When Ursa saw the horses, she realised that, although he had been away for some time and had only just returned, he had kept in touch with his manager.
The horses he had left behind might have grown older, but they were in every way magnificent.
“How could you bear to leave them?” she asked as she went from stall to stall.
“I admit that when I was given some half-bred hack to ride, it made me feel homesick,” the Marquis replied. “But now I am home for good I intend to build up my racing stable as well as add to the horses I have here.”
“I think they are all perfect,” Ursa said admiringly.
He shook his head.
“I need yearlings and I also need what is very important, Arab blood.”
Ursa gave a little sigh.
She thought of how her father, in a limited way, for he was not a very rich man, had kept an excellent stable of horses.
She might perhaps have been bored with the country, like Penelope, if she had not been able to ride.
“We will ride tomorrow morning,” the Marquis said, “and we can only hope that Orestes will not wish to join us – nor his daughter!”
“That would be wonderful!” Ursa said.
“I don’t know why,” the Marquis said as they walked back to the house, “but I always had the idea when they talked about your beauty that you were not a very enthusiastic horsewoman.”
Too late, much too late, Ursa remembered that, while Penelope rode occasionally in Hyde Park because it was fashionable, she had never enjoyed hunting.
She had always preferred to be driven about in one of her father’s carriages than to mount a horse.
“I enjoy riding,” she said quickly, “but only when I have horses as fine as yours.”
It was a lame excuse, but the Marquis seemed to accept it.
Ursa quickly went on to talk about the pictures they were to see.
They were certainly magnificent.
The Picture Gallery stretched the whole length of one of the wings.
They went from one picture to another.
It was only with the greatest of difficulty that Ursa prevented herself from saying that she had been in this place or that, when looking at a wonderful reproduction of what she had actually seen.
Only when the Marquis looked at his watch did she realise how long they had taken and how interesting it had all been.
“Is it time for them to arrive?” she asked.
“They should be here in about ten minutes,” the Marquis replied. “Perhaps we had better go downstairs and be waiting in the drawing room.”
When Ursa saw it, she realised that the Marquis obviously intended to impress the Greek.
It was certainly the most spectacular room in the house.
It was massed with flowers, which made her exclaim with delight at the white orchids and other exotic plants that had come from the Himalayas.
She knew that the moment was near when she would be introduced as the Marquis’s fiancée.
It was then she said,
“I wonder if perhaps I should have changed my gown. I never thought of it until this moment.”
“You look very lovely as you are,” the Marquis said. “And shall I tell you that I am astonished at how unselfconscious you appear to be about your looks? Unlike most other women you don’t seem to keep worrying about your appearance.”
There was a note of sincerity in his voice that made Ursa feel rather shy.
She could not explain that she did not worry about her looks because she had never thought of herself as a great beauty.
When she travelled with her father, she felt that no one noticed particularly what she was wearing.
“You are very beautiful,” the Marquis said in a low voice, “as a million men must already have told you, but there is something else about you that I did not expect.”
“What is – that?” Ursa asked nervously.
The Marquis was just about to reply when the door opened and the butler announced,
“Mr. Alexis Orestes, my Lord, and Miss Amelia Orestes!”
He pronounced the names in such a strange way that Ursa wanted to laugh.
They were standing by the mantelpiece and the Marquis hurried across the room, holding out his hand.
Alexis Orestes was not very tall, but he had an intelligent expression and he looked unmistakably Greek.
His daughter was short and rather heavily built as the Marquis had said and obviously very young.
She was not at all attractive nor was she very smartly dressed.
The Marquis greeted his guests enthusiastically.
“I am delighted to welcome you to Charnwood!” he was saying. “I am so glad that you thought of coming here.”
He shook Alexis Orestes’s hand and then turned to Amelia.
“I hope you had a good journey,” he asked, “and that you are not too tired?”
“I am not tired, thank you,” the Greek girl answered, speaking quite fluent English.
The Marquis turned back towards the fireplace.
“My grandmother is here with me,” he said, “and will be coming downstairs later. But now, I want you to meet someone who is very special to me and I want you to be among the first to congratulate me.”
There was a question in the Greek’s dark eyes as he looked at the Marquis enquiringly.
As they reached Ursa, the Marquis was saying,
“Allow me to introduce you to Miss Ursa Hollington, who is the daughter of Matthew Hollington, the distinguished linguist I am sure you have heard of.”
He smiled at her and then said,
“Miss Hollington has made me the most fortunate man in the world and it was only a day or two before I received your letter.”
Ursa held out her hand and, as the Greek took it, he said,
“I do not understand!”
“You are the first of my friends to be told that Ursa has agreed to become my wife,” the Marquis said. “I know that you will give us your blessing and drink our health in champagne.”
