The Duke Is Deceived

by Barbara Cartland

  “That was marvellous!” she exclaimed.

  “And so are you,” the Marquis replied. “I had no idea you rode so well.”

  “I have ridden since I could walk,” Ursa told him without thinking.

  “Then why are your stables not filled with horses as good as these?”

  His question brought Ursa back to reality with a lurch.

  She remembered that she was supposed to be Penelope, the wife of a wealthy man.

  She gave a little shrug of her shoulders.

  “Arthur does not often ride these days. He cannot find the time for it.”

  She had thought of saying that he was too old, but decided it would sound unkind.

  At the same time she had to find some excuse, as it was quite obvious the Marquis knew that she did not ride regularly.

  They rode on through the woods.

  Then they climbed to the tops of some high ground so that the Marquis could show Ursa the extent of his estate.

  It was very beautiful and Ursa said, as she gazed at it,

  “You must be very proud of owning so much! But I realise it is all a great responsibility.”

  The Marquis looked at her in surprise.

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

  “There is not only so much land which is yours but also the people who live on it are yours too and I am sure that they look to you for guidance and help.”

  She was simply saying what came into her mind.

  There was a moment’s pause before the Marquis answered,

  “Are you really rebuking me for having been abroad for so long and not acting like a shepherd in watching over my people?”

  “I was not thinking that at all,” Ursa replied. “However, it is an excellent definition of what every good landlord should be.”

  “I suppose I wanted, while I am young,” the Marquis said, “to see the world and, if you like, enjoy myself before I am troubled with too much responsibility.”

  The way he spoke made Ursa think of how unhappy he had been when he was a little boy.

  “I was not really rebuking you,” she said quickly, “and everything I have seen at Charnwood is perfect! I should in fact be congratulating you.”

  “It is the way my father left it and the way I intend Charnwood to continue,” the Marquis said firmly, “but I also want it to be a home.”

  Ursa remembered how the Dowager had told her that was what he had lacked.

  It was why he had been thrilled when his father had married again.

  “Of course you want a home,” she said gently, “and lots of children to enjoy your magnificent house and ride your superb horses.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “You are going too fast. At the same time I would like to teach my sons to shoot and my daughters to ride as well as you do.”

  “I am sure that is what you will do,” Ursa said. “According to your grandmother there are a great number of beautiful young women longing to be offered the position of chatelaine of Charnwood Court.”

  She was speaking lightly, but the Marquis said in a serious tone,

  “I have first to fall in love.”

  “Surely that is not too difficult?” Ursa asked.

  “It might be very difficult, if it was with the wrong person,” the Marquis replied.

  He spoke in a sharp tone and turned his horse as he did so in the direction they had come from.

  Then he added,

  “I think we should be going back.”

  Feeling that she had said something wrong, Ursa felt worried as she followed him.

  As they were on a narrow path through some trees, she was unable to ride beside him.

  When they reached the open, the Marquis began to ride swiftly, as if he was anxious to get back.

  ‘What – have I – said? What have – I done?’ Ursa asked herself urgently.

  As she went over their conversation in her mind, she decided that he must be in love already.

  Obviously with someone he could not marry.

  ‘I want him to be happy,’ she thought. ‘He is so kind and so considerate that he deserves to have exactly what he wants.’

  The Marquis slowed down when they were only a short distance from the house.

  “Have you enjoyed your ride?” he asked.

  “It has been splendid,” Ursa said. “I do hope I have a chance to ride one of your horses again before we leave.”

  “There is no hurry for you and Grandmama to do so,” the Marquis answered. “Orestes told me last night that he wants to catch an early train tomorrow morning so that he and his daughter have time for luncheon before they drive to Windsor Castle.”

  “I am sure from what he said last night,” Ursa said, “that he will give a very glowing account to Her Majesty of the advice you have given for modernising the Greek Navy and your promise to help with supervision.”

  “I hope so,” the Marquis replied, “but I realise it is all due to you that I do not have to have a Greek wife!”

  “If you were to have one,” Ursa remarked, “I think she should look like a Greek Goddess from Olympus, because Charnwood deserves nothing less.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of Diana the Huntress,” the Marquis commented.

  “That is very ambitious!” Ursa laughed.

  She looked at the Marquis as she did so and then realised that he was paying her a compliment.

  Once again their eyes met.

  Then suddenly feeling shy, Ursa looked away.

  She spurred her horse to move faster and they arrived back at the stables in silence.

  When the Marquis lifted her down from the saddle, she again felt a little thrill run through her.

  Then she told herself that she was being stupid.

  Any other woman, she thought, would take his compliments at face value.

  Because she was so countrified, she felt shy.

  She blushed, which was something she was certain that her sister would never have done.

  Now she said to the Marquis,

  “Thank you so much for a delightful ride.”

  She turned to the Head Groom to say how fine the horses were and he was obviously pleased at her appreciation.

