A Duke in Danger (9 page)

“It must have been a nightmare,” the Duke said sympathetically.

“It was,” Alvina agreed. “Every time I took something out of the safe, or a painting from the wall, I felt I was a traitor and was betraying the family trust, but what was more important than anything else was to keep those who were alive from dying.”

“Of course it was,” the Duke agreed, “and I can only thank you, Alvina, for being clever enough not to sell those t
h
ings which are specially precious both to you and to me and to all the Harlings who will follow on after us.”

His praise brought a flush to her face and she said: “Do you really ... mean you can ... afford to make things ... right again?”

“I am not going to tell you how much money your father left,” the Duke said, “because I think it would upset you, but I suggest we go back to the Castle and start to plan exactly what we shall do, starting from this moment.”

Then as he rose to his feet, he had an afterthought and said:

“I think that as I am the new Duke, people in the County may want to meet me. So, if you are staying with me, which I insist you do, you must have a Chaperone.”

He knew that Alvina looked at him in surprise, and he said:

“I am sure you will be able to persuade Miss Richardson to come back to the Castle and look after you and also forestall there being any criticism that you are not properly chaperoned.”

Quite unexpectedly Alvina laughed. It was a very young and joyous sound, and as the Duke stared at her, she explained:

“I am laughing because everything has been so frightening, so serious, and so utterly and desperately miserable, that it never struck me for one moment that I was a young lady in need of chaperoning.”

She laughed again before she said:

“Of course, Cousin Ivar, you are right, and I know Miss Richardson would be only too pleased to come back and leave this pokey little house in which she has been hiding from Papa.”

“How could he have sent her away after she had been with you for so long?” the Duke asked.

“She was another mouth to feed, and Papa was quite certain he could not afford it.”

The Duke swept away the frown from his face. “Then I suggest we celebrate the new era we are opening at the Castle, and be wildly extravagant. When we get back, I intend to ask Walton if we have such a thing as a bottle of champagne in the cellar.”

“Yes, there is,” Alvina said, and now there was a lilt in her voice. “When Papa said Walton was to go, I was so frightened that he might bring in some strange servants who would work for nothing that I made Walton give me the keys to the cellar.”

Her voice was serious as she went on:

“I hid them, having heard that the unemployed men wandering about the countryside could cause terrible ... trouble if they ... raided a place where there was ... drink of any sort.”

Now the Duke was definitely frowning again. He remembered the marauding bands of French deserters who had caused endless damage in France, and he asked:

“Are you telling me there has been rioting and thieving by the unemployed in England?”

“There have been terrible troubles,” Alvina replied. “I do not suppose it was reported in the French papers, or wherever else you have been, but English ones have been full of little else.”

She looked at him almost defiantly as she said:

“Do you realise that the men who fought for the freedom of this country, and who were, according to the Duke of Wellington, the finest Army England has ever had, were dismissed without a pension, a medal, or even a thank-you?”

The Duke knew this, but it seemed more poignant now that it was being expressed bitterly in Alvina’s soft voice. Then she added:

“Of course they are resentful! Of course they are desperate! And what do you think has been happening to those who were wounded and lost a leg or an arm? They are dying of starvation unless they can steal, and no-one can blame them for their violence in doing so.”

Almost as if it were his fault, rather than the Government’s, that the soldiers he had commanded and who had fought so valiantly were brought to such a pass, the Duke saw the sumptuous banquets he had attended in Paris and other big cities.

Almost as if she were standing beside him he could hear Isobel’s seductive voice thanking him for the orchids he had given her, which he realised had cost enough money to provide ten starving men with a good meal.

Before he could reply, Alvina said more quietly: “Now that you are home, perhaps you will be able to make those in Parliament and at the head of the Services realise that as far as this country is concerned, peace is worse than war.”

As the Duke finished what had been a surprisingly good dinner, waited on by Walton and two young men who had to be instructed
sotto voce
in everything they did, he sat back in his chair and said to Alvina:

“I have enjoyed my meal immensely, and I must not forget to congratulate Mrs. Johnson for remembering that her strawberry tart was always one of my favourite dishes.”

“Mrs. Johnson has never forgotten anything about you or anyone else in the family,” Alvina said. “When they knew that you were to be the next Duke, they were so glad that if it could not be Richard, it was you.”

She took a sip of champagne before she went on.

“I think we were all terrified that it might be Jason.”

The Duke was surprised.

“Do you know your cousin Jason?”

Alvina nodded.

“He came here to stay after Richard died, and I knew that as he was looking round he was thinking that with any luck, you would be killed too, and he would become the next Duke!”

She paused before she explained:

“He invited himself, and the manner in which he went from room to room, looking at everything and making, I thought, mental notes on their value, made me very ... afraid.”

“I can understand that,” the Duke said. “I have always disliked Jason, and actually I was told just before I left London that he was raising money on the chance of succeeding me in the title before I produce an heir.”

Alvina gave a little cry.

“You must be careful, very careful. I am sure he is a wicked, evil person, and he might murder you.”

The Duke stared at her for a moment, then he laughed.

“You are talking nonsense. I am quite certain that Jason would not go as far as that, but my friend Gerald Chertson actually warned me he would do anything to further his ambitions.”

