Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

  After Harry had left, the yacht began to move.

  As the Duke went to the bridge to see them steam out of harbour, he thought that he had never expected to spend such a very short visit to Egypt.

  Now with his party dispersed, he was left only with a very ill old man and a girl who had no wish to talk to him.

  It struck the Duke that this was his opportunity to make her do so.

  Whatever other plans had been changed, the challenge Militsa offered him was still there.

  He thought of how he had accused her of having ‘a burning pride’ and how she had said it was the only thing she had left.

  ‘How can I convince her,’ he thought, ‘that there are many other things in the world and that pride can be a very poor substitute for friendship and of course – love?’

  The word surprised him and he recalled how Prince Ivan had said that perhaps he would be able to find her a husband.

  ‘There will be plenty of men in Monte Carlo who will find her attractive,’ he told himself.

  As she disliked the English so much, he wondered what other nationalities would gain her approval.

  The Siren was steering a course between a number of small boats, their sails billowing out in the wind.

  The sea was very blue and in the sunshine everything seemed to have a golden glimmer about it.

  ‘The Princess should look at this,’ the Duke reflected and again he felt irritated by the way she made herself so inaccessible.

  ‘A burning pride and high disdain,’ he quoted to himself and thought nothing could describe her better.

  But that was all a lot of nonsense, he thought, for someone so young and inexperienced.

  ‘Dammit all!’ he vowed, ‘I will make her obey me.’

  He was so long on the bridge that, when he finally left it, the sun had lost its warmth.

  The Duke went inside and was just thinking that it was time for him to call on the Grand Duke when Dawkins appeared to say,

  “Her Serene Highness wishes to speak to you in your cabin, Your Grace.”

  “I will go there at once,” the Duke replied. “Is His Royal Highness awake?”

  “No, Your Grace. He is asleep and I think the doctor’s medicine helped as he was in a bit of pain before he drank it.”

  “Then let him sleep as much as he can,” the Duke advised. “I have told the Captain to sail us to Monte Carlo as quickly as possible.”

  He moved away as he spoke wondering what Militsa had to say to him.

  When he had told her father that he had to have an operation and the best man to do it was in Monte Carlo, the Grand Duke had accepted it quite philosophically, but Militsa had become very pale and clasped her hands together.

  She had said nothing and the Duke had gone on,

  “I am told Doctor Schmidt is brilliant, especially at the kind of surgery that your father needs. And I happen to know, he has a modern, well-equipped hospital in Monte Carlo with every comfort.”

  “I am sorry that you have had to change your plans,” the Grand Duke said. “It is very gracious of you.”

  He spoke with the old-world courtesy that had given him an unmistakable charm in the old days.

  “Quite frankly,” the Duke answered, “I don’t mind missing Cairo, which I have always thought is a noisy place and I know that Prince Ivan will represent my interests as well as if not better than I could do myself.”

  “He is very grateful for your kindness, as I am, for what you have done for Alexander,” the Grand Duke said.

  “Now all that is important,” the Duke replied, “is to get you into the hands of Doctor Schmidt and we will start as soon as our provisions are aboard.”

  The Grand Duke smiled.

  “I certainly would not wish you to leave those behind!”

  Now, as he waited for the Princess in his cabin, the Duke remembered that, while her father had thanked him again when he left the cabin, she had said nothing.

  He had glanced at her and her eyes had seemed very large and dark in her pale face. He had thought it was due to the shock of knowing that her father had to undergo an operation and that it was rather foolish of him to have expected anything else.

  The door opened.

  “Her Serene Highness, Your Grace!” Dawkins said.

  She came in and the Duke saw that she was different and it took him a second to realise why.

  For the first time since he had met her she was wearing a light coloured dress and he knew that it was the one that Prince Ivan had bought for her before he caught the train.

  It was a very simple gown of a thin muslin that women wore in the tropics and had obviously been a cheap purchase in one of the many small cave-like shops situated by the docks.

  The dress was of a flowered material on a white background and, although it was a little too large for the Princess, it was at least a fashionable length reaching just above the ankles. The Duke realised that for the first time she was wearing stockings, which the Prince must also have bought.

  He could see now that she had slim elegant ankles, but she was still wearing the battered slippers that she had worn ever since she came on board.

  Nevertheless she looked very different without her threadbare gown and the red tablecloth that had kept her warm until they reached the sun of Egypt.

  In fact, the Duke thought, the pale colour of her dress made her look more beautiful than she had before and certainly much younger.

  It seemed to lighten her skin, her hair and even her eyes, but he was aware as soon as he looked at her that she was troubled about something and he thought that if she was apprehensive about her father’s operation, which indeed she had every reason to be, he must somehow try to reassure her.

  “I want to – speak to – you,” the Princess stammered.

