The Storms Of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “I doubt it,” the Duke said dryly. “In fact I was convinced from the way your mother spoke that you really are part of the deal.”

  There was silence before she asked,

  “Do you really think Mama can – force me into – marrying you?”

  “Only if I am to be Viceroy of India!”

  Again they were both silent until Aldora said,

  “Would you mind – very much if you had to – refuse?”

  “I don’t think that it is a question of my refusing the position,” the Duke answered. “What the Queen and your mother have concocted between them is that if our engagement is announced I shall be approached by the India Office.”

  His voice was slightly mocking as he went on,

  “I suppose most men would jump at the idea of being Viceroy, so I don’t expect that I can prevaricate for more than a few days.”

  He smiled a little wryly before he corrected his last words by saying,

  “It is actually a case of awaiting your decision, not mine!”

  Unexpectedly Aldora stamped her foot.

  “It’s extremely unfair and typical of Mama!” she said. “If only Papa was alive, he would not allow her to behave in such a way!”

  Her voice softened as she went on,

  “He was deeply distressed that Mary and Phoebe were so unhappy and he always said to me, ‘that shall never happen to you, my dearest. You must marry for love or remain with me!’”

  “Your father was right,” the Duke said quietly.

  “I know and there is – nobody I love.”

  She made it sound a challenge, as if she defied the Duke even to think of love where he was concerned.

  Then he began tentatively,

  “Suppose – ?”

  “No!” Aldora interrupted. “No, no, no! I am well aware of what you are going to say and the answer is ‘no!’ Why should I care whether you are the Viceroy or the Sultan of Zanzibar? You are nothing in my life and I wish, when the races are over, never to see you again!”

  “Very well,” the Duke said. “If that is your final decision, there is no point in our going on talking about it. And now, I suppose, as it must be very nearly dawn that we should return home and have a few hours’ sleep before we watch my horse win the Goodwood Cup!”

  Aldora gave a little laugh.

  “I should not be too sure!” she said. “My ‘Eye’ may find an outsider who will romp home.”

  “In which case,” the Duke said, “I shall see that you are tested on the ducking stool as a witch for putting a spell on me!”

  Aldora laughed again.

  “I might even do that!” she threatened.

  She did not wait for the Duke’s answer, but walked out into the courtyard towards the stable.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  By the time they had saddled Aldora’s horse, put a bridle on Caesar and came out into the courtyard, dawn had broken.

  Now the first pale fingers of the sun were sweeping away the last sable of the night and because of the rain the whole world smelt fresh and fragrant.

  The Duke lifted Aldora into the saddle and then mounted his own horse.

  There had been no sign of the publican and the Duke suspected that he had retired to bed, so he left a guinea on the table just inside the door.

  It was gross overpayment for what they had received in the dirty inn, but he was grateful that he had found Aldora and did not have to go any further in search of her.

  At the same time, as they rode away, the Duke was regretting that he could not go to India.

  He knew that in the circumstances there would be no point in his even discussing it with the Queen or the India Office.

  He thought a little wryly as they rode along the road that it was the first time in his life that a woman had prevented him from doing what he wanted.

  It was also the first time that a woman had hated him with a violence that had blinded her to everything but what she thought of as his depravity.

  The road was wet and muddy from the storm and the Duke said as they proceeded,

  “Although it may be rather hard going, I think we should go back the way I came, which was across the fields.”

  “Of course,” Aldora agreed.

  They looked for a gap in the hedgerows where they could leave the road and a short distance later came upon a small wood where, because the trees grew right down to the roadside, there was a break in the hedges.

  Aldora turned her horse up what appeared to be a rough cart track and then, as the Duke followed her, stopped to let him go ahead.

  There was not room for them to ride abreast until they came to a clearing where it was obvious that a number of trees had been cut down.

  The wood ahead looked thick and without a track in it and the Duke paused for a few moments, wondering if it would be best to turn to the right and force their way through the trees onto what he was sure would be open fields beyond.

  He was just about to ask Aldora what she thought, when a hoarse common voice ejaculated,

  “Put your ’ands up! I’ve got you covered!”

  Both Aldora and the Duke looked in astonishment at the man who had come riding through the thick trees ahead of them.

  For a moment it seemed incredible that he actually had a pistol in his hand, which was pointing at the Duke.

  He was wearing a mask over his face and was very roughly dressed with a tattered handkerchief round his neck and a worn felt hat pulled low over his eyes.

  He was unshaven, his coat was ragged and his horse old and ungroomed, the bridle mended with pieces of string.

  “If you are holding me up for the money I have on me,” the Duke remarked calmly, “then you are unfortunate.”

  “I’ll take your money and I’ll take your ’orse!” the man stated aggressively.

  The way he spoke and the pistol he held in an unexpectedly steady hand pointing at his chest, made the Duke aware that the highwayman, if that was what he was, was definitely dangerous.

