Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

  One of the richest men in England, he had no reason to exert himself except in looking after his huge estates and producing an heir to carry on the ancient title.

  The Dukedom was comparatively new, having been awarded to his grandfather by Queen Victoria for his services in building up the Empire, but the Earls of Minster went back to the sixteenth century and their name was interwoven in the history of Great Britain.

  What the Duke was finding now in a mundane world was that Government was in the hands of small-minded politicians and there was no place for a Duke, however intelligent he might be.

  He therefore sank back into the Social life that had centred around him before 1914 and he found himself giving the same parties with the same lavishness at the same time of year for the same reasons as he had done ever since he had inherited the Dukedom at the age of twenty-one.

  The only thing that had changed were the women who amused him, because those who had captured his fancy before the war were now too old.

  At thirty-five the Duke was finding even the pretty faces, the tinkling voices and the inevitable flattery that every woman accorded him could with repetition become boring.

  Women were attracted to him not only because of his title.

  Well over six foot tall, broad-shouldered and extremely good-looking, he would, his men friends often thought, have been devastating even had he been a nobody.

  But with the aura of his wealth and rank he had become a commanding figure who dominated London Society and of course the gossip columns.

  It was understandable that ‘the Buckminster Set’, as it was called, should be of intense interest to those who eagerly opened the more popular newspapers to learn what they were doing day by day.

  As Lord Northcliffe had said to his editors,

  “Get names into the newspaper and the more aristocratic the better!”

  There was therefore hardly a day when the Duke of Buckminster’s name did not appear in the Press and no magazine that did not carry a photograph of him.

  Looking at his face, Harry Nuneaton realised that the lines of cynicism which had begun to show even before the war were now becoming more and more prominent.

  There was also a dry mocking note in his voice to be heard not occasionally, but almost continually and, what to Harry was more significant, a hard look in his grey eyes that was very different from how they had looked during the war.

  Harry Nuneaton, although three years older than the Duke, had been with him almost continuously during the four long years of hostilities.

  They had suffered the same hardships, the same unpleasant moments of intense danger and the same feelings of horror at the atrocities that had been perpetrated both by the Germans and by the tribesmen of the Middle East.

  The Turks had also been cruel to a fallen enemy, which did not surprise him and, because they had both condemned the way they had treated their prisoners, Harry was surprised that the Duke was visiting Constantinople while their experiences were still fresh in their memories.

  It was in fact Dolly who had been determined that the yacht should take them up the Sea of Marmara to what had always been called ‘The Pearl of the East’.

  Harry, who had not been there before, was quite certain that it would prove to be nothing of the sort, but Dolly had been very determined and, as the Duke still found her alluring, although Harry fancied he was beginning to tire a little, she had got her way.

  “Why I really want to visit Constantinople,” she said frankly, “is to see if I can buy some of the marvellous Russian sables or better still the incredible jewels that I hear those who escaped from the Bolsheviks have been selling in the bazaars.”

  What she meant was that if they were obtainable, the Duke would buy them for her and Harry, who knew the value of the gems he had already given her, had asked with a twist of his lips,

  “Still collecting, Dolly? I should have thought you might have enough by this time!”

  She had not been annoyed at his impertinence and had merely laughed.

  “What woman ever has enough jewels?” she enquired. “And, as you are aware, Buck can afford it.”

  Harry had to admit that jewels became her.

  She was extremely beautiful in the new modern way that had little in common with the tall Junoesque beauties who had dominated the scene at the beginning of the century.

  With her fair fluffy hair, large blue eyes and a perfect pink-and-white complexion, Dolly symbolised the beauty that the men in the trenches had yearned for and prayed that they would remain alive to find when the war was over.

  She had a natural gaiety that made everything she said and did seem a joke.

  Her feet were made for dancing and her slim body, again very unlike that of the previous generation, seemed more like a boy’s than a girl’s.

  But she was entirely feminine and had developed the desire and the intention to make a man pay and pay for her favours, being certain in her own mind, although she was too clever to say so, that men only appreciated what was expensive and hard to obtain.

  Having an ambitious mother who arranged a brilliant marriage for her at eighteen, Dolly at twenty-four as the Countess of Chatham became the leader of a smart young married set that adorned the nightclubs of London and Paris.

  When she was clever enough to captivate the attention of the Duke of Buckminster, it was a triumph that vibrated through the dancing world and made the Dowagers, who still had some sense of propriety, shake their heads.

  “Dolly Chatham and Buckminster!” they said disapprovingly to each other. “No good will come of that!”

  Six months later they were asking what Robert was doing to allow his wife to get herself talked about in such an outrageous fashion.

  The Earl as it happened was not particularly interested.

  Rather like the Duke he was finding peace a bore and the duty of continually squiring a very beautiful wife to parties and nightclubs where she invariably danced with other men was not to his taste.

  As he could no longer kill Germans, he had gone out to Africa to shoot big game and, if he was aware of the endless talk and speculation about his wife and the Duke, it did not trouble him.

