06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection)

by Cartland, Barbara

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  The Penniless Peer

  Chapter One 1817

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

  THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND

  Copyright

  The Penniless Peer

  Eighteen-year-old Fenella is a mischievous as her freckled elfin beauty and feline green eyes suggest – but beneath that puckish charm she hides her ardent desire to do all in her power to make her beloved cousin Periquine, Lord Corbury, happy.

  When to her chagrin the dashing Lord returns from the Napoleonic War after fighting with Wellington, penniless and passionately in love with another – a woman of great wealth and even greater beauty, whom he cannot marry without wealth of his own, Fenella sacrifices her private passion to his wellbeing.

  Laying her life and her love on the line, she joins Periquine in a swashbuckling and death-defying life of crime as highwaymen, robbers and smugglers. Will their exploits reap the riches he needs? And will Fenella’s all-conquering love remain unrequited? Only when Perequine faces losing her forever will he find the answer in his heart...

  Chapter One

  1817

  “Kiss me, Hetty, kiss me again!”

  “No — Periquine — I ought to go.”

  “You cannot go - you must stay with me! I have been waiting for so long to see you alone,”

  There was silence while Lord Corbury kissed Hetty so passionately that she could hardly breathe.

  “Dear Periquine,” she murmured after a moment, “I love you when you kiss me like that.”

  “And I love you,” he said in his deep voice. “When are you going to marry me, my darling?”

  “Oh Periquine!”

  He loosened his hold on her for a moment and looked down at her face. It was a very lovely face and it had been acclaimed by all London.

  Very fair, with large misty blue eyes, Hetty Baldwyn had been the toast of St. James’s from the moment she appeared on the social scene.

  Now after two Seasons she was an unrivalled beauty, the “Incomparable” who was pursued not only by the Bucks and Dandies of the Beau Monde, but by all the other young men who wished to be in the fashion.

  “What do you mean, ‘Oh Periquine!’?” Lord Corbury asked.

  Hetty laid her cheek against his shoulder.

  “You know Papa would not allow it.”

  “Damn it all, why should we trouble ourselves with your father?” Lord Corbury enquired. “We will run away, Hetty. We will be married, and then there is nothing he can do about it.”

  He stopped speaking because Hetty was looking at him in wide eyed surprise.

  “You mean go to — Gretna Green?” she enquired in shocked tones.

  “Why not?” he asked roughly. “Once we are over the border and married, there is little your father can do except berate us, and who cares about that?”

  Hetty pouted her red lips and looked more alluring than ever.

  “But Periquine, I want a big wedding with bridesmaids and all my friends there. I have planned my gown already, and I want to wear Mama’s diamond tiara.”

  She saw a dark and ominous look in Lord Corbury’s eyes and added hastily,

  “Of course you would make a most alluring and handsome bridegroom!”

  “What the devil does it matter how or where we are married as long as we are?” Lord Corbury enquired. “Bridesmaids, spectators, they are all of no importance! What matters is us, Hetty ! You will be my wife and then no-one can take you from me.”

  “It would be wonderful,” Hetty breathed softly. “At the same time Periquine, I would not wish to upset Papa. He is proud of me and it would break his heart if I did anything so shameful as running away to Gretna Green.”

  “Then what are we to do?” Lord Corbury asked despondently.

  He was an exceedingly good looking young man, tall with broad shoulders, and features which caused a flutter in the heart of every maiden on whom he cast his grey eyes.

  He also had a slightly raffish air about him which even the fastidious Hetty found irresistible.

  She disengaged herself now from his arms and stood looking up at him, her riding-habit of turquoise blue velvet revealing the exquisite curves of her slight figure.

  She had taken off her hat with its gauze veil when she had entered the room, and the sun coming through the diamond-paned casement-windows seemed to halo the pale gold of her hair and gave her an ethereal beauty which made Lord Corbury gaze at her as if spell-bound.

  “I love you, Hetty,” he said unsteadily, “I cannot live without you.”

  “And I love you, Periquine,” she replied, “but we must be careful, very careful. I have not told Papa that you are home, so he has no idea that we are together at the moment.”

  “Then what is your excuse for being here?” Lord Corbury asked.

  “I told Papa I was riding to the Priory to call on your house-keeper, Mrs. Buckle, who is ill. He commended me on being so thoughtful.”

  “He is certain to learn sooner or later that I am back,” Lord Corbury said sulkily.

  “I have thought of that,” Hetty replied. “I shall tell him that Mrs. Buckle expects you any day. If one is going to lie, one should always tell a good one.”

  “And do you think I enjoy all these lies and subterfuges?” Lord Corbury asked.

  “What else can we do?” Hetty asked.

  “You can marry me!” he answered sharply.

  “And what would we live on?” she enquired.

  “We could live here.”

  He looked round the room as he spoke, noting for the first time that, while the wood panelling was old and beautiful, the rest of the furnishings were threadbare and needed renewing.

