Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

He wondered when she left him whether she would make some excuse not to dine with him, but she said nothing.

  When he went to his cabin, he found that, after being awake most of the night, his head began to nod and he slept until it was time to dress for dinner.

  Only when he was waiting for Militsa in the Saloon did Dawkins appear instead to say,

  “Her Serene Highness is fast asleep, Your Grace, and I thinks it would be a mistake to wake her.”

  “Yes, of course,” the Duke agreed. “Let her sleep. It’s the best thing for her.”

  *

  The next day Militsa was very apologetic.

  “I am sorry I left you to dine alone,” she said, “which you told me you did not like.”

  “It was entirely understandable in the circumstances,” the Duke replied. “You were very tired.”

  “I slept until Dawkins awoke me this morning to bring me my early morning tea.”

  The Duke told her how he too had fallen asleep in his cabin before dinner and she gave a little laugh.

  “Why are you laughing?” he enquired.

  “It is almost incredible to find that you have human frailties. You always seem to me to be so strong, almost omnipotent, that I cannot believe you ever have a cold or bleed if you prick your finger.”

  The Duke chuckled and realised that it was the first time Militsa had talked to him so lightly.

  When they had finished breakfast, he said,

  “I want to ask you something.”

  “What is it?” she enquired.

  “Nothing frightening,” he said. “I only want to know if you would mind if we proceed as we had intended to Monte Carlo.”

  “Is that where you wish to go?”

  “I sent instructions to open my villa, if you prefer we can change our plans and remain on the yacht.”

  Militsa was searching his face.

  “Which do you want to do?” she enquired.

  “I will be honest and say that I would like to go to Monte Carlo, if only for a day or so.”

  “Then, of course, I agree to that.”

  “Very well. We should be there tomorrow morning and thank you for being so amenable.”

  “I did not know I had ever been anything else.”

  “I can answer that quite easily,” the Duke said. “You are a woman and all women are unpredictable!”

  There was a faint smile on Militsa’s lips as she said,

  “You forget I have been with three men these last six years who have taught me, if nothing else, not to be a nuisance.”

  “That is certainly reassuring.”

  That evening after dinner, as they went to the Saloon, the Duke said,

  “This is our last night on board and I shall miss the quiet dinners we have had together. I was glad that we were alone rather than surrounded by other guests.”

  “I too was – glad.”

  Thinking perhaps that she had been over-effusive, a faint colour came into her cheeks.

  The Duke did not speak and after a moment’s silence, she said,

  “Were you going to talk to me about the – future?”

  “I thought there was no need, unless you feel that your debt can be cancelled now that I do have not to pay for your father’s operation.”

  “I still – owe you for what you have done for him and me – up until now,” Militsa said in a low voice, “and if you do not – want me – I am afraid I shall have to – borrow a little money from you, in order to live until I – can – find work.”

  “Then our agreement still stands.”

  His eyes met hers as he spoke and for a moment they looked at each other.

  Then because she was shy, with an effort she broke the spell between them by turning away.

  “I – think I should – go to bed.”

  “That is a good idea,” the Duke agreed, “and you should not tire yourself by reading until the early hours.”

  “How did you know I do that?”

  “Shall I say I have noticed the number of books that have been removed from their places, and which come back phenomenally quickly.”

  “That is how I know what to ask you about and, unless you tell me, how can I learn?”

  “The answer,” the Duke smiled, “is that you are doing the right thing, but not tonight, Militsa. We have a great deal to do tomorrow, so that is an order!”

  He knew she was curious, but she did not ask any questions.

  She only moved away with a grace that he found once again reminded him of a small wild animal that had never known the restrictions of captivity.

  They docked in Monte Carlo harbour long before the pleasure-seekers were awake and perhaps even before the last gamblers had left the casino.

  The Duke’s car, which he kept there, was waiting to carry them outside the town and up to the hills where his villa was situated.

  It was impressively spacious and had been built by his father in the last years of his life when his doctors had ordered him to a warmer climate.

  The late Duke had then spent a great deal of time and money in making the garden one of the most impressive sights in the Principality and, as Militsa stepped out of the car, she gave an exclamation of delight.

  The vivid beauty of the flowers contrasted with the dark high-pointed cypress trees and beyond them a wide vista of the sea was breathtaking.

  “It is so glorious!” she exclaimed. “Why did you not tell me? I did not imagine you owned such an enchanting place.”

  “I think that is somewhat of an obscure insult,” the Duke replied dryly.

  He thought that she glanced at him a little apprehensively in case he was angry.

  Then when she saw he was smiling, she said,

  “I think I was expecting your – taste to be more – conventional.”

  “What you are saying,” the Duke replied, “is that I am English and therefore unimaginative and unable to appreciate beauty in the same way as you do.”

  “That is not true!” she protested.

  He knew she was only being polite and that in fact was what she had really thought.