  Now it struck him that she was talking in a different voice, shy and a little hesitating, which was quite unlike the aloof imperious tone she had addressed him in in the past.

  “I am delighted that you should wish to do so,” the Duke replied. “Shall we sit down?”

  He indicated the chair where she had sat once before when he had known that she was hiding the fact that she was wearing no stockings.

  He seated himself opposite her and waited.

  Because she had been so difficult up until now, he saw no reason to make it easy for her or even to try to anticipate what she had to say.

  “I-I don’t know how to – begin,” she said a little helplessly.

  “If you are going to express your gratitude,” the Duke said, “may I point out that your father has been very eloquent on the subject and quite frankly I do not like being thanked.”

  “I don’t think that is true,” the Princess replied, as if she felt that she must argue. “Everybody likes appreciation.”

  The Duke smiled.

  “Very well, I will listen to you if all you wish to say is ‘thank you’.”

  “I do thank you,” the Princess said, “but that – is not all.”

  The Duke was puzzled.

  “I am of course more grateful,” she went on, “than I can ever put into words that you will not only give up your plans of visiting Cairo to take Papa to Monte Carlo, but that you will also – pay for his – operation.”

  The last words came out in a sudden rush, and now the Duke knew why she had asked to see him and why she was embarrassed and shy.

  “Shall I say that I am pleased to do anything within my power to help your father,” he said.

  “That is – not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  Again there was a hesitation and now she looked down, her eyelashes very dark against her pale cheeks.

  “I am – wondering how I can – repay you.”

  It was what he might have expected, the Duke surmised.

  It had in fact never struck him that Militsa, who had mended Nancy’s clothes all the way to Alexandria, would still feel it incumbent upon herself to pay what would undoubtedly be a very large
sum for her father’s operation.

  The Duke knew that in Monte Carlo of all places any doctor would expect a Harley Street fee or even double for his services.

  However, what it would cost was quite immaterial to him and now, as he realised what was worrying Militsa, he thought it would be interesting to know how she proposed to repay him for his generosity.

  She was waiting for his answer and he said,

  “You can hardly be expected to be responsible for your father’s debts.”

  “But – I must stay with him,” the Princess said sharply.

  “Of course,” the Duke agreed.

  “And that will cost you money.”

  “Naturally.”

  There was silence.

  Then she said,

  “I-I know that you – dislike my p-pride – but it is something that is – born in me.”

  “That we have already established,” the Duke answered, “but in this instance you will have to bury your pride, however unpleasant you may find it and accept my charity, if that is what you wish to call it.”

  He was being provocative and wondered if her eyes would flash at him as they had done before.

  But she still looked down at her hands in her lap and he thought as he followed her gaze how long, thin and aristocratic her fingers were and how shapely the hands themselves.

  “I have – something to – suggest,” the Princess said at length in a voice that was hardly audible.

  “I am curious to know what your suggestion will be,” the Duke replied.

  It flashed through his mind that perhaps she intended to give him an I.O.U. for the future when she had found the employment she intended to bring her in some money.

  He thought a little mockingly that, if she had to earn what she and her father would cost him one way and another, it would certainly take her a long time to refund it.

  Then he was aware that the Princess was finding it difficult to put what she was thinking into words.

  For the first time he could see that she was very tense and even trembling a little.

  In the same impersonal voice he had spoken to her in before, he said,

  “Tell me what is in your mind. It cannot be all that difficult.”

  “I-it – is difficult,” the Princess said, “but – I know I have to – say it.”

  “I am listening.”

  “Lady Radstock,” she began so hesitantly that he could hardly hear, “told me that the b-beautiful Lady Chatham was a – very close – friend of yours.”

  The Duke was surprised. This was certainly not what he had expected the Princess to say.

  He did not interrupt and she went on,

  “I think Lady Radstock meant that she was – something more than a f-friend – and as I know from what I have read and heard that men – need a – w-woman I thought – perhaps – if I took her place – it would prevent me from being so – deeply in your – d-debt.”

  The Duke was completely astounded.

  Whatever he had expected the Princess to say to him, it was certainly not this.

  And yet he could understand the way her mind had reasoned out that she had nothing to offer him except her own body.

  Because he was English and because she disliked him, the sacrifice she was making to her own pride, in such a courageous manner, took his breath away.

  For the moment he only stared at her thinking that he must have misunderstood what she had said.

  Because he was silent she looked up at him questioningly, her eyes dark and frightened, seeming to fill her whole face.

  “You are – shocked – ” she said in the same low hesitating voice she had used before, “but I have – nothing else.”

  Nothing else, the Duke thought, except a beauty that would stun most men and which was innocent, untouched and, as he was well aware, unawakened.

  He thought in these modern times where in the emancipation of women they had learned all too quickly about their own attractions and the easy way they could obtain everything they desired, Militsa was entirely unique.

