Love Wins In Berlin

by Barbara Cartland

  It was only natural with his charm and high spirits that women should find him irresistible, not only because he was the Prince of Wales but as a man.

  The Prince had now fallen in love with the fascinating, charming and popular Lady Brooke. Married to the heir of the Earl of Warwick, Daisy was loved by everyone.

  Even when she behaved in a way that most of Society thought naughty and indiscreet, she was still admired and respected.

  At Easton Lodge, which was her home, she rode with skill and dash and gave a certain glamour to everything she touched.

  It was unfortunate that while Daisy, though now a young married woman, was still in many ways a child, she should have met a dashing and good-looking sailor.

  Lord Charles Beresford had made his name in the Royal Navy. Brought up in Ireland, he rode to hounds with boldness and imagination and was experienced in driving a four-in-hand and offered to instruct Daisy in that art.

  The result of the affection they shared for horses was inevitable.

  The expression on the face of Lord Charles’s wife grew sourer and sourer.

  It was within five years of her marriage that the beautiful Daisy was in love. She found another handsome sailor, who was a friend of the Prince of Wales, irresistible.

  Daisy was beautiful, but she was also reckless as when she was in love she threw all caution to the wind.

  She learnt that Lord Charles, who had told her he loved her to distraction, had given his wife a baby.

  Daisy then behaved exactly like an outraged child and accused him in a letter of ‘infidelity’. This letter was the cause of a great deal of trouble.

  Although it was addressed to her husband, Lady Charles recognised the handwriting and opened it. Not unnaturally she was livid with rage and showed the letter to the Prime Minister.

  He was too discreet to do anything about it, but Lady Charles was now threatening Daisy, who felt the one person who might help her was Charles’s greatest friend, the Prince of Wales.

  Looking extremely pretty, even though she was somewhat flustered, Daisy called at Marlborough House. She poured out her story to the Prince of Wales, who was touched by the tears in her beautiful blue eyes and promised that he would help her.

  Of course they saw a great deal of each other while they talked over what she could do and planning how they could cajole Lady Charles into surrendering the damaging letter which, by now, Daisy regretted she had ever written.

  Before the Prince of Wales had in any way helped with the situation, he had fallen in love with her.

  He was not just attracted to Daisy as he had been to the Jersey Lily and his other affairs. In his own words he was ‘moved by a deep emotion’.

  Because he needed someone he trusted to talk about his feelings, he confided in the Marquis.

  While he was very sympathetic, the Marquis could only commiserate with him.

  He tried to take the Prince’s mind off love by talking about his gun and he was horrified to find that Watson had disappeared.

  He was immediately convinced that the new young Kaiser was behind Watson’s abduction.

  “We must do something about it, Irvin,” he told the Marquis.” The best move you can possibly make is to go to Berlin and see for yourself what that young rascal is up to. I would not trust him further than I can see him!”

  The Marquis agreed that there was no alternative and made his plans accordingly.

  He returned to London from the Grand National at Aintree to find an intriguing letter awaiting him.

  It was from Baron von Honentaal.

  He had written to say that he had been informed that the Marquis was intending to visit Berlin and invited him to be his guest at his house.

  The Marquis was surprised at the invitation, although he remembered meeting the Baron on several occasions when he had been staying in London.

  Then as he thought it over, it seemed to him almost providential. He had received an invitation from a man who was obviously very influential in Berlin.

  The Baron would undoubtedly invite him to meet a number of people who would be aware of the Emperor’s ambitions for the German Imperial Navy.

  “I will accept,” the Marquis told his secretary,“and as I wish to leave for Berlin tomorrow or at the latest the next day, please inform the German Embassy so that they can send my acceptance by their private wire which is by far the quickest.”

  “Of course,” the secretary replied. “Your Lordship’s yacht is anchored in the Thames, ready to go to sea as soon as your Lordship wishes it.”

  The Marquis gave his orders.

  Then he remembered that Lady Sybil had pressed him to dine with her as soon as he returned from Aintree. This was something he had no intention of doing.

  “I will leave tomorrow after all,” he decided, “so go to the Embassy immediately.”

  His secretary hurried to obey.

  The Marquis sent for his valet, who had been with him for several years and told him where they were going.

  “Well that’s somewhere new, my Lord,” Dorkins said.

  Dorkins was a wiry little man who had found himself in some very difficult situations with the Marquis. He had always proved himself exceedingly resourceful and was more than handy with a revolver or knife.

  The Marquis hesitated as to whether he should tell him why they were going.

  Then he remembered that servants’ gossip was often more informative than anything he would hear in the dining room.

  “The reason why we are going, Dorkins,” he said, “is to see if we can find any sign of Mr. Watson.”

  “I guessed that was in the back of yer mind, my Lord,” Dorkins replied. “I thinks all along that them Germans might be at the bottom of his disappearance.”

  “What made you think that?” the Marquis enquired.

  “There’s something about them I don’t trust,” Dorkins answered. “A friend of mine, who knows them well, says they’re either at yer feet or yer throat!”

