“Thank you, my Lord,” Amalita murmured.
“In fact,” the Marquis went on, “I am only stating the truth when I say that I consider you both very beautiful! I only know that, if my old friend Sir Frederick was alive, he would be saying the same thing.”
CHAPTER THREE
Amalita came back to the house in Park Lane flushed with excitement.
She and Carolyn had spent a very successful morning in Bond Street and they had bought some gowns that were up to date and very attractive.
They quickly tidied themselves in their rooms before luncheon.
When Amalita went down to the drawing room where the Marquis was waiting for her, she said,
“I have enjoyed myself this morning. I did not know that gowns could be so enticing. Carolyn is going to look absolutely radiant at the first party she goes to.”
“I am sure of that,” the Marquis replied, “and what did you buy for yourself?”
Amalita smiled at him.
“I bought two gowns, my Lord,” she said, “that I hope you will think suitable.”
“I am sure I shall,” the Marquis said, “and I too have made a decision while you have been away.”
“About what?” Amalita asked.
“I have decided to introduce you to your husband’s friends,” he said, “here in the house.”
Amalita stared at him.
“Do you mean – a party?” she enquired.
“I mean a party and, of course, the young will want to dance. So my secretary is hiring one of the best orchestras available in London.”
“How kind you are! How very kind. I never imagined – you would do – anything like that for us.”
“I think it about time,” he said, “that I did something not only for you and Carolyn but also for my son.”
The way he spoke of the Earl made Amalita wonder if there was something strange about him that she had not noticed.
She waited, but the Marquis said no more.
At that moment Carolyn came into the drawing room.
“I hear you have been very extravagant, young lady,” he said to her.
“We have bought some really lovely gowns,” Carolyn answered, “and I hope you will think them very pretty.”
“I am looking forward to seeing them,” the Marquis smiled.
They went into the dining room, but there was no sign of the Earl and they lunched without him.
Afterwards Carolyn said that she wanted to go out into the garden.
“I do so hope you will find it attractive,” the Marquis answered. “I spend a lot of money in having a garden in London and I look forward to showing you my garden at Garle Park, which, even though I say it myself, it is truly magnificent.”
Thinking back to what her father had told her, Amalita said,
“I think that your country house is in the County of Hertfordshire, my Lord.”
“Yes, it is and it has been in my family for over four hundred years,” the Marquis told her. “Your husband used to enjoy staying there with me and, when you have seen it, I hope that you will feel the same.”
This was something that Amalita really wanted to do.
She not only thanked the Marquis but then asked him to tell her about his house and its contents.
They had by now moved from the dining room back to the drawing room.
Carolyn went into the garden and, when she had gone, the Marquis said in a serious tone,
“I want to talk to you, Lady Maulpin.”
Amalita sat down on the sofa, and he stood in front of the fireplace.
She thought he was thinking of how he should phrase what he wanted to say.
So there was a distinct pause before he began,
“I can see that you are very fond of your stepdaughter and she is undoubtedly exceedingly beautiful.”
“That is one reason why I was so eager to bring her to London,” Amalita replied.
“It would certainly be a mistake for her to be buried in the country,” the Marquis remarked. “And now that she is here I have a plan that I hope you will agree to.”
Amalita wondered what it could be.
She did not, however, say anything and so after a few moments the Marquis went on,
“You have met my son and, I expect, like all women, you find him very handsome?”
“Y-yes – of course,” Amalita agreed.
The Earl had dined with them the night before and she had seen again that cynical and mocking expression in his eyes.
It was as if he thought that she was taking advantage of his father in some way.
He had looked very striking in his evening clothes, but she had told herself once again that she did not really like him.
It was, however, something that she could certainly not say to his father.
She merely murmured,
“I-I am sure that your son is a great – success in the Social world.”
“That is true,” the Marquis said. “At the same time he has a good brain and I feel that he is wasting it and just enjoying himself when there are a great many other things he could do with his life.”
“What sort of things?” Amalita asked curiously.
“The Prime Minister has several times requested him to undertake missions in different parts of Europe,” the Marquis answered. “To the best of my knowledge, he has accepted two and I understand was very successful.”
There was a pause and after a moment he went on,
“I do not know for certain, but I rather suspect that he has refused these requests made by the Prime Minister for no other reason except that he wishes to spend his time in London.”
Amalita felt a little bewildered.
“Is there any reason why he should not?” she asked.
There was silence.
She knew that the Marquis was wondering whether he should answer her question or not.
Finally he said,
“I will be truthful, Lady Maulpin, and tell you that I am in fact very worried about my son.”
“For what reason?” Amalita enquired.
“The answer is the obvious one, cherchez la femme,” the Marquis replied.
He unexpectedly walked over the room and stood for a moment at the window.
Then he walked back to the fireplace.
