“Buxworth will certainly be disappointed not to have seen you,” Lord Armitage replied, “and you would have enjoyed his horses. He has two superlative stallions I would like to own myself and several breeding mares that are exceptional!”
“I am sorry to have missed them,” the Duke said, “but unfortunately my sister and I must leave tomorrow as we have to hurry South.”
He thought this might tell Ilitta that he would be only too agreeable to take her to London if that was what she wished.
But still there was no response and Lord d’Arcy Armitage said,
“If you wish, I will arrange for a groom to take your letter to Buxworth. Across country he is only about seven miles from here, although it is double or nearly treble by road.”
“That is very kind of you,” the Duke said, having hoped that this was what his host would say.
He therefore rose to his feet saying,
“I would like to write the note now, if that is convenient.”
“Of course,” Lord d’Arcy Armitage agreed. “There is a desk in my study where you will find everything you require.”
The Duke looked at Ilitta.
“I think you ought to come with me and add your apologies to mine.”
She rose reluctantly, he thought, then she came to his side and they followed Lord d’Arcy Armitage from the room.
He led them across the hall into a large study where most of the wall space was covered in books, but which also displayed two very fine pictures by George Stubbs.
The Duke expressed admiration for them and Lord d’Arcy Armitage went into a long description of how he had bought one of them cheaply, as its owner had no idea of its value, while the other was a painting of his great-grandfather’s horse, which had won the Derby.
The Duke, while appearing to be interested, was thinking not of the pictures but of Ilitta, who was looking at the books and, he thought, seemed almost to have forgotten his existence.
At last Lord d’Arcy Armitage left them alone saying,
“I will order the groom to take the note as soon as you have it ready. If he sets off at once, he will be back before it is dark.”
“Thank you very much,” the Duke replied automatically. “I am sorry if it is a bother.”
“No bother at all, my dear Duke!” Lord d’Arcy Armitage said in his genial manner. “I am only too delighted that the fog did not prevent you from staying here tonight.”
He closed the door behind him and the Duke looked at Ilitta who had her back to him and said,
“I am tempted to use a hackneyed expression, ‘at last we are alone!’ It is certainly hard for me to speak to you in this house.”
She did not reply, but put the book she was holding in her hand back on the shelf and walked across the room towards him.
There was an expression on her face he did not understand, but he said quickly,
“Don’t be worried! Everything is perfectly all right. We will leave early tomorrow morning and go wherever you wish.”
She parted her lips as if to speak, but before she could do so the study door opened and the Comtesse came into the room.
“You are taking a long time to write one small note,” she said, “unless of course, it contains expressions of love!”
She moved with a sinuous grace towards the desk adding,
“I have something very important to show you in the picture gallery and it is a pity to waste any more time.”
“I am not wasting my time,” the Duke replied, “and, because your father has been with me, I have not yet written my note to Buxworth.”
He sat down at the desk as he spoke and, picking up a pen, added,
“I will come to the drawing room later, Comtesse, and then you can show me the pictures you have in mind. But for the moment I must be polite and do my duty.”
The Duke thought that he had made it quite clear that he did not want her presence, but she merely gave a provocative little laugh and said,
“Oh, ‘duty’ is such a dull word! I will show you how to write a letter of love!”
It was the sort of comment the Duke was used to hearing, but not in front of Ilitta.
As he expected, she had moved away from the desk as soon as the Comtesse came to his side and he thought that she would return to her perusal of the books.
Instead of which, she moved so swiftly that it took him by surprise, reached the door and opened it and even as he called out, “stop, Ilitta! I want your help!” she had closed it behind her.
Having written the note while listening to the Comtesse’s blandishments as he did so, the Duke left the study.
He reached the hall and found that the butler was waiting to take the note from him saying as he did so,
“The groom’s outside, Your Grace.”
As the Comtesse was beside him, there was nothing the Duke could do but follow her into the drawing room where he found to his consternation on entering it that there was no sign of Ilitta.
He had the idea that she would have gone to her bedroom, but it was impossible to follow her without being rude to the Comtesse until it was time to change for dinner.
As he went up to dress, he told himself that it had been a terrible mistake to bring Ilitta here and if he had any sense he should have taken her immediately to stay with his mother.
At the same time he had not foreseen that his real name would have had such an effect on her or that the pleasure that she had obviously felt at being in his company, even if it was nothing more personal, should disappear so quickly.
His own valet who had come with the brake was now looking after him and because he was thinking about Ilitta he said,
“Hanson told you, I know, that the young lady with me is, as far as his Lordship and anyone else in the household is concerned, my sister, and there must be no suspicions that it is not the truth.”
“Course not, Your Grace,” the valet replied, “and we’ve all carried out Your Grace’s orders and nothing’s been said except what a pretty young lady she is!”
The Duke gave a sigh of relief.
