Lovers in London

by Barbara Cartland

  Nor that she had been taken to a dinner party by a man whom she had never met until he burst suddenly into her sitting room!

  But now that the Spaniard had told the Prince of Wales they were engaged, things were very different.

  She had even been asked to Marlborough House for luncheon and she could hardly pretend that it had happened quite casually.

  How could she keep it all a secret from her parents, if the Prince of Wales was present at the Lord Lieutenant’s ball?

  He would undoubtedly speak to her and before he did so she would have to explain to her parents how she had met him.

  ‘It is all becoming too complicated,’ she thought, ‘and I wish Mama was here to sort out the whole puzzle for me.’

  When she finally climbed into her bed, she was still thinking of what she should say to Mrs. Blossom and more importantly, what she should say when she returned home.

  There was no doubt that the Marquis was extremely popular.

  As they had walked around the dining room when dinner was over, everyone present had seemed pleased to see him.

  “Hello, Rake,” most of the gentlemen had called to him, followed by, “I thought I should see you here. What are you up to? Or is that an indiscreet question?”

  They laughed as if they had made a good joke and the Marquis had made some light reply.

  It all seemed in Lanthia’s recollection so very much more vivid than any of her most outlandish dreams.

  The brilliance of the dining room was unreal and so were the glamorous ladies glittering with diamonds, rubies and emeralds in their hair and round their necks.

  And there was the Prince of Wales himself sitting beside the beautiful Lillie Langtry.

  ‘I cannot believe I am really seeing this,’ she had said to herself.

  When she looked at the Marquis, she felt that he too was not really human. He was a hero who had stepped out of one of the novels that her mother had said she was too young to read before she was eighteen.

  ‘It was real, it really was!’ Lanthia now told herself as she turned over on her pillow.

  Then once again she imagined she was listening to the music being played in the hotel courtyard until she fell asleep.

  *

  She woke early in the morning and dressed before she went into Mrs. Blossom’s room to see how she was.

  She expected that she would come into the sitting room as they had agreed they would have breakfast at eight o’clock.

  However, when she entered Mrs. Blossom’s room, it was in darkness.

  She thought she was fast asleep until a husky voice from the bed asked,

  “Is that you, Lanthia?”

  “Yes it is. I do hope you had a good night.”

  “I am afraid, my dear, that I do believe I have now contracted a touch of influenza. I started to cough in the night and, although I took some pills, I know that I have a temperature, so I really should stay in bed.”

  “Of course you must,” exclaimed Lanthia. “I will order you some breakfast, because I am sure you will feel better if you have a cup of coffee or some tea, but you must not get up.”

  “But what about you, Lanthia?”

  “I shall be fine. I will engage a Hackney Carriage to the shop and arrange for it to wait while I have a fitting for my gown and then I will come back to the hotel.”

  “You don’t think you should ask one of the maids to go with you?” suggested Mrs. Blossom.

  “I shall be quite all right. Mama would not like me to walk about the streets alone, but if I go in a carriage and come back in one, there should be no harm in that.”

  “I suppose not,” agreed Mrs. Blossom in a worried tone. “Please, my dear, stay in your room as much as you can, I am sure I shall be better tomorrow.”

  “You don’t think you should see a doctor?”

  “No, of course not. I am not as bad as that. I have had these attacks before and if I take the right pills, it will all be over in twenty-four hours.”

  She spoke optimistically, but as Lanthia drew back the curtains she saw that the older woman looked pale and rather drawn.

  She did everything she could, tidying the room and ordering breakfast.

  Mrs. Blossom promised to try to eat something, but Lanthia knew at once that all she really wanted was to be able to rest and if possible sleep.

  Her condition certainly made matters much easier as far as she was concerned and she fervently hoped that Mrs. Blossom would not realise that she had gone out to luncheon.

  As soon as she had finished her breakfast she went downstairs and as she had promised Mrs. Blossom, she took a Hackney Carriage to the shop where her evening gown was to be fitted.

  She told the driver to wait to take her back to the hotel.

  A great deal of work had been done since she had chosen the dress yesterday. In fact the vendeuse said it would be ready in two hours time.

  Suddenly Lanthia wondered if the Marquis might want her to dine with him tonight. If so, she had nothing elegant to wear except the gown she had worn last night.

  There were two other gowns that she had hesitated over before she chose the one that was being altered. They were both up-to-date and not to be compared in any way with the simple dresses she had brought to wear when she was alone with Mrs. Blossom.

  Feeling that she must not let the Marquis down if they had to go to another party tonight, she bought both dresses hoping that her father would not be annoyed at the expense.

  It was fortunate that yesterday she had bought a day dress, which she considered very pretty, and the second one she had chosen had already been altered.

  She could take it back with her now.

  ‘At least I shall be correctly dressed for the lavish occasion at Marlborough House,’ she thought.

  The dress was very becoming. It was the pale blue of forget-me-nots and accentuated the perfection of her skin and the gold of her hair.

