160 Love Finds the Duke at Last

by Barbara Cartland

“How are they to know?” he asked. “Penelope may be suspicious but if she says so, it will only make people either laugh or be sorry for her because she has been badly treated. It is much more likely that she will merely toss her head in the air and profess that I proposed to her, but she refused me.”

  “Everyone who knows her will know that is a lie,” the girl replied.

  “What they say or do not say will not affect us,” the Duke said. “We will go to the country and after the first announcement say that we have to wait for the Wedding because we are still in mourning for one of our relations.”

  He paused before he added,

  “That actually is the truth, because I heard only last week that a relation of my father’s, who I have not seen for two or three years, has just died in Ireland.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Then the girl said,

  “You are so kind and so understanding and I am ashamed of myself for being what my Mama would have called ‘unrestrained.’ But I loved Jo-Jo so much and he loved me. No one else loves me and no one wants me.”

  The way she spoke was so pitiful that without even thinking the Duke put his arm round her and drew her close to him.

  “Now you have to be very brave,” he said. “One good thing is that Jo-Jo did not suffer. He would have died not only from the gunshot but from being thrown into the water.”

  He coughed before he went on,

  “Try not to think about it and I want you to meet my dogs and I feel sure you will find that one of them will give you some pleasure, even though I know that in your heart you will never forget Jo-Jo.”

  “Oh, you understand, you really understand!” the girl cried. “And because you have been so kind to me – I want to help you if it is at all possible.”

  “It is possible,” the Duke replied. “We are going to drive back to London now and stop at where I know the newspapers are printed and, then when Penelope wakes up tomorrow morning she will have a shock.”

  The girl did not miss the note of satisfaction in his voice.

  Then, as if he did not wish to linger talking about Penelope, he suggested,

  “Now I want you to tell me about yourself. But, as time is getting on, I suggest we go back into the carriage and hurry to London.”

  The girl wiped her eyes once again and murmured,

  “I will do anything you want. But you do realise that I have come away without a thing to wear and without a penny piece.”

  “Those are unimportant things,” the Duke replied. “One step at a time and now we are going to London just as quickly as my horses can carry us there.”

  He rose from the seat as he spoke and, taking the girl’s hand, he pulled her up beside him.

  “You have to be brave,” he told her again, “very brave and the first thing you have to do is to smile at any of the servants who see us and make them believe that we have enjoyed our visit to Hampton Court Palace.”

  The way he spoke made the girl laugh.

  Although it was little more than a smile, it seemed almost to transform her from someone very miserable into someone young and he had to admit, very attractive as well as very beautiful.

  As they got into the carriage having told the guide, who had shown them into the garden, that they were very impressed with it, the Duke took a piece of paper from his pocket and a pencil.

  “Now,” he began, “you have to answer, as if you were at school, questions that it is necessary for me to have the answers for.”

  The girl gave a little chuckle and said,

  “I hope they will not be too difficult for me to give you the – proper answer.”

  “They are quite simple I can assure you. First of all, what is your name?”

  The girl smiled.

  “It does seem strange when you have been so kind to me and we have been so close that you really have no idea – who I am.”

  “I agree with you,” he answered her. “At the same time it is essential that I should get it right.”

  He hesitated before he went on,

  “We were not introduced in the formal fashion, as we should have been, but I can hardly become engaged to someone without a name!”

  “Of course not!” she laughed. “My name is Devinia and my other name is Mountford. My mother was a cousin of Penelope’s mother.”

  “And so that is why you went there when you had nowhere else to go,” the Duke declared.

  “Yes, that was why I went to the cousin my mother had often told me was a very sweet and loving person,” Devinia said. “But she could not control Penelope who did exactly what she liked. She was often, I thought, rude to her mother while she was obedient and respectful to her father.”

  The Duke thought to himself that they all seemed rather unpleasant.

  Having written down Devinia’s name, he asked,

  “Now you must tell me about your father.”

  “My father was a soldier,” Devinia began, “and he was killed nearly six years ago when he was fighting with his Regiment abroad.”

  She stopped for a moment before she added,

  “That is why Mama and I had very little money and lived quietly in the country.”

  She gave a deep sigh before she went on,

  “We were very very happy and I had Jo-Jo to talk to when Mama was busy or visiting friends, who all loved her as I did.”

  “I can understand that,” the Duke said. “So your father was a soldier and what was his Regiment?”

  “He was in the Coldstream Guards,” she told him. “He was just going to be made a General when he was so sadly killed.”

  “So you are the daughter of, shall we say, General and Mrs. Mountford and that is how it will appear when our engagement is announced.”

  Devinia pondered for a moment and then she said,

  “I forgot to tell you that Mama had a title of her own, as her father was in the House of Lords. However, he died before I was born and Mama often told me that as he was so clever she wished that I could have met him.”

  The Duke was thinking that this was even better that he had expected.