  The Marquis started giving some orders as to what he wanted for the rest of the day.

  Ursa hurried back into the house without waiting.

  She thought that it would be a mistake for the Dowager to hear that she had been riding alone with the Marquis.

  She, if no one else, would be aware that it was something Penelope would not have done.

  Penelope had always disliked getting up early, apart from the fact that she had no wish to ride.

  ‘I must be careful, very very careful!’ Ursa told herself as she went up the stairs to her bedroom.

  *

  The rest of the day passed off successfully.

  The Marquis had tentatively suggested taking the Greeks round the house in the morning.

  After that they had had an early luncheon before they went for a drive over the estate.

  He pointed out the beauty spots, which Ursa knew could in no way compare with the grandeur of mountain scenery of Greece.

  He took them to a farm and Alexis Orestes was extremely interested in the modern implements the Marquis had introduced.

  He wanted also to know how much the crops sold for.

  Ursa felt that the Greek thought of everything only in terms of money, being first and foremost a businessman.

  When they returned to the house where the Dowager was waiting for them, there was champagne to drink.

  There were also some pâté sandwiches in case they were hungry before dinner.

  The only person who did not seem to have anything much to say was Amelia.

  Ursa decided, although she confessed it was unkind, that she was in fact a very dull young woman.

  ‘How could somebody like that possibly marry the Marquis?’ she asked herself. ‘He would not only be bored, but, considering how ha
ndsome he is, there would inevitably be other women attracted to him.’

  She found herself wondering what the Marquis felt about the women he had been talked about in London.

  There were also those he had met in India and other parts of the world.

  As she joined the Dowager before dinner, almost as if she had read Ursa’s thoughts, Lady Brackley said,

  “I notice that young Greek woman has very little to say for herself and I can only thank you a thousand times for having saved my precious Guy from a loveless marriage.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Ursa said. “He must find someone really charming.”

  “Someone like yourself, my dearest Penelope,” the Dowager said. “I was thinking only today how very fortunate Arthur is to have a wife like you. You are so clever with Mr. Orestes that I feel now he does not resent in any way the fact that Guy has escaped his clutches.”

  “I am hoping that is so,” Ursa nodded, “and, of course, it is very fortunate that I can talk to him in his own language.”

  “I thought it was almost a miracle,” the Dowager said. “Although I could not hear what you were saying because you were at the other end of the room, I knew that he was laughing and he no longer had that rather tight resentful note in his voice which he had immediately after he arrived and found that Guy already had a fiancée.”

  Ursa thought, as she had before, that, because the Dowager was blind, she was more sensitive to people’s voices, their feelings and especially their vibrations.

  “It is important,” she said aloud, “that Mr. Orestes should praise the Marquis to Her Majesty and I feel sure that is what he will do.”

  “I feel the same,” the Dowager said, “and it is all due to you, dearest child.”

  Ursa left the Dowager in the care of her lady’s maid and walked to her own room.

  She was wishing that when she returned home she could still see Lady Brackley.

  But she knew it would be impossible and certainly something that Penelope would not tolerate.

  It then struck her that she would also never be able to see the Marquis again.

  She was conscious of a sudden constriction in her heart.

  ‘I want to see him,’ she told herself. ‘I want to hear his voice. I want to know that he is happy.’

  Because such thoughts frightened her, she hurriedly talked to Marie about what she should wear for dinner.

  The dinner was an enjoyable one with the Marquis making them laugh.

  Alexis Orestes said when it was time to go to bed that he had enjoyed himself enormously.

  “As soon as you are married, my dear Marquis, perhaps on your honeymoon, you and your wife must come and stay with me. She is so knowledgeable about our Greek Temples and I have many interesting relics to show her.”

  Ursa drew in her breath, knowing he had implied that she had been to Greece.

  The Marquis did not seem to notice however and he merely replied,

  “Of course, that is something we would be delighted to do and anyway I shall have to come to Greece sooner or later to consult with you over the Battleships.”

  “I shall look forward to it with the greatest pleasure,” Mr. Orestes said.

  He bade the Dowager goodnight and then turned to Ursa saying,

  “You are so beautiful, Miss Hollington, that I know when you visit me every sculptor in Greece will want to make a statue of you and every artist paint your portrait.”

  “You are very kind, but nobody could compete with the beauties of Ancient Greece which you already possess.”

  She kissed Amelia goodbye, saying,

  “I shall hope to see you in the morning, if I do not oversleep.”

  As she went upstairs with the Dowager, she thought with a sigh of relief that it was over.

  There had been no difficulties, no problems and the Marquis was safe.

  When Marie left Ursa, she did not blow out the candles by her bedside.

  Instead she opened the book she had found in the library about the Charn family and The Court.

  She had already read most of it, but there were still a number of pages left.

  She wanted not only to read every word but also to remember it.

  She read ten pages and was just thinking that she would leave the rest until tomorrow.

