London, but personally I agree with you, a little is enough.”

  They both laughed as if he had said something rather funny.

  Then, looking around at the flower beds all ablaze with blossom, the yew trees elegantly fashioned by topiary and the long green lawns smooth as plush and the great oak and lime trees, Clarinda exclaimed,

  “One might be in the country here!”

  As she spoke, she pulled her glove off her right hand to touch the velvety petal of a white rose.

  “It is indeed an oasis in the turmoil of a City which is growing bigger year by year,” Mr. Cavendish smiled. “I often feel that there will soon be no room for gardens unless one drives miles to find them.”

  “It would be so tragic,” Clarinda said, “if the great mansions like Devonshire House of which I have seen so many since I have been in London – should disappear. They have a grandeur and elegance all of their own.”

  “I see you have a feeling for such things,” Mr. Cavendish said earnestly. “Would you allow me, Miss Vernon, to – ”

  What he was about to say Clarinda never knew, for at that very moment she heard a step behind them. She turned round and then started wide-eyed and apprehensive.

  It was the Duke of Kingston who stood there, looking, Clarinda thought nervously, larger and more overpowering than ever.

  He was immaculately dressed, but his face was rather pink as if he had been hurrying.

  When he had bowed to Clarinda, he put a hand on Mr. Cavendish’s shoulder.

  “Your aunt is asking for you, dear boy. She asked me to tell you that she requires your presence immediately in the salon.”

  “I thank you, Your Grace. I will go to her at once,” Mr. Cavendish replied.

  He bowed to Clarinda. She saw the expression in his eyes and knew that he was telling her wordlessly how disappointed he was that they could no longer continue to converse.

  “Your servant, Miss Vernon,” he said politely.

  Then he was walking away across the green lawn, leaving her alone with the Duke.

  ‘This has all been arranged,’ she thought and looked up at him nervously.

  “I think – I owe Your Grace – an apology – ” she began, but before she could say more he reached out and took her ungloved hand in his.

  “You have spirit,” he boomed in his rather loud voice, “and I like women with spirit. I should be angry with you for serving me such a scully trick at Carlton House last night! But you captivated me from the moment I first saw you and now it would be impossible for me to do anything but love you,”

  “Please – Your Grace,” Clarinda pleaded shyly, trying to take her hand away from him.

  “You are entrancing,” he said. “I cannot kiss you here because it is too public, but I will talk to the Dowager and arrange that she brings you to dinner at my house tonight.”

  “It is not – possible. I am – sure we have another – engagement!” Clarinda cried, feeling that somehow he was overpowering her and sapping her resistance in an inexplicable manner and making her feel weak and defenceless.

  “We have a lot of plans to make – you and I, Clarinda,” the Duke smiled. “I have already spoken to the Prince of Wales and he says that the second of July will suit him well, before he goes to Brighthelmstone. Can you be ready by then? I promise you I shall be a very impatient bridegroom.”

  “I don’t – know what you are – saying,” Clarinda protested desperately.

  “I am talking about our Wedding,” he replied. “It will be a very grand affair, Clarinda. And the Queen will be present, also the King if His Majesty’s health permits and naturally the Prince will be my Best Man,”

  “Our ‒ Wed
ding!” Clarinda exclaimed breathlessly. “I am – afraid, Your Grace – you must d-discuss this with – my Guardian – Lord Melburne,”

  “You are being very conventional, my dear,” he replied, “and I like you for it. It is what I would wish my wife to be. But I can assure you that I can be conventional too. I have already spoken to Lord Melburne and he has given his permission to our marriage.”

  “He has – given his – permission!” Clarinda found that she could hardly enunciate the words.

  “But of course! Now there are no obstacles in our path, so let’s make plans accordingly for, as I have already told you, I am impatient, very impatient, to hold you in my arms.”

  “I c-cannot – I cannot – believe – ” Clarinda, began, stammering in her agitation.

  “That I love you,” he interrupted her. “My dearest, it is the truth. I fell in love with you at first sight.”

  “But – I cannot – ” Clarinda tried to say.

  “And now that you have promised to marry me,” the Duke continued, “I am returning immediately to Berkeley Square to tell your Guardian that the Ceremony will take place on the second of July and that you must be ready by then, for even if His Royal Highness had not approved the date, I could have waited no longer.”

  He raised Clarinda’s hand, which he had held in his while he spoke, to his lips and she felt his mouth hot, possessive and somehow greedy on the softness of her skin.

  With a little cry like that of a captured animal, Clarinda wrenched herself free of him and turning ran away across the garden.

  He watched her go with a smile on his lips.

  “So young, so unspoilt,” he said aloud. “It will be a pleasure to conquer her,” and as if Clarinda’s shyness had excited him, he walked slowly back to the house looking very pleased with himself.

  Clarinda reached the front door and realised that Lord Melburne’s carriage was not there. She knew that the coachman, expecting them to stay very much longer, would be walking the horses and, refusing a footman’s suggestion that he should call her a Hackney cab, she said quickly,

  “I will walk.”

  Ignoring the expression of astonishment on the servant’s face, she moved quickly across the courtyard and into Piccadilly.