  Too late he realised that he had been very foolish in riding after Aldora without remembering that in Race Week there was always a great number of thieves, robbers, footpads and tricksters of every sort and description waiting to extort money from the race-goers.

  When he was driving, he invariably had a pistol with him in the vehicle he was travelling in, just in case he was waylaid by the type of individual who was facing him now.

  As it happened, it was such a long time since he had encountered anything so disagreeable that he had almost forgotten the necessity for such a precaution.

  Now he realised that he was in a very uncomfortable situation and, although he did not think that the man would actually kill him, he began to wonder desperately how he could prevent him from taking Caesar.

  He could imagine nothing more humiliating than being deprived like this of one of his best stallions and what was more it would be intolerable to lose a horse as fine as Caesar.

  He had a deep affection for the animal and it was unthinkable that any horse he owned should come into the possession of anybody as unpleasant as the man now threatening him.

  One look at the highwayman’s face was enough to tell the Duke that he could be cruel if it suited him and the horse he was riding had obviously been neglected if not badly treated for many years.

  “Let’s discuss this sensibly,” the Duke said in a calm voice.

  “There ain’t nothin’ to discuss, Mister,” the highwayman replied violently. “Just you gets down off your ’orse and be quick about it or you’ll find dead men don’t ride!”

  He almost snarled the last words and the Duke was aware that never in his whole life had he been in quite such a dangerous situation.

  He realised that the highwayman had his finger on the trigger and knew now with an instinct that could not be denied that he did intend to kill him.

  Then suddenly there was an explosion that seemed almost to break his eardrums.

  The highwayman made a guttural soun
d in his throat before his whole body swayed backwards and he fell from his saddle to the ground.

  He must, however, have pulled the trigger of his own pistol a split second after Aldora had shot him for as he fell there was another explosion and the Duke felt the impact as if of a red-hot bullet on the outside of his left arm.

  It did not knock him over and he sat firm in his saddle gazing at the highwayman on the ground.

  He knew that Aldora had shot the man through the heart and that he had died instantly.

  Caesar had reared up at the two explosions, but the highwayman’s horse, as if too tired or too old even to be startled, merely moved away with his nose down looking for grass in the clearing.

  As if what had happened was unreal, the Duke turned his head to look at Aldora who was a little way behind him.

  The pistol was smoking in her hand, but her eyes as she stared down at the dead highwayman were wide and frightened.

  “Is – is he – dead?” she asked and her voice trembled.

  “You saved my life,” the Duke replied, “and the quicker we get out of here the better! You must not be connected in any way with this man’s death.”

  “Y-yes – of course,” she agreed.

  She put the pistol back into the pocket of her saddle from which she had taken it.

  Then, as if she realised for the first time that he was injured, she exclaimed,

  “His bullet hit you!”

  The Duke looked down at his left arm and was aware as he did so that it was already beginning to throb unpleasantly.

  He could also feel the blood trickling down inside the sleeve of his coat.

  With admirable composure he answered,

  “The bullet will have to be extracted and if we ride from here to my yacht, which is not more than two miles away in Bosham Harbour, I have somebody aboard who can remove it.”

  “Are you sure you can ride – that far?” Aldora asked him.

  “I am all right.”

  Holding the reins in his right hand only, the Duke led the way back down the cart track.

  When they reached the road, he put Caesar into a trot, feeling that every movement shook his arm and intensified the flow of blood.

  At the same time he knew that it was imperative that they should reach his yacht as quickly as possible.

  As if Aldora was aware of what he was feeling, she kept looking at him in a worried manner all the time they were riding in the direction of the sea, but she knew that it would be a mistake to distract him.

  She was aware that if, as she suspected, the bullet was lodged in the fleshy part of the arm he would lose a great deal of blood.

  In fact, by the time they had ridden for a mile and the sea was just ahead of them, she could see that his left hand was crimson and the blood was dripping from it onto the side of his horse.

  She, however, said nothing and only as they drew near the Harbour did she allow the Duke to ride ahead of her, knowing that he would find his yacht quicker than she could.

  When she saw it, she felt that it would be impossible that such a magnificent sea-going ship could belong to anybody but the Duke.

  It certainly dwarfed all the other yachts in the Harbour and, since it was tied up against the quay, it was easy for them to approach it.

  By this time the sun had come up over the horizon and turned everything to gold, including the sea in front of them.

  As they drew their horses to a standstill beside the gangplank, which had been let down from the yacht onto the quay, Aldora dismounted saying as she did so,

  “Don’t move. I will find somebody to help you.”

  Watching the Duke’s face during the last part of their journey she was aware that he was very pale and was on the verge of collapse.

  She realised in the circumstances that it would be very difficult for him to dismount without assistance and it was impossible for her to help him and to hold both their horses at the same time.

  She was wondering whether she dared leave her own horse loose when a sailor appeared on deck and she hailed him, calling out,

  “His Grace is here and needs assistance! Fetch everybody available as quickly as you can!”