“I am sure he is absolutely ruthless where his ambitions are concerned.”

“How can you be so positive?”

“Perhaps it is because I have been so much alone here. You will think I am over-imaginative,” Alvina replied, “but ever since I was a child, I have had instincts about people and I am never mistaken.”

“You mean you are clairvoyant?” the Duke asked almost mockingly.

“Not exactly,” Alvina answered, “but you know that the Harlings are a very mixed breed and our Celtic blood is very strong.”

The Duke raised his eye-brows as she explained:

“My grandmother was Irish, my great-grandmother was Scottish, and actually Mama had a great number of Welsh relations, although I have never met them.”

“If it comes to that,” the Duke said, “my great-grandmother was Scandinavian, which is why I was christened ‘Ivar.’ ”

“So you are perceptive, too.”

“I like to think I can judge a man without having to read references about him, and that if I follow my instinct where he is concerned, I am invariably right.”

“And you can do the same with women?”

“If I answer ‘yes,’ you will be able to retort that I was completely wrong in the way I judged you.”

“Did you ... really think I had taken that ... money for ... myself?” Alvina asked in a low voice.

“To be honest, I thought you might be giving it to some man you fancied and of whom your father did not approve.”

Alvina laughed.

“That was certainly very far from the mark! I do not think I have seen a young man for years. When Papa decided we were so hard-up that we could not entertain, he refused every invitation he received, and if anyone called, they were sent away ... usually rudely.”

“It must have been very lonely for you,” the Duke said sympathetically.

“It would have been much worse if I had not had books to read and dear Miss Richardson to talk to.” She looked at the Duke, and then as she thought he might contradict her, she said:

“She is a very exceptional person. Her father was an Oxford Don who wrote several books on Roman history which were acclaimed by every scholar in the country. The fact that she was capable of helping him with them shows that had she been a man, she would undoubtedly have been an outstanding scholar.”

“You were very well taught, then,” the Duke said.

“Of course I was,” Alvina said, “and thank you for asking her back here. She is very thrilled at the invitation.”

“You did ask her to dine with us tonight?” the Duke said quickly.

“I did, but she declined as her legs were paining her so much as they often do at night-time, and when she is in pain she prefers to be alone.”

“I see,” the Duke said. “We must get someone who specialises in rheumatism, or whatever she has, to see her.”

“Do you mean that?”

“There must be some Physician in London,” the Duke replied, “who has studied the rheumatic diseases which affect so many older people.”

Alvina put her hand palm upwards on the table. “How ... can you ... be ... so kind?” she said in a low, broken voice.

The Duke put his hand over hers. He could feel her fingers quiver almost as if he held a small bird in his grasp.

“I hated you,” Alvina said in a low voice, “first because you had taken Richard’s place and then because you did not answer my letter.”

“I can understand that,” the Duke said quietly.

“And then you were angry with me when you came here and I thought you were heartless and indifferent.” Her fingers tightened beneath his and she said:

“Now I am sorry I thought that.”

The Duke smiled.

“I think our Celtic instincts have broken down or gone on strike. They were certainly not working efficiently when we first met each other! That is why, Alvina, we have to start again.”

“We have started already,” Alvina said. “Mrs. Johnson has three girls in the kitchen, and Walton told me before dinner that he had another footman coming tomorrow from the village and other people who used to be in service here with the Harlings for years.”

Her fingers tightened again. Her eyes seemed to glow, partly because there were tears in them, and she said in a voice that was very low:

“Thank you, thank you, for being exactly the head of the family we want.”

Chapter
Four

Dr
iving back to
London, the Duke knew that, if he was honest, he had never enjoyed two days more.

Alvina had taken him round the Estate, both of them riding horses from the team that Gerald had bought him, which were not only perfectly broken as carriage-horses but excellent to ride.

After the old and somewhat indifferent horses which were all that Alvina had after her father had disposed of the stable, it was, the Duke realised, a thrill for her to be mounted on such perfect horse-flesh.

He also realised that she rode extremely well, and because she was so happy she looked, he thought, exceedingly attractive.

Her habit was old and worn but had once been well cut, and because she had really grown out of it, it revealed her very slim and very elegant figure.

The Duke had ridden with many beautiful women in Paris when it had been fashionable to appear every morning in the
Bois,
and also in Vienna with the alluring, auburn-haired Beauties who prided themselves on their horsemanship.

Nevertheless, he thought that his cousin could hold her own from an equestrian point of view.

The fact that she was excited by what he was planning to do made her face glow with a radiance which he seldom saw in a woman’s face unless he was making love to her.

They had sat up quite late last night, poring over the book in which Alvina had set down all of her expenditures since 1814 when her father first began cheese-paring.

At first, she had merely supplemented what she was given to pay for the food from what had been her dress allowance and from two hundred pounds which her mother had left her on her death.

Then, when her father became more determined that they were going bankrupt, she had started to pay the wages of the older servants whom he insisted must be dismissed.

However, he was by then confined to his bedroom and had no idea that they were still in the house.

“The Waltons, Mrs. Johnson, and Emma were all too old to leave,” Alvina said in her soft voice, “but some of the younger ones found other jobs. The footmen had to go onto the land or into the Services and they were very bitter at being turned away.”