Lovers in London

by Barbara Cartland

  As Lanthia stared at him in sheer astonishment, the door behind them opened.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Conté burst headlong into the room and faced the Marquis who was standing beside Lanthia.

  “I saw you coming out of my wife’s room!” he roared. “How dare you go in there? You have insulted me and I demand – ”

  The Marquis realised that the angry Spaniard was about to challenge him to a duel!

  Realising that disaster beckoned the Marquis, thought quickly of how to avoid a challenge. Not because he was frightened of facing the Conté in combat, but because duelling had been strictly forbidden by Queen Victoria.

  Duels did take place secretly in Green Park, but if it was discovered, the duellists were forced to go abroad into exile for a year or perhaps two.

  And that was something the Marquis did not wish for under any circumstances.

  Nor did he relish the scandal of being challenged by the Conté.

  He recognised immediately that the drama of two aristocrats from different countries confronting each other in a duel would inevitably reach the newspapers.

  He held up his hand and in a voice even louder and more aggressive than the Conté, he called,

  “Stop! You are making a mistake!”

  “I am not making a mistake and you are a liar!” the Conté snapped.

  “I have been shopping with this lady,” the Marquis asserted in a firm but quieter tone, “and I think it would be polite if I introduced you – ”

  He turned towards Lanthia, who was listening with eyes wide with horror.

  She was holding under her arm one of the parcels from the dress shop and clutching a letter, which had been waiting for her at the reception desk.

  As she had unlocked the door with her right hand she had held both the parcel and the letter in her left.

  The Marquis could read the name on the letter and speaking deliberately slowly he intoned,

  “Please allow me to present the Conté de Vallecas, who has clearly mistaken me for someone else and I would like you, Conté, to meet Miss Lanthia Grenville, who has paid me the great honour of graciously promising to be my wife!”

  For a moment the Conté, who had been bursting to interrupt him, was stunned into silence.

  “Your wife!” he repeated as if he could not believe what he had heard. “Has the elusive Marquis of Rakecliffe been captured at last? I do not believe it for a moment!”

  “I can assure you,” said the Marquis, “that I am the luckiest man in the world. But what I have just told you is a close secret and must not be revealed to anyone because we have not yet informed our relations.”

  “If you really expect me to believe that,” snarled the Conté, “you are very much mistaken. I demand, as I have every right to do, that you make reparation!”

  Again the Marquis held up his hand.

  “You forget yourself, Vallecas. You are now in the presence of a lady. If you really do wish to discuss your allegation, which as I have already said is completely and absolutely untrue, then we should do so when my fiancée is not present.”

  The Conté wavered.

  He believed the Marquis was lying, but at the same time as an aristocrat he could not degrade himself by being too offensive to someone of his own standing.

  “I will make you pay for this insult, Rakecliffe!” he growled.

  Then he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

  The Marquis drew a deep sigh of relief, knowing that he had been standing on the very edge of disaster and had saved himself by only a hair’s breadth.

  He turned towards Lanthia and speaking in his most charming voice, which most women found irresistible, he said,

  “Please forgive me, I would not have subjected you to this unpleasant scene if it was not a question of life or death.”

  “He – intended,” Lanthia murmured anxiously, “to challenge you – to a duel?”

  It was the first words she had spoken and her voice trembled.

  “You are quite right,” responded the Marquis, “that is just what he intended and he is notorious for his success in duels. In fact it is widely rumoured he has already killed two men.”

  Lanthia gave a cry of horror.

  “Then I am very glad you are now safe from him. But just suppose he tells everyone we are engaged?”

  “I think as a gentleman, albeit a Spanish one, he will stay silent, but it was the only way I could save myself from a most unpleasant duel. Moreover Her Majesty the Queen has very strictly forbidden duelling to take place.”

  Lanthia gave a sigh.

  Then as if she suddenly became aware she was still carrying a parcel, she put it down on a side table and laid the letter on top of it.

  “I was fortunate in being able to read your name on the letter,” admitted the Marquis. “I assume you really are Miss Lanthia Grenville.”

  Lanthia smiled.

  “Yes, that is indeed my name and it was lucky the letter from my mother was waiting for me downstairs.”

  “I was just wondering what I should call you, for of course if the Conté had found the name I gave you was not true, it would have added to his suspicions which I regret to say are already rampant.”

  “So you were visiting his wife?”

  “The Contessa, who is a charming lady, invited me to take tea with her. It is well known that her husband is frantically jealous and I would have been wiser to refuse.”

  “But do you think you are safe now?”

  The Marquis was silent for a moment and then he answered,

  “My old Nanny always used to teach me that one lie leads to another and I am afraid I am still in a desperate position unless you continue to help me.”

  Lanthia looked at him wide-eyed.

  He now realised for the first time that she was very attractive. In fact she was extremely beautiful in her own way, just as the Contessa was beautiful in hers.

  The Marquis walked to the window and stood for a moment looking down onto Portland Place.