  The sailor looked at her in surprise.

  Then, obviously recognising the Duke, he hurried below and incredibly quickly three or four of the crew came hurrying down the gangplank.

  Two of them ran to the heads of the horses and the Duke, speaking for the first time, said in a weak voice,

  “Tell Hanson to put the horses in my stable and then I want him to take a message back to where I am staying.”

  “Very good, Your Grace,” the sailor replied.

  Aldora, having dismounted, came to the side of the stallion.

  “His Grace has been injured,” she said. “Help him down as carefully as you can and then take him below.”

  She spoke with an authority that made them obey her. Only as with their assistance he slipped to the ground did the Duke realise how unsteady he was and it was with a superhuman effort that he managed to walk up the gangway.

  As he moved, he saw that the Captain had arrived on the deck and was reaching out his hand to assist him.

  “I have been in the wars, Captain Barrett,” the Duke said with an effort, “which means that you will have to extract a bullet from my arm.

  “The first thing is to get you below and comfortable, Your Grace,” the Captain replied.

  As he spoke, the Duke seemed to sag forward and he quickly put his arms around him and made a gesture to another man to support him on his other side.

  By the time Aldora followed them, they had taken the Duke below and she wondered if she should assist the Captain or stay where she was.

  Because she felt it might be embarrassing to be there while they undressed him, she walked into what was obviously the Saloon and thought it was one of the most attractive she had ever seen.

  She was at first sight extremely impressed with the Duke’s yacht and thought that she might have expected that he would have a better, bigger and certainly a much more up to date one than anybody else.

  She knew quite a lot about yachts because her father had found it an escape from the endless social activities of his wife to sail away on his own to some quiet harbour where nobody could disturb him.

  Because he adored his youngest daughter he often took her with him and, looking back after he was dead, Aldora thought that the happiest times of her life had been when she was alone with her father.

  They had been able to talk endlessly on the subjects that interested them both, but nobody else in the family.

  She was admiring the pictures, which had been executed by famous marine artists, when a man wearing the uniform of a Steward came in through the door.

  “Mornin’, my Lady!” he said.

  She saw that he was a wiry-looking man getting on for middle-age with a perky manner, but a face that she felt she could trust.

  “Good morning!” Aldora replied. “How is His Grace?”

  “We’ve made him as comfortable as possible, my Lady, and the Captain’s gettin’ ready to extract the bullet.”

  Almost as if Aldora had asked the question he went on,

  “It’s only in the fleshy part of His Grace’s arm, thank God, but His Grace has already lost a lot of blood and I expect he’ll run a fever.”

  Aldora knew that this was usual and she asked,

  “I suppose you should find somebody to nurse him.”

  As the man looked at her, she thought that there was a twinkle in his eyes, before he replied,

  “I be thinkin’, your Ladyship, that you might be willin’ to do that!”

  It had never crossed Aldora’s mind for a moment that she would be expected to do such a thing and she had been supposing that as soon as the Duke was comfortable she should return home.

  Then she recognised that she could hardly leave him if she was needed and what was more it would be the greatest mistake for anybody locally to know what had occur
red.

  They could all too easily connect the Duke’s wound with the dead highwayman.

  Although it was very unlikely that he would have to face a trial, there would undoubtedly be an enquiry, which would result in a great deal of speculation.

  What is more, explanations might have to be made as to why he had ridden away alone from where he was staying in the middle of the night.

  If there were even a suspicion that he was, in fact, with a young woman, the inferences would be all too obvious.

  Quickly, without even considering it further, she responded,

  “Of course I will help you nurse him, but I think it would be best if the Captain put to sea.”

  The Steward grinned.

  “That’s what His Grace said before I comes up to find you, my Lady. He said no one’s to know he’s aboard and Hanson, that’s His Grace’s groom, is to ride back to Berkhampton House and say that His Grace has had a slight accident, but’ll return in a day or two, as soon as he’s feelin’ better.”

  Aldora could only admire the Duke for taking such a quick grasp of the unusual circumstances in which they found themselves, while he was obviously suffering considerably from his wound.

  She debated as to whether she should send a message to her mother and then decided that it would be a mistake until she had talked it over with the Duke.

  As she was thinking, the Steward said,

  “Me name’s Hobson, my Lady, and I’ve been with His Grace for over ten years. I looks after him whenever he’s ill, which’s not often, but, when a man has a fever and needs a soothin’ hand, a woman’s better at that than a man.”

  “I will certainly do my best,” Aldora answered.

  Then she added,

  “Before we put to sea will you ask somebody to bring on board the bundle that is attached to my saddle and also everything they find in the pockets?”

  “Of course, my Lady!”

  Hobson hurried away and Aldora thought that, whether it was his own idea or on the Duke’s instructions, they had made certain that she would not run off on her own as she had intended when she left home.

  ‘It is my fault that the Duke has been wounded,’ she told herself, ‘and I must therefore do my best to make him well again.’