“I know I may be an interfering old man,” he said at length, “but I cannot bear to see my son involved with a woman who is not worthy of him and whom I distrust.”
This was something that Amalita had not in the least expected and she was at a loss as to how to reply to him.
“The woman in question,” the Marquis went on, “is Lady Hermione Buckworth.”
Amalita raised her eyebrows.
“I am rather surprised that you have not heard of her,” the Marquis said.
“You forget, my Lord, I have been in the country,” Amalita murmured.
“Well then, now that you are in London you will most certainly hear about Lady Hermione. She is the daughter of the Duke of Dorset and married Lord Buckworth after her first Season. He is much older than she is and stays in the country while preferring not to know anything about his wife’s infidelities.”
Amalita was listening intently.
This was the sort of story that her father might have told her, but it would never have come from her mother.
“Lady Hermione,” the Marquis continued, “has set the whole of the Social world talking all about her outrageous behaviour and the way that she flouts convention.”
He gave a sigh before he added,
“I might have easily guessed that my son would find her amusing, as do most of the men from one end of St. James’s to the other.”
Now there was a bitterness in his voice and Amalita said,
“You said – that Lady Hermione is – married.”
“She is,” the Marquis replied, “but I have been told that Lord Buckworth is extremely ill and the doctors are saying that there is little chance of saving his life.”
“I am quite certain,” he was saying, “because I would be very foolish to think anything else, that Lady Hermione is determined to marry my son.”
“And does he want tomarry her?” Amalita asked.
“That I just don’t know,” the Marquis replied. “He has said a thousand times that he has no intention of marrying anybody until it becomes absolutely necessary for him to produce an heir.”
He gave an audible sigh before he said,
“Ever since David left Eton he has been pursued by women, but I have never known him to be serious about any of them. The majority, of course, have been married and there was no question of it being anything else but an affaire de coeur.”
“But surely,” Amalita argued, “if Lady Hermione is as outrageous as you say, your son would not consider her a suitable wife, seeing how distinguished your family is.”
There was silence before the Marquis replied,
“You may think that I am being imaginative, but if Lady Hermione becomes free, I suspect that she will find a way of trapping my son into matrimony even if he has no wish for her to be his wife.”
“How can she do – that?” Amalita asked curiously.
“I just don’t know,” the Marquis admitted, “but she is different from most women, and beneath a very beautiful face there is, I think, the cunning of the Devil!”
This was certainly very strong language and Amalita’s eyes opened wide before she asked,
“But – what can you do, my Lord?”
“What I want to do,” the Marquis answered at once, “is to marry my son to your stepdaughter!”
Amalita gave a gasp.
This was something that she had never anticipated.
‘It would, of course, she felt, be such a magnificent marriage socially as far as Carolyn was concerned.
Yesterday she had met the Earl.
It had never struck her that he might be the sort of man with Carolyn would dance with and enjoy herself.
He was older and obviously sophisticated.
In a way that Amalita could not explain, she was sure that he would consider her and Carolyn extremely dull and inexperienced and therefore of no interest whatsoever to him personally.
It all flashed through her mind.
Then, as she knew that the Marquis was waiting, she said,
“I am sure that if Carolyn did fall – in love with your son, it would be something that would have – pleased her father.”
“I know that,” the Marquis said, “and there is no one I would rather have as David’s wife than Frederick’s lovely daughter.”
“I cannot – help but think,” Amalita said tentatively, “that the Earl would think that Carolyn was too – young for him.”
“My wife was only seventeen when I married her,” the Marquis said, “and we were extremely happy. In fact I found her perfect in every way, except that she was able to give me only the one son when I would have liked half-a-dozen.”
Amalita laughed.
“All Englishmen feel like that and my husband was always sorry that he had no sons.”
“And you did not give him any?” he enquired.
There was a rather uncomfortable silence.
Amalita could not think of what to say until he went on,
“But, of course, you were married to him only for a short time. Your stepdaughter is young and I would like to have a good number of grandchildren before I die.”
“Of course you would,” Amalita said softly.
“What I am asking,” the Marquis continued, “is that you will help me and make Carolyn realise how lucky she would be to become the Marchioness of Garlestone. I, in my turn, will do everything I can to throw the two young people together.”
“Of course I will – help you,” Amalita replied. “But perhaps Lady Hermione is not as dangerous as you might think, my Lord.”
“Just wait until you see her,” the Marquis warned her. “Then you will realise exactly what I am up against. She is a woman who creates chaos wherever she goes.”
“Is she really very beautiful?” Amalita asked.
“Most men think so,” the Marquis answered, “but to me she is dangerous, as dangerous as a black panther in the jungle or a cobra hiding in the undergrowth.”
To Amalita it sounded exactly like a story in a book.