  Perhaps it was just a desire for more jewellery that had made Dolly suggest that they should go yachting at Easter or perhaps like Harry she had become aware that Buck was straining a little at the leash and if she wished to keep him she would have to strive to amuse him.

  The Duke was quite amenable to leaving London and going in search of the sun.

  He also wanted to try out his new yacht, which was the largest in commission since the war and on which he had spent much time not only improving the design, but also adding many gadgets of his own invention.

  She had been named The Siren and there was a great deal of speculation in the gossip press as to which particular woman he had in mind.

  Whoever she might have been when he first chose the name, there was no doubt that Dolly had appropriated both the title of the yacht and the position of hostess on this voyage.

  She had chosen the other guests with care.

  Lord and Lady Radstock were both close friends of the Duke and Nancy Radstock was her greatest friend – so far as it was possible for her to have a woman friend at all.

  Nancy had the advantage from Dolly’s point of view of being no rival when it came to looks and yet she was always welcomed by the Duke because she was so amusing.

  She made him laugh and she prevented there being any awkward moments by her quick wit.

  She also unashamedly announced that she wanted to spend as much of her life as possible with the Duke in any part of the world he wished to be, simply because she preferred luxury to the awful effort of keeping up appearances on ‘poor George’s income’.

  “I am not pretty enough to be a gold-digger,” she would say disarmingly, “so I have to be a sponger. You don’t mind, do you, Buck, dear?”

  The Duke would laugh at such honesty and occasionally give her small pre
sents for which she would be effusively grateful and sensible enough not to be jealous of the enormous amount he expended on Dolly.

  It was well known amongst the Duke’s friends that he was generous only when it suited him. In other ways he could be quite tight-fisted.

  Harry had always thought this was due to his conviction that because he was so wealthy almost everybody was out to trick him in some way.

  It infuriated him that there should be one price for him and another for more ordinary people.

  Because from an early age he had determined not to be made a fool, he scrutinised every bill and was known to dismiss any employee who attempted in any way, however trivial, to cheat him.

  It had been sensible when he first inherited, but now it had become an obsession and Harry had begun to think that his hardness and cynicism was ruining what was otherwise a very lovable character.

  But he was too tactful to say so aloud and he had the feeling now that the Duke was resenting Dolly’s determination to make him pay for more spoils in Constantinople than were really justified by their relationship.

  “You cannot put the clock back, Buck,” he said aloud, “and I think you will find that, when the country has settled down, there will be things to do that you will find interesting.”

  “It is six years since the war ended,” the Duke replied, “and everything still seems chaotic.”

  “It is bound to be,” Harry said. “With a million men killed and far too many unemployed, our factories out of date, and without enough export orders to get production going again, things are bound to be difficult.”

  “I am fed up with politics,” the Duke said in a disagreeable voice.

  He felt like this because the politicians would not listen to him and there was no definite part for him to play in the rehabilitation of the country.

  Because he wished to change the subject, Harry remarked,

  “I shall be interested to see what is happening in Turkey. I have always thought that, while it is one thing to dispose of the Sultan, it is another to abolish the Office and all that it administered.”

  The Duke knew that he was speaking sense.

  Mustafa Kemal, the military genius who was trying to create the Republic of Turkey, had realised that the Sultanate could not be allowed to continue, but it was going to be difficult to find sensible alternative to put in its place.

  The Sultan himself, in the company of a few eunuchs and personal servants, his jewels packed away in heavy trunks, had slipped out of the Yildiz Kiosk on a bleak November day and boarded a British battleship, which had taken him to Malta.

  But he had not taken the problems of Turkey with him and there were still many other drastic changes to be made in the Constitution.

  It was a subject that Harry was longing to talk about, but the Duke was lying back in his chair in somewhat gloomy silence and he thought it would be wise to speak of other matters.

  “By the way,” he said, “the Captain tells me that he has been warned that we should be careful of what we eat if at any port we go ashore. In fact it sounds as if we would be wise to stay for meals anyway on the yacht.”

  “I had no intention of doing anything else!” the Duke snapped. “And, if Dolly thinks that I am going to trail around that labyrinth of bazaars looking for jewels, which I very much doubt will even exist, she will be mistaken!”

  “She will be disappointed,” Harry said with a smile.

  He had the feeling that the Duke shrugged his shoulders and thought that Dolly was letting her greed override her better judgement.

  He thought that perhaps he should warn her and then wondered why he should bother.

  He had seen the Duke pass through many love affairs and one thing was inevitable, sooner or later they ended and, as soon as one woman slipped out of his life, she was replaced by another.

  Then, as if thinking of her made her appear like a genie obeying the call of the Master, Dolly came bursting into the Saloon.

  She was looking extremely attractive in an expensive fur coat, which was a present from the Duke, with a little hat of the same fur worn over her fair hair that was fluffed fashionably out at the sides.

  Her lips were a provocative crimson, her skin almost dazzlingly pink-and-white and her blue eyes seemed to echo the sky.