  She might have come from another planet or from the moon itself into some alien world in which really she had no part because, when it had moved from one set of principles, morals and ideals to another, she had remained behind.

  She was unchanged, beautiful and as pure as one of the Greek statues that he hoped later Prince Ivan might find for him in Greece.

  She was looking at him anxiously, her eyes searching his face, as if she could read in his expression his reply to what she had just offered him.

  As he too found it difficult to find words to express himself with, the Duke rose from his chair to walk across the cabin to the porthole.

  Outside the sea was still blue and the horizons had already vanished in the mist since the sun had gone down and it would soon be dark.

  He had a strange feeling that he had stepped into some mythical world that had nothing in common with the life he had been living these last six years.

  Then he remembered what had been said and turned, knowing that Militsa was holding her breath while she waited.

  He deliberately spoke in the same indifferent voice that he had used before.

  “I am of course,” he said, “prepared to tell you that what you have suggested is quite unnecessary and I am more than willing to give both you and your father anything you require without any strings attached.”

  Militsa made a little gesture with her hands and it was the first time she had moved since she had sat down, but she did not speak and the Duke went on,

  “Yet, because I understand your feelings and your pride regarding being in my debt, of course, I accept your offer.”

  He thought she gave a little sigh, but whether it was one of relief or despair he was not sure.

  She was still for a moment and then she too rose to her feet.

  “You will – understand,” she said, “that, as I am very – ignorant about such – things, I would not – know what to – do.”

  The Duke felt that the last word came to her lips with difficulty and now she was no longer looking at him but at the books on the wall beside him.

  He had the feeling, however, that she was not seeing them, but reinforcing her own pride within herself and forcing down her fears, trying instead to be glad because she had got her own way and had assuaged her own pride.

  “I suggest,” the Duke said, “that you leave everything in my hands. There is no need to be in a hurry as we have not only a considerable voyage in front of us but your father will doubtless be in hospital for a long time.”

  Militsa inclined her head and he went on,

  “For the moment I would like you to dine with me tonight because like all Englishmen, I dislike dining alone.”

  “I-I will – do that.”

  Her voice was so low that he could hardly hear it.

  Then, almost as if she had reached the end of her tether, she said,

  “Could I – now please – go and see if Papa is – awake?”

  “Yes, of course,” the Duke agreed, “and if he is feeling well enough, please send Dawkins to find me and I will come and talk to him.”

  He opened the cabin door as he spoke.

  She did not look at him as she passed him, but he knew with the instinct he had used before where she was concerned that she was vividly conscious of him and she was also afraid.

  After he had closed the door behind her, he sat down at his desk and stared across the cabin.

  He was alone, but he could still feel the vibrations of fear that Militsa had left behind.

  Chapter Seven

  The Duke, leaning over the rail and watching the sun rise, was aware that the door onto the deck had opened and Militsa had come through it.

  Without moving or turning his head, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she took a few steps towards the bow of the ship and then saw him.

  She stood still and he sensed that she was debating in her mind whether to turn and walk away quickly
in the opposite direction supposing that he had not noticed her.

  Then, as if she had told herself that not only would she be running away but he had a right to her presence if he required it, she walked towards him.

  Still he did not move and only when she stood beside him did he say in a quiet normal tone,

  “Good morning, Militsa. You are up early!”

  “Papa has had a bad night,” she answered. “He fell asleep only a little while ago after Dawkins had given him a very large dose of his special medicine.”

  The Duke was aware of how worried she was and he said consolingly,

  “We will be in Monte Carlo in three days from now.”

  Militsa gave a little sigh.

  Then, as if she somehow felt comforted by his reassurance, she leaned against the rail as he was doing and gazed out to sea.

  She was standing farther from him than any other woman would have done, but the Duke knew that it was a positive step forward in their relationship that she remained with him at all.

  Ever since they left Cairo he had been playing a game that intrigued and enthralled him until he felt that every move that he made and hers in response was being planned as if on a chessboard.

  The first night when they had dined together he had known when she came into the Saloon before dinner how nervous and tense she was.

  She looked very lovely in the dress that was made in the same style and in the same cheap material as the one she had worn in the morning.

  This one was a pale pink in colour with a pattern of small roses on it and the Duke thought it gave her a young fairy-like quality that she had not had before.

  It also accentuated the translucent light of her skin, the strange shadows in her hair and the mysterious darkness of her eyes.

  Even though they had a depth that made them mysterious they were still very expressive.

  “I think, as this is the first night we have eaten together,” the Duke suggested, as she came across the Saloon towards him, “that you should have a glass of champagne. I have one ready for you.”

  He put it into her hand as he spoke and he wondered if she had ever drunk champagne before, having been too young to be allowed it in the days when it flowed like water in the extravagant, exotic palaces in St. Petersburg.