  It was a young girl’s dress, but at the same time it was fashionable enough to compete with anything an older and more sophisticated woman would be wearing.

  *

  In one of the pretty hats she had bought yesterday, Lanthia waited patiently until just before half-past twelve for the Marquis.

  She had called in to see Mrs. Blossom on her return from the shop and when she entered the room she saw that her chaperone was fast asleep.

  Lanthia rather suspected she had taken a little more of the laudanum than she should, but decided that at least it prevented her from asking any awkward questions.

  When she realised that there was nothing more she could do, Lanthia walked back to the sitting room.

  She rather expected that the Marquis might send a message saying that he was waiting for her downstairs.

  Instead, as she had left the door of the sitting room ajar, he walked straight in.

  “Good morning, Lanthia,” he called cheerily and as he spoke he was looking at her critically.

  On his way to The Langham he had wondered if, in fact, Lanthia would look correctly dressed for Marlborough House.

  He vaguely remembered that she had not been looking particularly smart yesterday when he had burst into her sitting room to save himself from the Conté, although she had certainly looked lovely and perfectly gowned last night.

  In his long experience of women he often found that while at night they ‘got away with it,’ so to speak, in the daytime they made lamentable mistakes.

  Especially if they were not really a member of what was known as the Beau Monde.

  But Lanthia in her blue gown and smart little hat looked exactly as if she had stepped out of a picture book.

  Or, as the Marquis said to himself, ‘a fairy tale.’

  He had retired to bed last night thinking she was without exception the loveliest girl he had ever seen.

  In the morning light he had felt more cynical, as he could not help wondering if it was just because she had saved him by being so obliging, that he had found her so exceptional.


  Perhaps on closer inspection today he might be a little disappointed.

  He was, in fact, although he would not admit it to himself, feeling rather nervous about their visit today to Marlborough House.

  He knew the Spaniard had, out of sheer spite, told the Prince of Wales he was secretly engaged.

  Firstly, because he had asked him to keep it a secret.

  Secondly, because he knew that the Prince of Wales would be annoyed at anyone hearing a secret about one of his special friends before it was told to him.

  Thirdly, if the Conté still suspected it was untrue, then the Marquis would undoubtedly find himself in deep trouble and would receive a Royal rebuke.

  All this flashed through the Marquis’s mind as he enquired,

  “Is everything all right? What of your chaperone? What have you told her?”

  “She is in bed with a high temperature and at the moment fast asleep.”

  “That is surely lucky for us,” he exclaimed. “Once again the Gods are on our side!”

  “We must hope so, but I am somewhat concerned about what you will say when you have to tell everybody I have gone back to the country and it is unlikely we shall ever see each other again!”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “I shall merely recount, dolefully, that you thought I was too frivolous and far too interested in other women to make you a good husband. You therefore have thrown me over and of course I am broken-hearted!”

  The way he spoke made Lanthia laugh.

  “Now you are just making it a fairy tale,” she said, “and I have a feeling no one will believe you.”

  “They will if I tell them the story convincingly! Naturally, to assuage my dismay at being thrown over by you, I can explore a part of the world I have not been to before!”

  “Oh, that is most unfair!”

  “Why?” enquired the Marquis.

  “Because it will be wonderful for you, while I shall be left behind to imagine I am exploring somewhere no one has ever ventured, as I ride through the woods.”

  “Why the woods, Lanthia?”

  “Because that is where I always tell myself a story and I do in my mind what you actually achieve with your whole being.”

  She gave a deep sigh.

  “Oh, why was I not born a man?”

  The Marquis looked at her quizzically and realised she was speaking sincerely.

  “I think that a great number of men in your life, Lanthia, will be only too delighted you have been born a woman. Think how amusing it will be when you have them at your feet, begging you for just one kind word or even a consoling kiss because you have refused to marry them.”

  He was now saying the first words that came into his head.

  Then, as if she had taken him seriously, she replied,

  “I have met very few men in Huntingdonshire, for we have been in mourning for a year for my grandfather and that has seemed a very long time.”

  “Well, now I am taking you out for luncheon and I am sure you will meet at least two or three men, but they may not all be unattached.”

  Lanthia quickly looked at the clock.

  “We must not be late.”

  “No, of course not, now come along – my chaise is outside and I have an idea that you would like to look at my horses.”

  Lanthia’s eyes lit up.

  “Have you some really good stallions?”

  “I shall be quite annoyed if you don’t think so and incidentally, while you were talking about your horses last night, I omitted to tell you that at this very moment my horse is the favourite for the Gold Cup.”

  Lanthia clapped her hands.

  “That is just so exciting! Oh, please, please can I see him before I have to go away and pretend I have never met you?”

  “I am sure that can be arranged.”

  They went downstairs to find the Marquis’s chaise drawn up in front of the entrance.

  He expected Lanthia to climb in, but first she ran to the horses’ heads.

  She thoroughly inspected the pair he was driving before she finally got into the chaise.