  He felt that, at least, his engagement would sound very respectable.

  None of his family, at any rate, would be critical or think that he was intending to marry someone who was not accepted socially.

  It took some time to reach London as the traffic seemed rather heavier than usual.

  But eventually the carriage drew up outside a large ugly building where the Duke knew that The Morning Post was printed.

  Leaving Devinia in the carriage he walked in by the front entrance.

  On informing the man at the door who he was, he was led directly to the Editor’s office on the first floor.

  “This is a great surprise, Your Grace,” he said when the Duke was announced. “I never expected you to pay us a visit even though, as you well know, we have written a great deal about you one way and another.”

  “I have something more important than usual which I want you to print tomorrow morning,” the Duke told him. “It is my engagement.”

  The Editor threw up his hands.

  “You are engaged!” he exclaimed. “So those who have been betting, and there are quite a number of them, that you will remain as you always have been, a devout bachelor, will lose their money. Now tell me, Your Grace, who is the fortunate woman to capture your heart and I will be surprised if I don’t guess who it is?”

  “I shall be extremely surprised if you do guess the lady’s name,” the Duke replied with a smile. “Therefore I will not embarrass you, but I have written down exactly how I want the announcement to be made and I would be exceedingly grateful if you could put it in every edition of your newspaper tomorrow.”

  “Your Grace, it will be our top news as the betting against you getting married has been increasing, Season by Season and those who are certain that they would select the winner sooner or later have always gone away with their tail between their legs.”

  The Duke la
ughed.

  “Well, this time they will win their bets, although I will be surprised if they guess correctly.”

  He put the piece of paper which he had torn from his notebook on which he had written very clearly in his neat handwriting,

  “The engagement is announced today between His Grace the Duke of Lavenham and Miss Devinia Mountford.

  The bride is the daughter of the General Archibald Mountford, who was killed in action in India six years ago, and Lady Irene, who was the daughter of the sixth Earl of Tiverton.”

  The Editor read it through slowly.

  Then he turned to the Duke and remarked,

  “This will most certainly surprise a great number of people. I have not heard of the lady who has won your heart and, although I do remember the death of the General six years ago, I am sure that I am right in thinking that the Marquis of Tiverton died earlier without leaving an heir.”

  “I expect you are right,” the Duke said. “I never worry myself about those sort of things, but leave people to read about them in Debrett’s Peerage.”

  The Editor laughed.

  “You would most be surprised at how many copies are under the pillows of debutantes as soon as they leave school. They all want titles and who could want more than to be a Duchess.”

  The Duke put on a lofty air as though he was not interested in what the Editor was saying. Even though he knew that it was surely the truth.

  “I will be extremely grateful to you,” he replied, “if you can print this to appear first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Of course, it will be on the front page,” the Editor assured him. “But I have to say that what we would really like is a photograph of Your Grace and, of course, your fiancée.”

  The Duke spread out his hands.

  “There, unfortunately, I cannot help you,” he said. “My fiancée has been in deep mourning for her mother and has only recently come up from the country.”

  “Then I would hope that you will allow us to take a photograph of you both as soon as possible,” he proposed.

  “You must make contact with my secretary to make the arrangements,” the Duke said in a lofty tone, “for the simple reason that we are leaving for the country almost immediately and it would be therefore impossible for you to photograph us before we leave.”

  “We will surely try, Your Grace,” the Editor said, “and thank you sincerely for giving us the opportunity of beating our opponents at what will tomorrow be the most sensational news for the ambitious Mamas who put a Duke at the very top of the list of eligible bachelors and this will certainly leave a gap!”

  The Duke laughed heartily as he was meant to do and walked towards the door.

  The Editor hastened to follow him to escort him to the carriage where Devinia was waiting.

  He stared at her with the greatest interest and the Duke realised that he was really wondering if he had seen her before.

  How was it possible that the Duke was marrying someone who had, as far as he could recall, not appeared in any of the social lists of debutantes?

  The Duke shook him by the hand and climbed into the carriage.

  He was aware as he drove off, that after peering in as hard as he could at Devinia, he was scratching his head as he found it impossible to remember if he had ever heard of her let alone seen her before.

  The carriage carried Devinia and the Duke back to his house in Berkeley Square.

  It was a very fine mansion which had been in the hands of the Dukes of Lavenham for over two centuries and the Duke was very proud of it.

  At the same time he cared more for his ancestral home in the country which again had been handed down century after century.

  Every reigning Duke had contributed something to Laven Castle itself.

  Few people, however, had the privilege of enjoying the fine collection of pictures and furniture that had come from France and other countries in Europe.

  “I have no wish to have strangers clumping about on my valuable carpets,” the Duke’s father had said, “and prying into places where they are not wanted.”

  So he had refused to allow visitor unless they were close friends to come to Laven Castle.