It could, she thought, have no relation to real life.
Yet she was intrigued and later, when they went up to dress for dinner, she said to Carolyn,
“The Marquis is so kind and I feel that we owe him a great debt of gratitude.”
“It is really wonderful of him to give a party for me,” Carolyn said. “I got one of the servants to show me the ballroom when I came in from the garden and it is most impressive with very fine pictures on the walls that I am sure Papa must have enjoyed when he stayed here.
“I should like you to see the pictures too,” Carolyn continued, “and, my darling Amalita, you do realise that it will not only be my first ball but yours too.”
Instinctively Amalita looked over her shoulder.
“Do be careful,” she warned. “If anyone heard what you were saying, they would think it very strange.”
Carolyn lowered her voice.
“It is very true,” she said, “and please, dearest, buy a beautiful, beautiful gown so that you will look lovely too.”
“I will do that,” Amalita replied. “At the same time, we have to concentrate on you. I want you to be very nice to the Marquis and also to the Earl.”
Carolyn laughed.
“Why are you laughing?” Amalita enquired.
“Because you can see quite clearly that the Earl does not think much of us,” Carolyn answered. “I was watching him when we were talking before dinner and I am quite certain he thought that he was being very condescending in even speaking to us.”
“I don’t think that is true,” Amalita said.
“It is,” Carolyn said positively. “And even if I am nice to him, I doubt if he will even notice me.”
Amalita thought that this was something she should have anticipated.
“Whatever your feelings,” she said quickly, “you must try for the Marquis’s sake. After all he talks as if we will be able to stay here forever and that would be much better than having a nasty cheap house of our own.”
“Of course it would,” Carolyn agreed, “and so I will most certainly try, but I think the Earl of Garle is a stuck-up man who dislikes girls.”
When they went downstairs to dinner, Carolyn looked entrancing. She was wearing one of the new gowns that they had bought in Bond Street.
“It seems rather elaborate for a quiet dinner at home,” Amalita admitted, “but it is always a good thing to try out a gown and not wear it for the first time on a very special occasion.”
The gown was, of course, white, with a bustle of white lace and chiffon at the back and the bodice with its puffed sleeves emphasised Carolyn’s very small waist.
Amalita could not help herself thinking that the Earl must have a heart of stone if he did not find her attractive.
They entered the drawing room where they were to meet before dinner.
To her surprise, there was not only the Marquis and his son but also several other people.
As she advanced to the fireplace, the Marquis said,
“David is entertaining some of his friends tonight. Let me introduce them to you, Lady Maulpin.”
There were two women and two men who did not seem to be related and yet they were obviously on intimate terms with one another.
The women were attractive and spectacularly gowned.
The men, who were about the same age as the Earl, seemed to Amalita to have a rakish air about them.
A few minutes after Amalita and Carolyn had arrived in the room, another man arrived.
He was very obviously a relation as he addressed the Marquis as “uncle”.
When he was being introduced, Amalita learned that his name was “Timothy Lambton”.
He was the son of the Marquis’s sister and he seemed to be younger than the other men, not exactly handsome but very pleasant-looking and he had a kind face.
He was obviously very impressed with Carolyn, who was standing beside the Earl.
Remembering her sister’s instructions, she was trying to talk to him.
Although Amalita could not hear just what they were saying, she had the idea that he was not very responsive.
Champagne was being handed round by the servants, and Amalita felt that it would not be long before dinner was announced.
She wondered if the Marquis had put Carolyn beside the Earl.
Then she thought it might be too obvious, considering that they were not a large party.
She saw the Marquis glance at the clock.
Then the door opened and the butler announced,
“Lady Hermione Buckworth, my Lord.”
Amalita turned round, curious to see the woman about whom she had already heard so much.
Whether the Marquis was right or not about her being evil, she was certainly beautiful.
Like herself Lady Hermione was dark and in her hair glistened a profusion of emeralds that matched her eyes.
Amalita had green eyes and they were the light and sparkling green of a mountain stream reflecting the buds of spring.
There was also a touch of gold in them that appeared to have come from the sunshine.
Lady Hermione’s eyes were green, but of a different shade.
Her eyes were the deep green of the emeralds that she wore in her hair and on her neck and they slanted up just a little at the corners.
And Amalita could understand why the Marquis had compared her to a panther or a cobra.
There was something most definitely strange, exotic and perhaps also wicked about her. It made her extremely alluring as well as being overwhelming.
The bustle of her gown was of green ostrich feathers and it struck Amalita at once that it was the sort of gown that Yvette would have worn.
It was certainly cut very low at the front and revealed rather than concealed her figure.
As she moved down the room, it was with the sinuous grace of a snake.
“Forgive me if I am late,” she said to the Earl, who had moved forward to greet her, “but I had a caller who would not leave me.”
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