  “Buck!” she exclaimed, as she entered like a breeze blowing from the snows of Russia. “I have been waiting for you! Do come and look at the City! It’s too, too entrancing!”

  It was fashionable to talk in an exaggerated manner about everything and Dolly was the epitome of fashion.

  “It’s too cold!” the Duke replied. “I cannot think why we did not stay in Monte Carlo, at least it was warmer there.”

  “But not half so fascinating!” Dolly said, “and I understand that we can now visit the Sultan’s palace and even see the Harem!”

  She gave a little laugh and sat down on the arm of the Duke’s chair to say,

  “It is bad luck for you that there are no alluring houris there, but it would be amusing to see where they once were incarcerated. I wonder what they did that made them so attractive.”

  “There are no prizes for the answer to that question,” Harry laughed.

  “I am not sure,” Dolly said, “George has been reading books about Constantinople and he says that every newcomer to the Harem had to pass through a ‘School of Love’ before the Sultan saw her. I want to know what she learned.”

  “I doubt if you would find it very amusing,” the Duke said in a cold voice, “and the penalty for failure was to have your feet weighed with lead and to be thrown into the Bosphorus by attendants kept for that special purpose!”

  “Is that what you intend to do when you are bored with me?” Dolly asked. “As I cannot swim, you would not even have to put weights on my feet – just push me overboard!”

  She spoke as though she expected the Duke to protest that it was something that would never happen.

  Instead he commented,

  “It’s certainly a good way of disposing of things that are no longer wanted on the voyage!”

  “I think you are being beastly to me,” Dolly protested, “and I have no wish to stay here talking. I want to see the minarets and domes and, if you will not tell me which Mosque they belong to, then I shall have to find somebody who will!”

  Again she spoke provocatively, but the Duke did not rise to the bait.

  “Ask the Captain. He knows these waters well and is actually a mine of information.”

  Dolly pouted her red lips.

  “You are being a teeny bit disagreeable, my pet, and I find it too, too damping, so I shall go back on deck. Come and join us when you feel more cheerful.”

  She put her hand as she spoke into the Duke’s, but, as he did not seem very responsive, she stood up and walked across the Saloon, giving Harry Nuneaton a dazzling smile as she passed him.

  There was no doubt that she was very lovely, but Harry thought as he always had done, that there was something lacking in Dolly – something that made her, despite her looks, a little ordinary when she should have been exceptional.

  The Duke picked up the newspaper that was lying beside him on the floor and, because Harry sensed that he wished to be alone, he too left the Saloon and, putting on a heavy overcoat, he went on deck.

  Dolly with Nancy and George Radstock was leaning over the rail looking at the Mosque of Suleiman the Magnificent with its four pointed minarets silhouetted against the skyline.

  It was certainly a very lovely sight and the waters of the Golden Horn reflected the blue of the sky and shimmered in the sun.

  At the same time it was cold and it was not surprising that Dolly and Nancy were snuggled into their fur coats and occasionally stamped their feet because their ankles in their silk stockings felt the chill wind.

  “As soon as we dock, I want to go ashore,” Dolly said.

  “It will be too late by then,” George Radstock replied. “You will have to wait until tomorrow. I cannot imagine
the bazaars are very salutary places to be in after dark.”

  “I suppose that is where we will find the jewels?” Dolly persisted.

  “If there are any to be had, that is where they will be,” George Radstock replied, “but quite frankly, I think we are too late.”

  “Too late?”

  “The Revolution in Russia took place in 1917, seven years ago,” George explained, “and although obviously the aristocrats did not all leave at once, those who escaped from the Bolsheviks would, I reckon, have reached Constantinople two or three years later. So their jewels would all have been sold before now.”

  “You are depressing me,” Dolly said crossly. “Several people in London told me that they had recently seen fantastic necklaces, tiaras and brooches for sale if only they had had enough money to buy them.”

  “Well, if Buck is willing, that will not happen to you,” Harry said a little sarcastically.

  “Of course he will buy me what I want,” Dolly replied quickly, a little too quickly.

  “Be sure he buys the genuine article,” Harry cautioned. “Buck dislikes being taken for a mug.”

  Dolly looked at him wide-eyed.

  “Are you suggesting that there might be imitations for sale?”

  “Why not? The Oriental craftsman is a very clever fellow. If he can palm you off with an emerald that is only a bit of green glass or a diamond which is really crystal, he will do so.”

  “We must be careful, very very careful,” Dolly said with a note of concern in her voice. “Nothing would upset Buck more than if he was deceived by a fake!”

  “If you take my advice,” Harry said, “you will go to a reputable jeweller. You may have to pay a bit more, but at least you would know you were buying the genuine article.”

  Dolly gave a cry.

  “But that would not be half as much fun as finding a real bargain that had once belonged to a Russian aristocrat on some cheap stall where the seller has no idea of its value.”

  “What you are really saying,” Harry responded sharply, “is that you are trying to find jewellery that has been stolen from some wretched woman, who has been fleeing for her life and has had to sell it at a knock-down price to save herself from starvation.”