  The Duke, when he inherited, had been amused at the curiosity that his contemporaries in the Social world gave his home.

  He was allowed, as he grew older, to have a few friends to stay with him at The Castle for the Hunt Ball and for the shoots which took place in the autumn.

  Otherwise the Duke’s family had very much kept themselves to themselves and the public, however curious they might be, remained outside.

  He was sure now that if he took Devinia to the country tomorrow as soon as the announcement of their engagement hit the Social world, there would be only a few friends who would be brave enough to follow them to the country.

  It would be easy to refuse to open the door to the more curious of the Press.

  What the Duke was thinking about as they drove towards Berkeley Square, was that he had taken revenge against Penelope’s cruelty.

  To make her happy again he must provide Devinia with another dog which she could love as she had loved Jo-Jo.

  Just before they reached Berkeley Square, Devinia said again to the Duke,

  “I suppose you must realise that I have come away without any clothes and I only have what I stand up in.”

  The Duke laughed.

  “We have not thought of that,” he said, “but it need not worry us, I will tell you why. My housekeeper, who has been with me for a number of years has, I know, a collection of dresses that go back down the centuries and she will, I am quite certain, find you something which may be a little old-fashioned, but will surely be very becoming.”

  He thought he heard a sigh of relief from Devinia and went on,

  “In the country my housekeeper there has an attic full of past relics including delightful dresses worn by my mother and my grandmother that I have always been told are just so beautifully made that the wearer does not feel embarrassed as they have not come from Bond Street.”

  He chuckled as he added,

  “It makes them appear as enchanting and as elegant as if they had just stepped down from one of the pictures.”

  “That is very reassuring,” Devinia said, “because I am feeling equally embarrassed at having to tell you that I have no money with me and, I am afraid very very little in the Bank.”

  She paused before she went on,

  “Mama was ill for a long time before she died and I had to pay doctors and nurses and, of course, the servants, which left me with practically nothing when I went to my cousin for help.”

  “Don’t worry about any of those things,” the Duke said airily. “I promise you the housekeepers will delight in finding someone who needs their attention and if you look as I said as if you had just stepped out of a picture, who could expect anything else in a house in London which is very old and much older when you reach the country.”

  “Are we going there?” Devinia asked eagerly. “I do love the country and, of course, I need not tell you that I love riding.”

  “There are stables filled with so many horses which are extremely annoyed that I have not been exercising them as I ought to do,” the Duke replied.

  Devinia laughed.

  “You make it a joke, Your Grace, but to me it is like stepping into a Fairy story. I feel that at any moment I will wake up and find that it is all a dream.”

  “That is what it is,” the Duke said. “A dream and you just have to forget what has happened recently and tell yourself that you are stepping back in the past and the past for you was very happy and full of interest.”

  “You are so kind,” Devinia said, “and it is difficult for me to say how grateful I am. At the same time you do realise that Penelope will be very angry and I am sure in some way she will try to avenge herself on you and me.”

  The Duke laughed.

  “Let her try!” he exclaimed. “Most women are so ineffective that they could no
t even begin a battle against an enemy. Even if we are in this, as far as Penelope is concerned, we have a considerable fortress both here and in the country to protect us and what is more important the goodwill of those who are genuinely fond of us.”

  He felt that he was really thinking about himself as Devinia had made it perfectly clear that she had very few relations and practically no friends except the dog which she had really loved.

  ‘I must make it up to her in some way,’ the Duke thought. ‘I am sure that there will be a puppy of some sort waiting for us in the country and it is essential we should go there as soon as possible.’

  He was not so stupid as to not appreciate that his engagement would astound those who had heard him say so often that he had no wish to marry.

  But it would utterly and completely confound those who had been sure, if he did choose a wife, it would be Penelope because she was so beautiful and becoming so successful in the Social world.

  In fact no one would have been the least surprised if after all she had captured the elusive Duke.

  ‘A bachelor is what I have been and that is what I mean to remain,’ the Duke told himself firmly.

  He knew that he had made it very clear to Penelope and her father that he could not be forced into marriage, which he was quite certain that they intended to do.

  It was an old story and a great number of men had been forced to put the ring on a woman’s finger because they had, to most intents and purposes, ruined her social reputation and he must therefore pay the price by making her his wife.

  There was a story whispered around London that an ambitious mother had even gone so far as to ask the Prince of Wales to make it clear to one of his friends that he had to marry the girl who he had, at a dance, spent a long time with in the garden instead of being seen on the dance floor.

  And the young Marquis of Worcester had to marry a girl after he had been seen talking to her for nearly two hours in a Conservatory.

  As Devinia was taken upstairs to her bedroom by a servant, the Duke went into a sitting room.

  He thought that he had been cleverer than many of his friends and associates had been in the past.

  ‘I will never marry,’ he told himself, ‘until I fall in love and marry someone who loves me as a man and not because I am a Duke.’