  Inside the villa the valuable collection of pictures on the white walls and the exquisitely woven rugs on polished floors were as lovely as the garden.

  Militsa walked round the pictures staring in delight and the Duke realised that this was another pleasure she had been starved of.

  “A Rubens!” she exclaimed. “Papa used to talk to me about his pictures. He tried to make me remember what they were like, but I found it difficult to recall all we had in our Palace in St. Petersburg.”

  “There are other rooms in the villa where you will find plenty to admire,” the Duke said, “but when we have had breakfast you will have a very different matter requiring your attention.”

  “What is – that?”

  “I ordered by telegram a large number of clothes to be ready for you on our arrival. Even so, when the dressmaker brings them, I expect that you will find there are various alterations to be made.”

  Militsa looked at him as if it was the last thing she expected and he knew that for one moment she was about to say that she could not accept them from him.

  Then reading her thoughts he sensed that she remembered her position and told herself that a mistress accepted what the man she had given herself to wished to give her.

  The Duke suspected that she had learned from Nancy that Dolly had a penchant for jewellery and that was what she was searching for in Constantinople.

  Militsa was too quick-witted not to be aware that because she was now, as Nancy had put it, a ‘very close friend’ of the Duke’s, he would pay for whatever jewellery was bought when they were together.

  He could almost see the way the thoughts were running through her mind.

  Then, as if she forced herself to be subservient, she said, “Thank – you.”

  “You can thank me when you look as beautiful as I want you to be,” the Duke said.

  He saw that she looked startled and ad
ded,

  “I appreciate beauty in the same way you do and, just as a picture requires the right sort of frame, so a beautiful woman should have the right clothes.”

  He saw that Militsa was thinking over what he had said and she was silent until a manservant came to the Duke’s side to say in French,

  “Madame Bertin has arrived, Monsieur le Duc. She says she has an appointment.”

  “That is correct,” the Duke said. “Show Madame Bertin up to Her Serene Highness’s bedroom.”

  The servant bowed and, when he left the room, Militsa asked,

  “How – many gowns may I – buy?”

  “That is all arranged,” the Duke replied. “I have given Madame Bertin my orders, but if there is anything you do not like, you must say so. When you have finished with her, send Madame down to me.”

  Militsa looked at him indecisively and after a moment he said,

  “Hurry! Otherwise the clothes that are waiting for you may prove merely figments of your imagination and fly out of the window! Then you will be left in the most fashion-conscious place in the whole world with nothing to wear except what you have on!”

  He thought as he spoke, there was no woman who could resist this and with an exclamation that was half a cry and half a laugh, Militsa left the room.

  There was a smile on the Duke’s lips as he walked through the open window and out into the flower-filled garden.

  *

  It was several hours later after Madame Bertin had gone that Militsa came shyly across the lawn to where the Duke was sitting comfortably in the shade reading a newspaper.

  He knew as she walked towards him in an expensive gown of pale blue chiffon that she was acutely conscious that she not only looked different but felt different.

  As she reached him, she looked at him with an expression in her eyes he had never seen before and said,

  “How can I – thank you for all the – wonderful clothes and everything else – the stockings – the shoes – the nightgowns? I did not even know such lovely things existed.”

  “You will soon get used to them,” the Duke said, “and I am sure like all women you will tell me you have nothing to wear!”

  Militsa laughed a little uncertainly.

  Then she said,

  “It will take – years to wear – everything I have – already,”

  She spoke without thinking.

  Then she glanced at the Duke as if she asked him silently how long she was to stay with him and whether it would be weeks or even days before he told her that she had paid her debt and he had no more use for her.

  In the afternoon he took her driving and, while she found Monte Carlo entrancing and the views breathtaking, the Duke was thinking that in the shady hat, the white shoes, gloves and the sunshade she looked ethereally beautiful.

  She would be, he was certain, the envy of the women who in the villas and restaurants were already discussing his arrival.

  The Siren in the harbour would have proclaimed his presence long before the newspapers wrote about him.

  If, however, anybody came to call, he and Militsa were not aware of it.

  He had instructed the servants to say that he was not at home and, as dusk fell with the swiftness of the time of the year and turned to darkness, the Duke said,

  “I am taking you out after dinner this evening and I want you to wear a special gown for the occasion that Madame Bertin told me she brought with her this morning.”

  “There was one very lovely one,” Militsa replied. “She said it was a ball gown, but I could not help wondering whether I would ever wear it.”

  “I promise you that you will attend quite a number of them.”

  He did not wait for her to ask questions, but went on,

  “Go and rest and wear that particular gown tonight, because it will please me.”

  She went upstairs and he did not see her again until she came down dressed for dinner.

  The gown was very different from the other evening dresses that Madame had brought with her.

  For one thing it was a picture gown and the hem touched the ground. It was white, embroidered with silver diamante, which shimmered in the light.

  To Militsa it was a fairy creation that she thought her mother might have worn at one of the great balls at the Winter Palace.