  There were many carriages moving on the road and it reminded him that his own horses were waiting.

  He was, however, turning over in his mind what he should say to Lanthia, who had just taken off her gloves and was now removing her hat.

  Just as she set it down, the sunshine streamed in through the window and turned her hair to gold.

  ‘She is lovely, in fact more beautiful than any girl I have seen for a long time,’ the Marquis told himself.

  He turned towards her saying,

  “The way you can help me, if you would be so kind as to continue to do so – and it is difficult for me to express my eternal gratitude – is to attend a dinner party with me here tonight.”

  “A dinner party?” repeated Lanthia.

  “It is being given by a very close friend of mine, the Duke of Sutherland, and the Conté and the Contessa of Vallecas will be among the guests.”

  “You mean,” said Lanthia slowly, “that the Conté will think it strange if you are there without me.”

  “He will not only think it very strange indeed,” the Marquis replied, “but he will doubtless call me a liar again and challenge me to make reparation for what he considers to be an insult.”

  “Then what can you do?”

  “It is actually, Miss Grenville, a matter of what you will do! I am asking you to take pity on me and attend this party, which I think you will find very enjoyable and allay the Conté’s suspicions at least until tomorrow.”

  He was hoping as he spoke that the Contessa would have the intelligence to deny that he had been with her.

  She had undoubtedly undertaken a number of love affairs when her husband was absent and she had thought that today she would be safe from discovery and so she could consequently deny all his accusations.

  At the same time the Marquis thought that if he was indeed engaged, it would be highly unlikely that he would attend the Sutherland party without his fiancée.

  Even if
their engagement was a secret one it would still look suspicious to the Conté.

  He was a very dangerous man and the Marquis now realised that he needed to contrive somehow to convince him that he was speaking the truth.

  He could not imagine why he had been so foolish.

  He had been unbelievably tempted by Inez to come to her bedroom, but he should have refused even if there was only the slightest possibility of her husband returning earlier than expected.

  ‘I was a complete fool’, the Marquis told himself.

  Equally he had always taken risks in his life and as one of his friends had remarked about him,

  “There is no one quicker than Rake at getting into trouble and no one cleverer at getting out of it!”

  Speaking again in a voice he knew was appealing, he pleaded,

  “Please, Miss Grenville, save me. As I expect you know, it is always a mistake to upset or enrage our foreign visitors. Her Majesty is very anxious that we should be at peace with those of significance in Europe.”

  “I thought,” commented Lanthia, “that he was a most sinister looking man and you must be careful that he does not hurt you as he obviously intends to do.”

  “The first thing I have to do is to convince him that I was not endangering his relationship with his wife. He will be looking for you this evening and will be extremely suspicious if you are not there! So I can only beg you to accompany me to the Duke’s party.”

  “But surely the Duke will think it very strange?”

  “I have known the Duke for a long time and he is a good friend of mine. If I ask a favour of him, he will not refuse me.”

  He felt that Lanthia was wavering and so he put out his hand.

  “Please,” he pleaded again, “do not throw me to the wolves. Or in this case a very savage Spaniard!”

  Lanthia gave a laugh because she could not help it.

  “I will come to the dinner party,” she agreed, “but I only hope I will not do anything to make matters worse for you than they are already.”

  “On the contrary you will save me, Miss Grenville, and I can assure you that I shall be eternally grateful.”

  He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  “I must return to my own house and change into my evening clothes. I will collect you from here just before eight o’clock. That is when we are asked to arrive and I imagine dinner will be at half-past eight.

  “Please put on your very prettiest gown, I am certain that once everyone sees you they will realise why I wanted you to be my wife.”

  “I think from what the Conté was saying that you have a reputation of preferring to be a bachelor.”

  The Marquis thought that was rather clever of her and he replied,

  “You are absolutely right, Miss Grenville, or rather, may I call you, Lanthia? I must get used to calling you by your Christian name! I have a horror of marriage and I am determined to remain a bachelor until I am in my dotage!”

  Lanthia giggled.

  “I can now understand why the Conté became so incredulous when you introduced him to your fiancée!”

  “I believe I sounded reasonably convincing, but I will have to be even more convincing this evening. And I am totally banking on his behaving decently and keeping our engagement a secret.”

  Lanthia gave a little cry.

  “What shall we do if he tells everyone?”

  “I don’t think he will, Lanthia, as it would be too much of a cad’s trick and the Conté, unpleasant though he is, comes from one of the oldest families in Spain. No one can say he is not an aristocrat!”

  “Then our pretend engagement,” added Lanthia, as if she was working it out for herself, “need not be for very long.”

  “Shall we say for just as long as you stay here at The Langham?” suggested the Marquis.

  “I expect to leave here in two or at the outside three days.”

  “Then it will not require a great deal of acting! Let me thank you for being so kind and understanding and very much braver and more sensible than any other woman would ever have been.”