He blamed himself again for being so foolhardy as to bring Ilitta here.
Although Lord d’Arcy Armitage was unlikely ever to meet his real sister, there might be all sorts of repercussions he had not anticipated.
‘The sooner we can go away the better!’ he told himself.
Then he wondered how he could reassure Ilitta that once they were on their own everything would be all right.
There was a knock on the door and his valet, going to open it, had a conversation with the footman outside.
Then he came back to say,
“I’ve been asked to tell Your Grace that Lady Georgina’s has a headache and asks if you’ll make her Ladyship’s excuses as she’ll not be dining downstairs this evening.”
“A headache?” the Duke exclaimed.
He was determined to talk to Ilitta and find out what was upsetting her.
After all, he told himself, there was no reason why he should not go to his sister’s room.
He finished dressing, thinking irritably that the Comtesse would make the very most of having him to herself.
He also had the uncomfortable suspicion that, when the guests had left, she would expect a great deal more than he wished to give her.
‘I have a good mind to leave after dinner!’ he muttered to himself.
Then he knew it was impossible to take his horses out on a dark night when there was no moon in a strange part of the country where he did not know the way.
He was therefore feeling unusually frustrated as he walked along the passage that led to the main stairs.
He had sent his valet ahead of him to find the maid who was looking after Ilitta and, as he reached the landing, he saw an elderly woman in a white apron and starched cap coming towards him.
“I understand, Your Grace, that you wishes to speak to her Ladyship.”
“Yes, I do!” the Duke replied firmly.
“Her L
adyship’s havin’ a bath at the moment, Your Grace, and she says perhaps you could come and say goodnight to her later.”
She was not a very perceptive woman, but she was nevertheless surprised at the way the Duke’s eyes seemed to light up and the manner in which he smiled before he replied,
“Tell her Ladyship I will do that.”
He went downstairs thinking that everything would be all right once he could talk to Ilitta alone.
For the first time it struck him that the reason why she was not coming downstairs to dinner was that, as she obviously lived in this part of the world, she was afraid that one of Lord d’Arcy Armitage’s guests might recognise her.
It was something he should have thought of himself and it passed through his mind that ever since he found that he was in love he had been behaving very foolishly.
He was actually, although it seemed incredible, forgetting his usual efficiency that ensured he never made a mistake.
The dinner party was exactly as he had expected.
The majority of the guests were men who spent their lives on Racecourses and, while they might own very fine and well-bred horses, appeared inevitably to have somewhat dull wives.
The Comtesse sparkled like a diamond amongst them and, the Duke thought, that she was just as hard as that precious stone.
She was certainly witty and the other men eyed her either roguishly or warily, whilst the women looked on with dislike.
She made it quite clear, however, where her interest lay.
Sitting next to the Duke at dinner, she made every effort to prevent him from talking to anybody else and tried to keep him away from the subject of horses.
She partially succeeded and the Duke, who was beginning to find her tiresome, had his revenge later by keeping the gentlemen in the dining room talking of racing for over an hour-and-a-half after the ladies had withdrawn.
He was pleased to find that because some of the guests had quite a long distance to drive before they reached home most of them wanted to leave early and the party broke up before midnight.
Even so, it seemed to the Duke that the hours passed very slowly before he could see Ilitta.
Never in his whole life could he remember being so anxious to be with a woman who was not equally eager to see him.
Before he could go upstairs, however, he still had to contend with the Comtesse.
As Lord d’Arcy Armitage went into the hall to say goodbye to the last of his guests the Duke and the Comtesse were alone in the drawing room.
She came nearer to him and said in a low seductive voice,
“It has been impossible to talk to you alone tonight with all these people here. My room is just across the passage from yours.”
The desire burning deep within her slanting eyes and the manner in which her red lips curved over the words made it impossible for him not to understand what she wanted.
It struck him that in the past this was exactly what he would have expected to happen and what he would have been churlish to refuse.
But all he could see was Ilitta’s childlike innocent eyes looking up into his and the dimple at the side of her mouth that had never been kissed.
He knew too, that the heavy exotic French perfume the Comtesse was using made him long for the spring-like fragrance of Ilitta’s hair that he had kissed last night without her being aware of it.
Even to think of the softness of her body against his made him want her with such an overwhelming desire that he was astonished at the violence of it.
Never in all his numerous love affairs had he felt as he felt now for a young girl to whom he meant nothing but somebody trustworthy and protective.
He was spared from having to reply to the Comtesse’s invitation as her father came back into the drawing room.
“I hope you have enjoyed the evening, Duke,” he said, “and now may I tempt you with a night-cap?”
The Duke politely refused and, as Lord d’Arcy Armitage poured one for himself, he explained,
“As it happens, I was extremely uncomfortable last night on a very hard mattress and I am very tired. But let me thank you for a very pleasant evening before I fall asleep.”