  She thought when she was dressed that perhaps that was what the Duke had in mind when he had ordered it.

  She was sure there was not only approval but also a glint of admiration in his eyes when he looked at her, but he only said,

  “You look charming! Dinner is ready. Shall we go in?”

  The chef in the villa was, if possible, even better than the one on board The Siren.

  Soon they were engaged in one of their fascinating arguments, which made Militsa feel as if she fenced with the Duke and had to parry every thrust he made.

  Yet, because he was so much cleverer than she was, he invariably broke through the guard.

  When dinner was over, the competent French maid who had helped Militsa dress was waiting in the hall with a velvet wrap edged with white fox and a lace scarf to cover her head.

  It was of exquisitely fine lace and so long that it reached over her shoulders to touch the hem of her gown.

  Knowing that the night was cold, she felt the Duke was preventing her, as he had aboard, from feeling the chill.

  A car was waiting and they drove downhill towards the sea.

  The Duke was rather silent after they had been talking so animatedly during dinner and Militsa wondered what he was thinking.

  ‘He is so kind – and I want to – thank him, even though he does not wish me to,’ she thought.

  The car came to a standstill and she realised that they were outside a house. Then to her surprise she saw there were only a few lights in some of the windows.

  “This villa belongs to a Russian who escaped the Revolution,” the Duke said. “He is not here at the moment, but I have something to show you.”

  He helped her out of the car and they entered a hall, which was filled with the fragrance of flowers. A servant took Militsa’s wrap, but the veil remained.

  The Duke drew her along the passage and, as they reached the end of it, there was the sound of music.

  It was soft and deep and seemed, Militsa thought, like the notes of an organ. She was immediately apprehensive in case there were people waiting for them.

  The Duke had given her his arm and now, as her fingers tightened on his, she said,

  “I-I shall not know – how to – behave.”

  The Duke stopped.

  “It is not a party,” he answered. “It is, in fact a private Chapel of the Russian Orthodox Church, which I know you belong to.”

  He saw the astonishment in her eyes.

  Then he said,

  “Your father told me to look after you and that is what I intend to do – as my wife!”

  Militsa was absolutely still.

  Then he knew that both her hands were holding on to him as if she was afraid she might fall.

  “Y-you are – asking me to – m-marry you?” she asked in a voice he could hardly hear.

  He shook his head.

  “I am not asking you – I am commanding you!” he said. “In the same way as you demanded my help and it is just as impossible for you to refuse.”

  He looked into her eyes as he spoke and Militsa knew that he meant what he said and there was nothing she could do but obey his command.

  He understood what she was feeling although she could not put it into words.

  Then he drew her forward through an open door into the light of the candles on the altar and those flickering in silver sanctuary lamps hanging from the arched roof.

  *

  Driving back towards the villa, Militsa felt as if she was in a dream it was impossible to awake from. The Service, the prayers that were said before the sacred icons, the lighted candles that she and the Duke held and the crowns that were held over their heads made a pattern o
f beauty that she knew she could never forget.

  It would always be there in her heart.

  As the Duke had made his responses in a deep voice and she heard her own replies, shy and a little tremulous, she felt her whole being vibrated to strange music, not of the organ, but which came from a paean of joy rising within her very soul.

  She felt herself carried away by a rapture that seemed to intensify from the moment the Duke put the ring on her finger and they knelt for the Blessing.

  Now she was alone with the man who was her husband, the man she had hated but for whom she now felt a very different emotion – one that was difficult to express even to herself.

  They reached the villa and, as they stepped out of the car, the Duke said,

  “There is some champagne upstairs in your sitting room so that we can drink to our future.”

  Militsa had had a brief glimpse of the boudoir that opened out of her bedroom.

  She was aware that it was beautiful like the rest of the villa and now as she and the Duke entered it, she found that it had been decorated with white flowers and, with the lights turned down low, it had a fairy tale-like loveliness that made it seem as unreal as the whole evening had been.

  Instinctively she stood looking about her and felt the Duke take her fur-lined wrap from her shoulders.

  He then removed the veil she had worn over her hair and she thought that she had been very foolish not to recognise it was a wedding veil.

  She looked at the Duke and saw that there was a faint smile on his lips and an expression in his eyes that she had not seen before.

  The question that was uppermost in her mind came impulsively to her lips.

  “How can you have – wanted to – marry me?”

  “I knew when your father died and you turned to me for comfort,” the Duke replied, “that I had to look after you, not in the way you had offered, but for the rest of our lives.”

  “Is that – what you – want?” Militsa questioned.

  “I think I can tell you more eloquently what I want without words.”

  He moved towards her as he spoke.

  Then, as his arms went round her, he felt her quiver as she hid her face against his shoulder.

  “This is how I held you before,” he said quietly, “and I knew then that I had fallen in love.”

  What he said was so surprising that Militsa raised her eyes to look up at him and, as she did so, she found his lips were very close to hers.