  “I have no need to tell you, Dorkins,” the Marquis said, “that anything we do must be with the utmost secrecy, and no one must think we have any reason to visit Berlin except for a little sightseeing.”

  Dorkins laughed.

  “I know that’s the answer, my Lord, and I’ll tell them when I gets the chance what yer’ve brought back from yer other travels, especially them jewels yer found in India.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  He had been given magnificent ropes of pearls in Bombay and diamonds from the diamond mine in Hyderabad. In addition he had bought rubies and emeralds at what he knew was well under the market price.

  These had been added to the already very valuable Midhurst jewellery.

  It had passed through his mind that one day these beautiful jewels would look very becoming on his wife.

  He certainly had no intention of giving any of them to Lady Sybil, nor to any other beauty who was merely passing through his life. For these ladies he visited one of the many jewellers in Bond Street where he was always extremely generous.

  What he had acquired on his travels was to his mind an essential part of the family collection, which belonged to Hurst Castle, which was not only outstandingly elegant to see from outside but exquisitely furnished within.

  It was a treasure trove which the Marquis enhanced and extended whenever opportunity arose.

  He had not only brought home jewellery from India and Persia, but pearls from the Gulf.

  He had acquired some very fine statues in Greece, which were the envy of all who inspected them. There had also been some remarkable carvings from remote parts of Africa which museums had begged him for, almost on their knees.

  He was however determined to make Hurst Castle richer than any museum in the world.

  It was true to say he was not only thinking of himself, but was handing on something unique to posterity and which came from his heart.

  His grandmother, to whom he was devoted, had said to him on her last visit to Hurst Castle,r />
  “All you need now, Irvin dearest, is someone beautiful and delightful at the other end of your table who will be the admiration of everyone who visits you.”

  The Marquis remained silent as she continued,

  “I remember people saying to your mother that she was a perfect Grande Dame, and that, dear boy, is what you need. While of course the nursery, where I used to visit you as a child, is still very empty.”

  “There is plenty of time for all that, Grandmama,” the Marquis replied with a smile.

  He bent and kissed her cheek.

  When he walked away she looked after him with sadness in her eyes. She knew, when no one else even remembered, how much it had hurt his pride when Elizabeth had run away with a man so inferior to himself.

  She had prayed ever since that he would forget the insult and would find someone who would love him for himself and not for his title and possessions.

  But how, she asked herself, could any woman truly separate the two worlds?

  From the time that his father had died, Irvin had been very much a Marquis, taking control of his vast estate, the horses he owned and everything else involved with a great title and heritage.

  ‘It is too much to ask,’ the Dowager told herself, ‘that any girl could ignore everything except that Irvin is a very attractive young man.’

  Yet she had fallen in love with his grandfather the first time she had met him and he with her. It really had been a case of ‘love at first sight’, which most people believed happened only in novelettes.

  They had been ecstatically happy.

  Although no one would believe it in a world which today the Dowager considered was fast and improper, they had neither of them been unfaithful.

  It was no use pretending she was not shocked by the behaviour of the Prince of Wales’s Marlborough House set, which included her beloved grandson.

  Of course he enjoyed the exciting evenings at Marlborough House and the endless parties to which the Prince of Wales would insist on inviting his favourite beauty as one of the guests.

  At the moment the Dowager knew her grandson was also enjoying the Easton Lodge house parties. She was told they were always arranged to provide the maximum amusement.

  A dozen guests were the usual number invited and there was so much arranged for them. There would be riding, which the Marquis enjoyed and driving over the estate.

  The Dowager had been told often enough what happened after hunting or shooting in the winter.

  The ladies, looking like butterflies in glamorous long-sleeved tea gowns, would be waiting in the gold and white drawing room for the men to return.

  In the evening they were always elaborately dressed in their tight-waisted low-necked gowns.

  Every beauty glittered with diamonds and precious gems. The conversation was witty and amusing and it seemed as if everyone was always laughing.

  ‘What is surprising,’ the Dowager thought, ‘is that Irvin cannot find anyone as alluring as Daisy to reign in Hurst Castle.’

  She worried constantly that her beloved Irvin would continue with his determination to remain unmarried.

  He had no brother.

  If by some mischance he died, the heir would be a cousin who was already over fifty.

  ‘He must marry, he must!’ the Dowager said again to herself as she walked to the window.

  The fountain in the garden was throwing its spray up towards the sun. It fell over the naked bronze figure of a Goddess surrounded by cupids. The Dowager looked at the statute for some time.

  She was praying as she prayed every day that her grandson would find himself a wife. But it seemed as if her prayers were to go unanswered.

  He was now going abroad.

  Although he had said nothing, she guessed that his affair with Lady Sybil Graham, of which she had been well aware, had come to an end.

  She realised that Lady Sybil was a widow and eager to marry him. However she had what the Dowager thought was a bad reputation.

  Yet she was a very beautiful woman and the daughter of the Duke of Doncaster. So for those reasons she was highly suitable, except that the Marquis did not want her as his wife.