  The fringe was falling away from the velvet curtains, the pattern had almost disappeared from the once valuable Persian carpet, several of the chairs needed repairing, and it was easy to see there were places on the walls where pictures had once hung.

  Hetty followed his gaze.

  “I know you love your home, Periquine.” she said, “but it would cost thousands of pounds, really thousands, to put it in order and make it habitable.”

  “And I have not even a thousand pence,” Lord Corbury said bitterly.

  “I know, I know,” Hetty said, “and that is why it would be quite useless for you to speak to Papa or even to hint that you wish to marry me. He is determined that I shall make a brilliant marriage. At the moment he favours Sir Nicholas Waringham.”

  “Waringham!” Lord Corbury ejaculated furiously. “Do you think you would be happy with that stuck-up, stiff necked snob, who is far too conscious of his own consequence?”

  “He is very very wealthy,” Hetty said softly.

  “While I am penniless!” Lord Corbury exclaimed. “A penniless Peer! That is a joke, is it not?”

  Hetty appeared to shiver.

  “I must go, Periquine, I dare not stay here talking to you, but I will try to come over tomorrow. I will tell Papa Mrs. Buckle is still poorly, that I have promised to take her some nourishing soup. Mama will approve of that too, she is always saying I do not pay enough attention to the sick and poor.”

  “Then pay attention to me! “ Lord Corbury demanded, taking her into his arms and lifting her chin to look down at her blue eyes. “You are so lovely, so incredibly, unbelievably lovely!”

  His lips were on hers and as he
felt her respond to his passion, he drew her closer and closer still.

  There was no doubt he aroused an emotion in the beautiful Hetty which few other men were able to do.

  She was considered rather cold by the majority of her admirers, but now her lips quivered beneath Lord Corbury’s and her arms crept round his neck.

  When finally he raised his head, her eyes were warm with passion and her breasts were moving tumultuously beneath her velvet jacket.

  “I love you! I love you!” he cried. “God, how I love you!”

  He would have kissed her again, but she put out her hands to stop him.

  “No, Periquine, I must go, it is getting late. We must not arouse any suspicion, or it will be impossible for us to meet again.”

  She turned towards the door as she spoke, and when he would have followed her she warned him,

  “Do not come with me. My groom must not see you.”

  “You will come tomorrow?” Lord Corbury pleaded.

  “If it is possible,” Hetty promised. “But Sir Nicholas is arriving to stay with us and Papa will expect me to amuse him.”

  “Curse Waringham ! Why should he have so much money, when my pockets are to let?”

  “That is the question I have already asked myself,” Hetty answered. “Periquine, I promise you things would be very different if only you were rich.”

  She gave him a provocative glance from under her long eye lashes and added,

  “Can you not make some money somehow? If you had only a small fortune, I am sure Papa would look favourably upon you. After all, yours is an ancient title.”

  “As old as the Priory,” Lord Corbury replied, “and in the same rotten state of disrepair.”

  His voice was bitter again. Hetty turned back to stand on tip-toe and plant a soft kiss on his cheek before she went across the room as lightly as a butterfly.

  She opened the door, made a graceful gesture with her hand that she knew herself was very alluring and then disappeared, leaving Lord Corbury with an impression of beguiling blue eyes and smiling red lips.

  He stood for a moment staring at the door when it shut behind her as if he expected her to return, and then he walked gloomily to the window to stand looking out at the unkempt lawns, the broken sundial, the flower-beds which were a mass of weeds, and the balustrade edging the terrace which was overgrown with moss.

  As he stood still deep in his thoughts, unexpectedly he heard a sound behind him. There was a faint click and then a slight scrape of something being moved.

  He turned round. A part of the panelling beside the fireplace was opening and as he watched it, a small face peered round the room. Lord Corbury saw two very large enquiring eyes, below an oval forehead and a head of very deep red hair which curled in untidy profusion.

  Lord Corbury stared.

  “Fenella !” he ejaculated and walked to the open panel.

  The newcomer gave a kind of squeak of surprise at seeing him. Putting out his hand he took her by the arm and dragged her into the room, shaking her.

  “What are you doing here, Fenella?” he stormed. “How dare you hide in the Priest’s Hole! Your behaviour is intolerable! I have a very good mind to give you a good spanking!”

  She swayed backwards and forwards with the fury of his shaking and at the same time her eyes laughed up at him

  “No, no! Periquine!” she cried. “Last time you spanked me it hurt abominably! And anyway I am now too old.”

  He released his hold on her.

  “What do you mean ‘too old’?”

  “I am eighteen. Had you forgotten?”

  “Good God, it’s not possible!” he exclaimed. “You were only a child when I went away.”

  “Nonsense!” she retorted. “I was nearly fifteen, but I looked younger. Now I am a grown-up young lady!”

  “You certainly do not look or behave like one,” he answered.

  It was true she was very small and her head barely reached his shoulder. He might be excused for thinking she was very much younger than her age.

  She wore a cotton frock which she had long ago outgrown, and it clung to her body revealing the new maturity of her small breasts.