He turned towards the table where the bottle of champagne stood before the Greek could speak.
It had been brought in before the guests arrived and Ursa knew that this was because he had no wish for the servants to learn about his ‘engagement’.
As he poured the champagne into the glasses, he went on,
“I have told you this in complete confidence and I would be grateful if you don’t mention it to anyone as we have yet to inform our relatives. They are scattered everywhere, so it will take some time.”
He handed a glass of champagne to Alexis Orestes and then one to his daughter.
It was obvious to Ursa that the Greek was disappointed and a little disconcerted.
However, she did not think that he was particularly angry.
She glanced at his daughter, Amelia.
She did not seem at all upset that she had lost the man her father had chosen for her.
Ursa wondered if she had even been consulted as to whether she wished to marry him.
The Marquis put a glass of champagne into Ursa’s hand and then lifted his own.
“To you, Alexis Orestes,” he said, “and may you continue to be as successful in the future as you already are and impress Queen Victoria when you meet her on Monday.”
The Greek managed to laugh.
“I doubt if anybody could do that!” he said. “Your Queen and her Empire represent the pinnacle of power and who could possibly challenge that?”
The Marquis laughed.
“I can assure you that a great number of people would like to try.”
“Only to be defeated,” the Greek remarked. “And may that continue to be the case for a very long time.”
It was a compliment and the Marquis replied,
“We have much to be proud of in our Empire, but who can match the entrancing history of Ancient Greece and, of course, the possession of Mount Olympus?”
Alexis Orestes laughed.
“Tha
t is true.”
Because she felt that she should say something, Ursa said,
“My father loves Greece and taught me when I was a child to speak your language.”
She was speaking in Greek and Alexis Orestes exclaimed,
“That is splendid! You speak very fluently! I am surprised!”
“It is such a lovely language,” Ursa replied, “and I feel so privileged to be able to read the works of your great authors.”
Alexis Orestes was obviously intrigued.
He sat down beside Ursa on the sofa and they conversed together in his language.
Ursa was glad that the Marquis could not understand what was said.
She could not help telling Alexis Orestes that she had been to Greece and seen so much that was beautiful in his glorious country.
This was something that Penelope had not done.
But Ursa thought that if later Alexis Orestes was to mention to the Marquis that she had been in his country he would not be suspicious.
He would merely think that she was being clever in saying she had done what she knew Ursa had done.
After they had finished the champagne, the Marquis took Alexis Orestes to his study.
Ursa guessed that he was taking the opportunity to discuss business.
Left alone with Amelia, Ursa found her difficult to talk to, even though they were speaking in her language.
“Tell me about yourself,” she asked. “What do you do when you are in Athens? Do you attend many balls?”
“I go to some parties,” Amelia answered, “but they are nearly always given by Papa’s friends and those I meet are as old as he is.”
Ursa laughed.
“That must be very boring for you! But surely there are many young men in Athens and you must have many friends among them?”
“No, not many,” Amelia said. “Papa wishes me to marry someone who is important, but the men who are important in my country are usually very old.”
Ursa was beginning to understand.
This was why Alexis Orestes had set his heart on having the Marquis as a son-in-law.
She dared not say that to Amelia in case it was repeated and instead she said,
“I expect you would like to come upstairs and rest a little before dinner.”
“I would like that,” Amelia answered. “I have a headache from travelling in the train and listening to Papa, who talked and talked!”
“What about?” Ursa asked.
There was a little silence.
Then Amelia replied,
“He was instructing me about what I should say and what I should not say when I met the Marquis again. But now that he is to marry you, Papa must look elsewhere for a suitable husband for me.”
Ursa looked at the Greek girl in surprise.
“But surely you don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to?”
“I have to marry whoever Papa chooses,” Amelia said.
She spoke firmly.
Ursa was aware that she accepted that there would be no argument about it.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she said quickly, feeling it would be a mistake to say any more.
She took Amelia upstairs and then went to her own bedroom.
She found it a lovely room with a boudoir opening out of it.
In fact it was the most impressive bedroom that she had ever imagined she would be sleeping in.
Marie, having unpacked her clothes, was nowhere to be seen.
She therefore went out into the corridor wondering where the Dowager’s room was to be found.
As she did so, a housemaid came hurrying along the corridor and she asked,
“Can you tell me where Lady Brackley is sleeping?”
The housemaid dropped a little curtsey.
“Yes, miss,” she replied. “Her Ladyship’s in the room opposite, but, when I looks in a little while ago, she be fast asleep and I thought it would be a mistake to wake her.”
“You were quite right,” Ursa said, knowing that this was the reason why the Dowager had not come downstairs.
She went back to her own room.
Going into the boudoir, she found that there were some extremely interesting books which she knew she would enjoy.
One was a history of the house with illustrations.
