Alone In Paris

by Barbara Cartland

  He merely held her close against him, knowing that she had decided the question that had confronted him for the last two hours.

  He loved her and he could not, whatever the consequences, leave her alone and unprotected.

  “You are safe, my darling,” he said gently. “No one shall insult you like that again.”

  He felt a little of her tension leave her, but she was still trembling as she raised her face to his.

  By the soft light that stood beside his bed, she looked so lovely that for a moment he could only gaze at her, before very gently his lips found hers.

  He kissed her and, as he did so, he realised that she was no longer trembling, but quivering once again with the ecstasy that he had evoked in her before.

  His mouth held her captive until he felt as if they were both floating above the world in an enchantment that he had never known before.

  When he raised his head, he looked down at her again and said, his voice unsteady,

  “I love you, my precious one, and I intend to look after you, and you will never be afraid again.”

  There was an expression of radiance on her face before she said, a little hesitatingly,

  “I don’t – understand – you said that it was – impossible for me to be – with you.”

  “I am asking you to marry me,” the Duke said very quietly. “And nothing in the world is more important than that you should be my wife.”

  Una gave a little cry of sheer happiness.

  Then he was kissing her again, kissing her wildly, fiercely and passionately until the softness of her lips responded to his and he knew that she loved him as overwhelmingly as he loved her.

  Only when she could speak in breathless, disjointed little words did Una say,

  “I love – you! I love you – and I never thought – I would be able to – tell you so.”

  “I love you!” the Duke said. “And I have every intention of telling you so a million times for the rest of our lives.”

  “Is it – true? Can you – really – love me – ?”

  “I have never known love until this moment,” the Duke said. “Now I have found it, as I have found you, and I know it is irresistible.”

  Una drew a deep breath and then she said hesitatingly,

  “Perhaps it is – wrong for you to love me – wrong for you – I mean.”

  The Duke did not speak and she went on,

  “You should marry somebody – grand – especially as you are to be a – Viceroy.”

  “I am not going to be a Viceroy,” the Duke replied. “I am going to marry you and we are going to be so happy together that nothing else in the world is of any consequence.”

  He felt Una stiffen.

  “Are you – telling me,” she asked, “that because you marry me – you will not be able to be – Viceroy?”

  The fear was back in her voice and, because the Duke did not wish her to be alarmed, he said quickly,

  “I have no wish to be a Viceroy. I want to lead an ordinary quiet life and I want no other position except that of being your husband.”

  Una looked up at his face and then she put both her hands on his chest to push him a little way from her.

  “It is – not right,” she said. “I know it is not right for you. You are so – clever – so brilliant – and I was thinking tonight when I went to bed, how much you will be able to – help the Irish.”

  “Forget the Irish!” the Duke exclaimed. “They are of no importance. It is you who matters and I love you. It will take a very long time, my precious, to tell you how much.”

  He would have kissed her again, but her hands still held him away from her.

  “No,” she said. “No! I cannot – allow you to do – this. I love you – too much.”

  She made an unexpected movement and freed herself from the Duke’s arms, to move away from him and sit down on the side of the big bed.

  The Duke made no effort to prevent her from leaving him. He only watched her with a tender expression in his eyes that no one had ever seen before.

  He knew that in the whole of his life he had never known another woman who had put his interests in front of her own.

  He knew too that there was not one woman of his acquaintance who would not be wildly ambitious not only to be the Duchess of Wolstanton but also the Vicereine of Ireland.

  As Una sat there thinking, she had no idea what a beautiful picture she made.

  In her plain white nightgown she was silhouetted against the crimson silk curtains that draped the Duke’s bed and that had been chosen by his grandfather when he decorated the house.

  There was the huge Coat-of-Arms of the Wolstanton family embroidered in brilliant colours on the bed-back and the Duke thought that she looked like some nymph who had stepped out of a Fairytale and was too ethereal to be human.

  “I – have to – think,” she said, almost as if she spoke to herself.

  “That is where you are mistaken,” the Duke replied.

  “Let your husband, as I intend to be, do all the thinking from now on. All you have to do, my beautiful one, is to love me.”

  He moved slowly towards her and then, as she turned her little worried face up to his, he said,

  “You have been through enough for today. Go to sleep and tomorrow I will solve all our problems quite simply, because we will be married and you will be my wife.”

  She shook her head and he said with a smile on his lips,

  “I shall make my wife obey me.”

  As he spoke, he put out his arms and lifted her up from the bed to hold her tightly against him.

  “I am – trying to think what is – right for you,” Una murmured.

  He held her closer still and answered,

  “It is right for you to kiss me.”

  She was about to speak, but he closed her lips with his.

  Then, as he knew that she was as thrilled as he was, it was difficult to think of anything but each other.