  He thought as he spoke he was very lucky that she had not simply denied what he had invented on the spur of the moment. She might easily have told both him and the Conté to leave her sitting room at once.

  Because he really was extremely grateful, he raised her hand to his lips.

  “You have been so wonderful already,” he told her, “and I am asking you to be even more wonderful tonight. I will try not to be more of a nuisance than I can help.”

  “I cannot believe this is really happening,” Lanthia sighed.

  He knew from the way she spoke that it really did seem to her like something out of a book or a scene from a play.

  “I am so very fortunate, Lanthia, to have found you. Now I must hurry as I need to write a note to the Duke and leave it on the way to my house.”

  He picked up his hat and walked towards the door.

  “Until ten minutes to eight,” he bowed, “and try to look even more beautiful than you do at the moment.”

  It was a compliment he would have made to any of the beauties with whom he was usually associated.

  He saw Lanthia’s eyes widen in surprise and then a faint colour came into her cheeks.

  ‘She is very young,’ he told himself as he walked down the stairs. ‘At the same time few young girls would have shown such self-control or would have behaved so well. I do believe we have really got the Conté guessing, even if he is not yet entirely convinced.’

  He was pondering that he had contrived so many harrowing escapes in his life, but this was easily one of the nearest.

  In the writing room on the ground floor of the hotel he wrote a quick note to the Duke of Sutherland.

  He told him that a young lady to whom he owed a great debt of gratitude had arrived in London unexpectedly and he would be eternally grateful if he might bring her to the party tonight.

  “I will explain more about it,” he ended, “the next time we are alone and I know the story will amuse you.

  Please grant me this favour.

  Yours,

  Rake.”

  He had known the Duke for many years and knew that the Duke was very fond of him. Consequently every autumn he stayed at Dunrobin Castle in Sutherland to shoot grouse.

  The Duke and his wife Anne were almost totally estranged from each other. Since the Duchess, as Mistress of the Robes to the Queen, joined the Court at Windsor Castle, he had become infatuated with various pretty women.

  The Duke was frequently part of the ‘fast set’ the Prince of Wales was so openly attached to, along with the very beautiful German born Duchess of Manchester who, it was said, had a number of distinguished lovers.

  The Duke of Sutherland owned four stately homes, a number of smaller houses and a million and a half acres of land.

  His London home, Stafford House, was well known as one of the most attractive houses in the city and was currently undergoing refurbishment and redecoration in several of the largest reception rooms.

  It was so impressive that Queen Victoria had once said to the Duke’s mother, Harriet, Duchess of Sutherland,

  “I come from my house to your Palace!”

  Tonight’s party at The Langham should have been held at Stafford House and the Marquis was well aware how unusual it was for the Duke to entertain anywhere other than under his own roof.

  The party in honour of an American the Duke had stayed with in New York came under threat when it became clear that the workmen would not have finished the magnificent new dining room in time for guests.

  As his visitor was only staying for two days in London, the Duke eventually abandoned the Stafford House plans and a dinner party for over fifty guests was arranged at The Langham.

  The Marquis’s chaise was waiting for him outside and he drove as fast as possible to Stafford House, where the groom handed in his note.

  Without waiting for an answer he drove on to his house in Park Lane and by the time h
e arrived it was after seven o’clock.

  It was with a sense of relief that the Marquis went straight up to his bedroom to change for dinner and his valet already had his bath arranged for him in front of the fireplace.

  When he had bathed and was dressing, he reflected that what had occurred this afternoon was something that had never happened to him before.

  He could not comprehend why the idea of saying he was engaged to Lanthia Grenville had suddenly sprung into his mind.

  He could have invented some other explanation as to why he was in a room alone with a pretty woman.

  He had hardly been given a chance to look at her before the Conté burst in.

  When he did he saw how young she was, but at the same time realised that she was quite obviously a lady.

  Even so, he thought, it might have been expected of him to be in the company of a pretty girl for very different reasons altogether.

  ‘I must have sensed instinctively she was a young lady,’ he told himself, ‘who might have been shocked and horrified at such a suggestion nor would she have looked the part!’

  Thinking it over, he was convinced that because she looked so young and, to use an unusual word, pure, the Conté had almost accepted the explanation that she was his fiancée.

  And definitely not just a pretty woman who for the moment he found desirable.

  It was difficult for him to put it all into perspective and yet the Marquis knew that he had to fully convince the Conté tonight that Lanthia really meant something to him.

  He would then, hopefully, desist from forcing him into a duel.

  At exactly twenty minutes to eight he hurried down the stairs. The butler and two footmen were waiting in the hall to open the door and help him into his closed carriage. One of the footmen handed the Marquis his tall hat and another placed his evening cape round his shoulders.

  Then the Marquis stepped into his carriage.

  His coachman already had instructions as to where to take him.

  *

  At The Langham Lanthia was quite certain she was living in a dream.

  Could it really be possible that these two men had burst into her sitting room?