It was so fascinating that Ursa sat down on the sofa.
She had been reading for nearly half-an-hour when the door opened and the Marquis came in.
He closed the door behind him and remarked,
“I might have known I would find you here!”
Ursa looked up at him with a smile and he sat down beside her on the sofa.
“It has all gone off perfectly!” he enthused.
“Your Greek friend did not say he was disappointed?”
The Marquis shook his head.
“He is too diplomatic for that. He merely congratulated me on marrying anyone so beautiful. Then we talked business.”
“His daughter told me that her father was intent on marrying her to someone important and that she had no choice in the matter!”
“Poor girl!” the Marquis ejaculated.
“She also said,” Ursa went on, “that her father instructed her all the way here in the train how she should behave and what she should say to you. I think she finds it a great relief that she need say nothing.”
The Marquis looked at her for a moment before he asked,
“How can I thank you for not only thinking of anything so clever but of carrying it off so brilliantly?”
Ursa gave a little sigh.
“Touch wood!” she begged. “We must still be very careful not to make any mistakes.”
“That is true,” the Marquis agreed. “Orestes is very clever and charming, but he could also be extremely ruthless if he discovered that he had been deceived and would deeply resent it.”
“Then we must not put a foot wrong until he leaves for London.”
The Marquis was looking at Ursa.
Then he asked,
“How can you be so beautiful and so clever? I have known many women, but none of them had your intelligence. Nor could they speak Greek so fluently! Orestes was extremely impressed.”
“It was just your good luck,” Ursa smiled.
“I must go back now,” the Marquis said, “and continue to make myself pleasant. I came upstairs really to find out if Grandmama was coming down, but I gather she is still asleep. I have told the maid not to wake her until it is time to change for dinner.”
“That is very sensible,” Ursa said.
“And you are not only sensible, but also exceptional,” the Marquis said softly.
He rose to his feet as he spoke and Ursa looked up at him.
Their eyes met and it was impossible for either of them to look away.
Then, abruptly, as if he forced himself to do so, the Marquis turned and walked towards the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ursa ran down the stairs at seven o’clock next morning feeling like a schoolgirl playing truant.
She was sure that the Dowager was fast asleep, as were the Greeks.
At the same time she had the guilty feeling that she should not be going out riding with the Marquis.
It was, however, something that she knew would be exciting.
It would be something to remember when she rode her father’s horses, which, although good, did not compare with the Marquis’s.
Last night had not been as difficult as she had feared.
She had set herself out to be charming to Alexis Orestes.
He had responded to her knowledge of Greece and the compliments she paid him on his distinguished position.
It was easier to talk in his language so that the Marquis did not understand what they were saying.
She found that the Greek was extremely knowledgeable on the history of his country.
She also discovered that he had a collection of Greek sculptures which she would love to see.
When they went up
to bed, the Marquis escorted his grandmother to the foot of the stairs.
As the Greeks had not yet followed them, he said to Ursa,
“Well done! You were absolutely splendid and you know how grateful I am.”
There was no time to say any more because Alexis Orestes and his daughter had now joined them.
Ursa guided the Dowager up the stairs and into her bedroom where her maid was waiting for her.
Instead of saying anything, Ursa just kissed Lady Brackley goodnight and went to her own room.
She realised when she reached it that she was tired, but she was not as worried or as anxious as she had been before the Greeks arrived.
She fell asleep thinking only of the Marquis.
Somehow he seemed to fill her dreams so that she was still thinking of him when she woke up.
Now she went out of the front door and saw that the horses were waiting.
The Marquis was standing beside the one with a side saddle.
It was then she realised that he had had the foresight to arrange that none of the guests’ bedrooms were at the front of the house.
As he lifted her onto her mount, she felt a little quiver run through her.
She thought it was relief that no one was with them.
As they crossed the bridge that spanned the lake, she was sure that no one had seen them go.
The Marquis’s horse was very frisky and, as they rode towards some level ground, he said,
“I suggest we gallop some of the exuberance out of our animals, provided that you are satisfied with yours?”
“I am more than satisfied,” Ursa replied.
She knew from the way the Marquis was looking at her that he was hoping the horse would not prove too much for her.
Perhaps he expected that she would just want to ‘trit-trot’.
That, as she was told, was what the ladies in London, like Penelope, did in Hyde Park.
She knew that her sister would never think of galloping, if she could possibly avoid it.
The Marquis had been correct in his assumption that Penelope was not a keen rider.
Although Ursa told herself that it was a mistake, she could not resist setting off at a tremendous speed.
They rode for nearly a mile before they started to pull in their mounts.
Ursa turned then to look at the Marquis.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining.
Although she was unaware of it, she looked even lovelier than ever.
The Duke Is Deceived Page 6