He smiled as if he had said something amusing and then raised the Comtesse’s hand to his lips.
“Goodnight, Comtesse,” he said. “Perhaps we shall meet again in London when I am not so fatigued.”
Then he turned away, but not before he had seen the expression of anger and frustration in her slanting eyes.
He crossed the hall and went up the stairs quickly, determined to say goodnight to Ilitta, but hoping that the Comtesse, at any rate, would not be aware of it.
He knew that she thought of Ilitta as being his schoolgirl sister and therefore of no consequence.
At the same time the Duke had learnt from long experience that women could be very perceptive about each other.
As the Comtesse was at this moment doubtless extremely annoyed with him, he did not want her to avenge herself on Ilitta, however young she might appear to be.
He reached her door, knocked gently and turned the handle.
As he expected, she was in bed and there was a lighted candle beside it.
He walked across the room and saw, as he reached her, that she was asleep.
She was sleeping on her side as she had last night, but now her cheek was against the white linen pillow and her golden hair fell over it and over her shoulders outside the sheets.
It was a large bed with curtains hanging from a gold corolla and the Duke thought that she looked very frail and insubstantial, not like the Spirit of Spring, which he had thought her to be earlier this morning, but more like the Princess in a Fairytale.
He stood looking down at her, wondering what she would feel if he woke her with a kiss.
Then he told himself that she was sleeping because she had been through a very exhausting experience and it had undoubtedly taken its toll.
There had been first her fear of the man in the inn, which had brought her to him for protection, and then Captain Daltry’s behaviour that would have terrified most women into fits of hysterics.
Their escape had been highly dramatic, but in spite of the nervous strain she had played her part with a calmness and intelligence that had astounded him.
Looking down at her now, it seemed extraordinary that anyone so young and inexperienced could have taken what had happened in her stride.
She had not complained, screamed or fainted, which he was quite certain any other woman of his acquaintance would have done.
‘She is unique!’ he told himself and longed to wake her up and tell her so.
Then, for the first time in his life, the Duke put his own desires aside and thought selflessly of someone he loved.
‘Let her sleep,’ he thought. ‘There is always tomorrow and, thank God, we shall be alone!’
He bent down and very gently, so as not to disturb her, he kissed her hair as he had done last night without her being aware of it.
Again there was that scent of flowers which he could not put a name to.
Then he stood looking at her, thanking God that he had found her and knowing that she was everything that would fit into his life. It was as if they had been made for each other, which he believed in his heart they had.
‘You are mine!’ he said in his heart. ‘Mine and I will love you and adore you for the rest of my life.’
He blew out the candle and, groping his way across the room, closed the door very quietly behind him.
*
The Duke lay awake for a long time thinking of Ilitta and how lucky he had been to have found her.
How could he have imagined, he asked himself, that a fog could change his life so completely that he felt he was no longer himself but some stranger whom he had to get to know through Ilitta’s eyes rather than his own?
When he did sleep he dreamed a strange dream in which he was pursuing her over rooftops and down coal mines, but always unable to catch up with her.
>
He was just thinking despairingly that she was riding a horse that was too fast for the one on which he was following her, when he was awoken by his valet pulling back the curtains.
“Eight o’clock, Your Grace!”
“Eight o’clock?” the Duke repeated. “I must get up. I want to leave here before nine.”
“Hanson asked me to tell Your Grace that he’s collected the phaeton and there was no trouble about it.”
The Duke smiled.
He had instructed Hanson last night that he and his other coachman were to drive over to Mr. Newall’s house and pick up the phaeton at dawn.
He was quite certain by this time after their escape that Captain Daltry and his conspirators would not have hung about.
They would have gone back to London realising that there was nothing to do but accept their losses and hope he would not take legal action against them.
If he was right in his supposition that they would have cleared out, it would be easy for his own servants to pick up the phaeton and bring it here for him to use today.
He thought with satisfaction that his first change of horses was only about twenty miles away from Lord d’Arcy Armitage’s house.
Therefore the extra journey they had taken at dawn would not overtire his team as they had thoroughly rested.
Everything was going according to plan, the Duke thought, as he bathed then dressed in the clothes that had been on the brake and which made him look extremely smart.
His boots had such a shine on them that they seemed to reflect like mirrors.
“Where shall we be meeting Your Grace tonight?” the valet enquired as he helped him into a very smart jacket that had only recently been delivered by his tailor.
“I will let you know that after I have discussed it with Lady Georgina,” the Duke replied.
There was a little pause and then the valet replied,
“I thought Your Grace was aware that her Ladyship had left!”
“Left?” the Duke exclaimed and the word rang out like a pistol shot.
“Her maid informs me when I were downstairs that her Ladyship rang her bell at six o’clock this morning and, when she was dressed in a habit she’d borrowed, she’d gone to the stables.”
The Duke did not speak and after a moment his valet went on a little nervously,
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