  Suddenly she heard the communicating door into the boudoir open.

  She looked up in surprise as she saw the Marquis coming into the room.

  He shut the door behind him.

  Then, as he walked forward, she saw that he was wearing a long velvet robe that reached to the floor.

  It was frogged across the chest, which gave him a somewhat military appearance.

  As he came towards her, she gave a little gasp,

  “What has happened – what is wrong?”

  “There is nothing wrong,” the Marquis answered, “but I thought I would come and say goodnight to you and thank you again for making a success of what might have been a disaster.”

  He reached the bed as he spoke and sat down on the side of it so that he was facing her.

  The candles were shining on her hair, which fell over her shoulders nearly to her waist.

  As the Marquis looked at her, she suddenly felt shy and embarrassed.

  “Y-You should – not be – h-here – it is d-dangerous!” she stammered.

  “Everybody is fast asleep by now,” he answered, “and I was half-afraid that you would be the same.”

  “I am – glad that – everything has gone so well – for you,” Ursa said. “However – we must not take any chances.”

  “I want to thank you now,” the Marquis said, “and actually, it is something I have been wanting to do for a long time.”

  He bent forward as he spoke.

  Before Ursa could realise what was happening, he pressed her back against the pillows and his lips were on hers.

  For a moment she could not believe it was happening.

  Then, as his lips held hers captive, she felt as if a streak of lightning ran through her body.

  She had never been kissed.

  Yet it was exactly what she believed a kiss would be, but infinitely more marvellous.

  Because he felt her lips trembling beneath his, the Marquis drew her closer.

  His kiss became more possessive and more passionate.

  Suddenly Ursa felt his hand touching her breast.

  She realised what was happening and struggled against him.

  With a superhuman effort she turned her face away, saying as she did so,

  “No – oh, no! You must not – do this – please – no!”

  “Why should we pretend?” the Marquis asked. “I want you and I think you want me.”

  “B-but you – must not – k-kiss me,” Ursa gasped incoherently.

  “I cannot think why you should say that,” the Marquis argued. “After all, Lionel told me of the delightful weekend you spent together when Arthur was in Berlin and I don’t believe that Lionel is the first man to have been so fortunate.”

  There was a touch of cynicism in his voice.

  It made Ursa realise that he was thinking of her as Penelope.

  And what Penelope had done in the past she was doing again at this moment.

  Because she was shocked when she thought of her sister, Ursa struggled again.

  “Please – go away!” she begged. “Go away – at once! Y-you are not – to t-touch me – you are – not to – k-kiss me!”

  “I cannot believe that you mean that,” the Marquis said, “and, although you are playing hard to get, we may never have such a perfect opportunity again. Moreover, most beautiful Penelope, I find you irresistible!”

  Perhaps it was being called by her sister’s name that gave Ursa the strength that she had not had before.

  She was still feeling dazed and a little bewildered by the wonder of his kiss.

  But now she put both hands against his chest.

  “No – no!” she cried.

 
“And I say yes, yes!” the Marquis retorted.

  Again his lips were seeking hers.

  She was suddenly aware of how strong he was and that she was helpless.

  She struggled, but he was now lying on top of the bed and pulling her determinedly against him.

  His arms were tightly round her.

  It was then that Ursa knew what he intended and that she had to save herself.

  Otherwise she would be behaving in the same way that Penelope did.

  With a cry that was like that of a child, she pleaded,

  “P-please – listen to – me! There is – no one to h-help me – and I am – frightened!”

  For the first time the Marquis was still.

  “Frightened?” he questioned. “Why should you be frightened?”

  Looking down at her, he saw that her eyes were filled with tears, which were beginning to roll down her cheeks.

  “I-I am – f-frightened – because y-you are – so – strong – and I don’t – know how to s-stop y-you,” Ursa managed to stammer.

  “Why should you want to stop me?” the Marquis asked.

  “Because – what you – want me – to – d-do is – wrong – and w-wicked!”

  The words came without her thinking about them.

  The Marquis stared at her in sheer astonishment.

  “Wrong and wicked?” he repeated. “Why should you say that?”

  “It is – I know it – is,” Ursa sobbed, “and I do – not know – how to make you – understand.”

  “What am I supposed to understand?” the Marquis asked.

  Because he thought of her as Penelope, Ursa knew that she could not answer that question.

  She therefore said as the tears ran down her cheeks,

  “Please – please – leave me – I cannot explain – but you must – go away!”

  “I don’t understand,” the Marquis admitted. “You are very different from what I expected, but I still hoped, as I had heard a great deal about you – ”

  He spoke as if he was speaking to himself.

  Although his arms were still round her, he was not holding her so tightly, but his face was very near to hers.

  Quite suddenly he said in a different tone of voice,

  “I will be very gentle and let me explain to you, my darling, that I want you unbearably!”

  Ursa looked at him through her tears.