  “You are quite right, they are magnificent animals and you must be very proud of them.”

  “They are my new acquisitions, but I have in the stables a team of four I would like you to see, because they are perfectly matched and look very impressive in front of my travelling carriage.”

  Lanthia did not say anything.

  After a moment as they were driving down Regent Street, the Marquis asked,

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “I was only thinking, as I did last night, how very different you are from what I expected.”

  “You mean because I am an explorer and because I love horses.”

  “Yes, both those things, and I am rather surprised I did not realise at once that you are not just what Papa calls ‘a man about town’.”

  “I should be most insulted,” asserted the Marquis, “if anyone thought I had no other interests.”

  “I don’t want to be rude,” said Lanthia hesitantly, “but it is because you don’t look like an explorer!”

  “What do explorers look like?”

  “Like pictures I have seen of Mr. Richard Burton or they have long beards and rugged faces, and of course their skin has been burned by the blazing sun until they hardly look like a white man.”

  The Marquis chuckled.

  “I think you must have been reading too many story books. Explorers today travel far more comfortably than in the past. Even so I have had my moments, when I have either been dripping with heat or freezing with cold.”

  “That is just what I want you to tell me all about. I do wish we did not have to go to this luncheon party and make polite conversation.”

  The Marquis was amused.

  He could not think of any other woman who would not be in ecstatic raptures at the idea of having luncheon at Marlborough House with the Prince of Wales.

  Yet he felt at once Lanthia was sincere in preferring to hear about the discomforts that everyone endured if they were exploring in an unknown part of the world.

  He could remember times when he felt desperately uncomfortable and when he thought that the last moment of his life had come and he could not be saved.

  Yet he had survived.

  He had to acknowledge that while he relished every difficulty and danger of the unknown, he also enjoyed the comforts and luxuries with which he could indulge himself at home.

  Especially when he could enjoy them with someone soft and beautiful, who could ignite in him a burning fire as the Contessa had succeeded in doing yesterday.

  There was no doubt that she was a past master at exciting a man physically.

  He would have been untruthful if he said he had not enjoyed every moment of the time he had spent with her and he had only himself to blame for having taken such a ridiculous risk.

  He therefore harboured no wish for this pretty child beside him to suffer any further because of his stupidity.

  Of course he had been idiotic not to make sure, knowing his reputation, that the Conté would not return to the hotel earlier than his wife expected. It was the sort of thing he would do, simply because he wished to catch her unawares.

  The Conté might be laughed at for his jealousy, but the Marquis knew he had good reason for it.

  He was obviously not the first man the Contessa had captivated with her green eyes and seductive voice.

  Now having made such a fundamental mistake, the Marquis knew that he had to extract himself and, of course, Lanthia, from what could become an embarrassing disaster.

  Now he had discovered who she was, the Marquis had an uncomfortable feeling that Sir Philip Grenville and his wife might insist on his saving her good name.

  To put it simply, they would put pressure on him to offer her marriage.

  ‘She is pretty, amusing, and quite unlike any other girl I have ever met,’ the Marquis thought as he drove on. ‘At the same time I refuse to be married a
nd nothing and nobody will force me to do so!’

  Lanthia was quietly observing his driving and felt that he was most definitely an expert. She knew that she would have nothing in common with any man who did not love horses and who could not manage them.

  Her father had always been an outstanding rider and she herself had ridden almost as soon as she could crawl.

  She was thinking that the Marquis must be a good judge of horseflesh to have chosen the pair he was driving and also to have a favourite running at Ascot.

  ‘He is so very good-looking,’ she told herself. ‘But there is something about him which makes me feel as if there is a barrier between us.’

  Then she realised what it was – it was his revulsion and fear of being married.

  Although they were only pretending to be engaged, even that had made him shy away from her as a horse might do.

  ‘He is perfectly safe,’ she told herself. ‘If he thinks that I am going to fall in love with him, he is very much mistaken!’

  Last night at dinner she had not missed the number of ladies who had spoken to him in a way that told her that they found him very very attractive.

  When she saw the Contessa looking at him, it was quite obvious what she felt for him and perhaps the Conté was right in thinking he had indeed made love to her.

  The Contessa had been far too clever last night to attempt to speak directly to the Marquis and yet she could not prevent herself from gazing at him from time to time.

  Innocently Lanthia had intercepted her glances and if the Marquis was really convinced that the Contessa had something tigerish about her, she had felt the same.

  She could almost feel the Contessa reaching out to the Marquis, her hands like claws seeking to clutch him.

  Lanthia thought she was definitely eerie and rather frightening and this opinion helped her to understand to some extent why the Marquis should be running away from the idea of marriage.

  Any woman who became his wife would be much too possessive. She would attempt to imprison him just as he wanted to go exploring and needed to be free.

  ‘I understand,’ she thought, ‘I do understand and I would like to tell him that he need not be afraid of me.’

  She knew, however, it was something she could never say.