  The Dowager knew him so well and had doted on him ever since he was a baby. She had guessed almost before he knew it himself that this affaire-de-coeur, which had been a fiery and tempestuous one, was coming to an end.

  She assumed that there was no one else on the horizon for the moment. Otherwise he would not be going abroad.

  The Dowager sighed deeply.

  ‘Please God,’ she prayed, ‘find him a wife. A wife who will make him happy and who will love him for himself.’

  She felt that her prayers were travelling up into the sky on the spray from the fountain. Then as the sunshine glinted, she felt as if her prayers were being answered.

  As the water tumbled into the basin, it was as if God had heard her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Having made his plans to leave for Berlin, the Marquis felt in no particular hurry to depart.

  He disliked the flurry and scurry which took place in his house when the master was planning to go abroad. There was always panic about things forgotten and remembered at the last moment.

  He therefore descended for breakfast at nine o’clock.

  He informed his secretary that he would leave at ten o’clock to join his yacht. There were a number of letters for him to sign before his departure.

  His secretary required him to decide when he would return and which invitations he would accept before the end of the month.

  Having finished his breakfast the Marquis walked to his desk where he signed a number of letters and cheques.

  He was just about to leave when the door opened and the butler announced,

  “Lady Sybil Graham, my Lord.”

  The Marquis looked up in astonishment.

  He had never known Lady Sybil to rise early.

  He could not believe it was not a mistake until she came sailing into the room.

  Looking exceedingly beautiful and dressed in a most elaborate and glamorous velvet gown, she was wearing a hat quivering with ostrich feathers.

  “Sybil!” the Marquis exclaimed.” Why are you here at this hour?”

  “Need you ask that question?” she replied.” I could not believe that you would think of going abroad without saying goodbye to me.”

  The Marquis realised at once that he had told her about his plans in the note he had written the previous evening to say that he could not dine with her.

  “I have something very important to accomplish in Berlin,” he stated a little lamely as he rose to his feet.

  “How could you be so cruel,” Lady Sybil asked, “as to make me wonder why you could not at least dine with me before your departure.”

  “I arrived home late and quite frankly I was very tired,” the Marquis answered.

  “Too tired for me?” Lady Sybil questioned.

  She moved a little nearer to him.

  She was looking up at him with an expression in her eyes that he knew so well. Her lips were parted provocatively.

  “I love you, Irvin,” she breathed, “you know I love you, and I cannot allow you leave me.”

  She waited for him to put his arms round her. When he did not do so she moved even closer.

  “What is the attraction in Berlin that makes you hurry there so unexpectedly?” she demanded.” Could it possibly be a woman who is the attraction?”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “I can answer that quite honestly. As far as I know I am not meeting any woman in Berlin.”

  “Then allow me to come with you,” Lady Sybil pleaded.

  She hardly spoke above a whisper and the Marquis stared at her in astonishment. Then he recognised quite clearly it was a trap.

  If he did travel to Berlin with Lady Sybil, he would be obliged on his return to ask her to marry him. Firmly he moved away from her to stand in front of the fireplace.

  “I think you must be aware, Sybil,
that it would be very indiscreet of us to go anywhere abroad together. As it so happens, I am to meet the Kaiser on behalf of the Prince of Wales.”

  “I do not believe you,” Lady Sybil responded. “You have never behaved like this before and I want you to stay at least until tomorrow or the day after.”

  When he did not answer, she moved swiftly across the room towards him. As she reached him, she placed her arms around his neck.

  “I love you, I love you,” she sighed, “and I will not let you go.”

  Then her lips were on his and her body moved closer.

  He could feel her heart beating.

  As she kissed him he knew beyond question that as far as he was concerned their liaison was finished. He had even found her conversation boring.

  Yet it had been impossible for him not to be moved by the passionate insistence of her lips and the quivering of her body when she became excited.

  Now, somewhat to his surprise, he felt nothing.

  Nothing but a desire to get away from her as quickly as he could.

  Gently, because he did not wish to hurt her more than was necessary, he removed her arms from around his neck. Holding her away from him he said,

  “It is too early in the morning, Sybil, for a such demonstrations of affection. I have to depart now, otherwise I shall be late arriving in Hamburg where I am to catch the train to Berlin. You are very beautiful and very alluring, and I am sure that in my absence there will be at least a dozen gentlemen wishing to tell you so.”

  Lady Sybil did not reply.

  She just stood looking at him, her eyes very wide. She was enough of a woman of the world to understand what was happening without the Marquis saying any more.

  He was saying goodbye, not just for this journey but forever.

  Then because she could not stop herself, she reached out towards him, as he turned towards the door.

  “Wait Irvin, wait,” she implored, “I have something to tell you, something I must talk to you about.”

  “I am sorry, Sybil,” the Marquis replied, “but I must go. Take care of yourself.”

  He pulled open the door as he spoke and left the room.

  He did not close the door.

  Lady Sybil could hear his footsteps moving down the passage towards the hall.