  It had lost its colour through frequent washing, but nevertheless it could not disguise the perfection of her figure or the fact that her hair caught in the sunshine had fiery lights which looked like tiny tongues of flame.

  Her eyes seemed over-large for her face. Their colour was the strange green of the pools in the wood, and they had the same clarity as the streams which glittered and glimmered in the sunshine seeping through the branches of the trees.

  She was not classically beautiful like Hetty, but she had a kind of elfin loveliness which was irresistible. Her lips curved upwards at the corners and her eyes seemed to dance with laughter.

  Her skin was white except that on her small slightly uptilted nose there were a number of freckles.

  “Eighteen!” Lord Corbury exclaimed, “and still getting into mischief! Perhaps you will explain to me what the hell you are doing in the Priest’s Hole eavesdropping on my conversation.”

  “It was very edifying!” Fenella said with a mischievous glance.

  He put out his hand as if to take hold of her shoulder and shake her again, but she slipped quickly out of his reach.

  “I could not help it, Periquine ! I could not really!” she explained. “I heard you coming and there was nothing I could do but hide myself. I knew Hetty would not be pleased to see me.”

  “Why ever not?” Lord Corbury enquired.

  “Hetty does not much like other women,” Fenella replied, “especially when she has a romantic assignation with a handsome Beau!”

  She looked at Lord Corbury as she spoke, noting the intricate folds of his white cravat, his exquisitely cut coat, and tight yellow pantaloons.

  “You do look smart, Periquine ! I thought you were irresistible in your uniform, but now you are a perfect Adonis.”

  “I wish to God I were back in the Army,” Lord Corbury snapped. “At least I had something else to occupy my mind besides lack of money.”

  “I was afraid you would be upset when you learnt what was happening on the estate,” Fenella said sympathetically.

  She perched herself as she spoke on the arm of a sofa.

  “Why did not somebody tell me?” Lord Corbury enquired.

  “I did think of writing to you,” Fenella replied, “but what good would it have done? You were in France, and even if you had received my letter, which I doubted, there was little that could be altered until you returned.”

  “And what do you imagine I can do now?” Lord Corbury asked aggressively. “Swayer came to see me in London the day before yesterday and informed me that I could not let the farms unless they are first repaired, and that I could not repair them because I had no money! How could things have got into such a state?”

  “Your father was very ill before he died,” Fenella said quietly, “and things just went from bad to worse. MacDonald gave up his farm, and Grimble refused to continue unless the barns were repaired, and naturally no-one would rent them as they are now.”

  She paused and added almost reluctantly,

  “The other farms have been without tenants for nearly three years.”

  “I asked Swayer why he did not write to me,” Lord Corbury said, “and he said it was not his business.”

  “I suppose that Johnson, your father’s agent, should have done so,” Fenella said. “But he was always a surly and difficult man, and he was so incensed when he received no salary for six months that he just packed up and went. He did not even say goodbye.”

  “Empty farms! No rents coming in and the house collapsing over my head!” Lord Corbury exclaimed. “I have seen the holes in the roof, I have seen how many ceilings there are down.”

  “The ceiling in the Picture Gallery is the only one that really matters,” Fenella said.

  “Picture Gallery!” Lord Corbury scoffed. “Why should that matter? There are no pic
tures there. They have all gone years ago.”

  “They had to sell the last Van Dyke so that your father could have a few luxuries in the six months before he died,” Fenella said. “I believe they obtained quite a reasonable price for it, but there was already so much owing, so many debts unpaid, so many wages overdue, I am afraid there will be nothing left.”

  “There is nothing left.”

  “Oh Periquine, I am so sorry! I have been so looking forward to your coming home. I have thought about it and longed to see you, and now everything is spoilt.”

  “You can hardly expect me to be jubilant,” Lord Corbury said sourly.

  “No, of course not,” Fenella agreed. “And you also want to — marry — Hetty?”

  It was a question spoken in a soft nervous voice.

  “Of course I want to marry her!” Lord Corbury replied. “She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen! And she loves me, Fenella. I know she loves me. We could run away together if it were not for that pompous and snobbish old father of hers.”

  “Sir Virgil is very proud of his daughter,” Fenella said as if she were finding an excuse for him.

  “I should be proud of her too, if she were my wife,” Lord Corbury said. “What the hell am I to do, Fenella?”

  He walked back to the window as he spoke, and Fenella watching him realised it was just like old times.

  There were six years between them in age, and yet, because they were second cousins and lived within half a mile of each other, they had always spent much time together, first as children, then when Periquine came home from school in the holidays and found that in the near vicinity there were few companions of his own age.

  He had treated Fenella as if she were a small boy, compelling her to do his bidding, fag for him, run after him, fetch and carry, and because there was no-one else to be his confidante.

  Now without really thinking about it they were back on the old easy terms they had always known.

  “How much money have you got, Periquine?” Fenella asked.

  “None, absolutely none!” he declared. “After I had seen Swayer, I gave up the rooms I had taken in Dover Street, sacked my valet, sold all my horses except the two I have driven down here today and paid up the greater part of my debts.”