  Only when they had once again left the world behind and felt a rapture that was beyond thought did the Duke come back to earth and say,

  “My darling, you must go to sleep. I will take you back to your room.”

  As if she only now remembered the reason why she had run to him, he felt a little shiver go through her and he said quickly,

  “There will be no one there to frighten you and we will leave the doors open so that I can hear if you call.”

  He smiled so that there was no rebuke in his words as he said,

  “You should have remembered to lock your door.”

  “I – never thought of it,” Una said simply. “We were not allowed to lock our doors at the Convent.”

  As she spoke, the Duke wondered how he could ever have doubted her innocence and purity.

  It had never even struck her, he knew, that she should be self-conscious and shy because she had run to him just as she was in her nightgown.

  He thought, as he touched her hair with his lips, that he was the most fortunate man in the world, because he had found what all men seek in a woman, but so few find.

  “I will take you back,” he said quietly.

  He bent down and picked Una up in his arms.

  “You have enough to worry about for tonight,” he said. “I am going to carry you to bed, my precious, and I want you to go to sleep thinking only of me.”

  “It would be – impossible to do – anything else,” she answered.

  “Tomorrow night we will be together,” he said softly, “and I will tell you of my love and you shall tell me of yours.”

  As he spoke, he carried her through the powder closet and into her own bedroom.

  He felt the softness of her body and the fragrance of her hair gave him sensations that he had never known.

  In the light still burning by the bed Una could see that the room was empty and the door into the passage was closed.

  The Duke laid her down against the pillows and pulled the bedclothes over her.

  Then
he sat down facing her to say,

  “I love you! And I want you to know, my lovely darling, that, although we cannot go to Ireland, I am happy to live with you in England, France or anywhere else in the world you choose.”

  Una reached up her arms and put them round his neck.

  “You are – so wonderful – so clever,” she said. “It is really a – waste of you for me to have – you all to myself. But – please promise me – one thing.”

  “What is that?” the Duke asked.

  “That you will let me try to – help you just a – little in everything you do. I will not be a nuisance – I will not impose myself on you – but I do want to be a part – a real part of your life.”

  The Duke held her very close.

  “You will always be that,” he said, “the part of my life that really matters, the part which is also a part of me, because, my precious little love, we will not be two people but one.”

  His lips found hers as he spoke and, because he had been deeply moved by what she had said, Una knew that his kiss was somehow sacred.

  The Duke swept her away into the light that seemed to envelop them both with a glory that was almost blinding.

  This was love, a love that pulsated through her body and her mind. A love she had believed that she must lose.

  Her arms pulled him a little closer and she knew, as their kiss joined them in an ecstasy that came from God, that never again would she be frightened, lonely or anywhere else.

  *

  The Duke awoke and was aware that he was happier than he ever remembered being in his life before.

  He knew that everything had changed simply because Una had come into his life.

  She was what he had always imagined was unattainable and yet had remained an ideal that was too perfect to be translated into ordinary living.

  All the women he had known and with whom he had spent so much of his time seemed, in retrospect, a waste of himself and his brains. But he knew that it was more than that.

  It had been a betrayal of his own standards and of his own needs.

  Una fulfilled in him something that was so intrinsically a part of himself that he wondered now how he could have existed without her.

  He rose from his bed and walked across the room to stand at the open door that communicated with her bedroom.

  He resisted an impulse to go to her and kiss her awake.

  He told himself that she needed sleep after all the traumatic experiences of yesterday and he must think of her rather than himself.

  He closed the door very quietly and then rang for his valet.

  The sunshine was glinting on the trees in the garden and he thought, as he looked from the window, that it was just the sort of Wedding day he would wish to have and one that would envelop Una with a golden haze.

  He was nearly dressed when there was a knock on the door and, when his valet opened it, Mr. Beaumont came into the room.

  The Duke, who was brushing his hair with two ivory-backed brushes, turned to look at him in surprise.

  “You are early, Beaumont!” he remarked. “But actually I was just going to send for you.”

  “Dubucheron is here,” Mr. Beaumont replied. “And he brought you this.”

  He walked across the room as he spoke and held out a copy of Le Jour.

  A paragraph low down on the page had been heavily underlined.

  The Duke took it and said,

  “I suppose Dubucheron is looking for money. Give him a thousand pounds. He has earned it!”

  “A thousand pounds?” Mr. Beaumont exclaimed. “Surely that is too much!”

  The Duke did not reply and his Comptroller realised that he did not intend to have an argument on the matter.

  He was reading the marked newspaper.

  The item was headed,

  “A LOST HEIR

  Mr. Caulder and Mr. Stephens, Senior Partners of the well-known London firm of Solicitors, Messrs. Caulder, Stephens and Culthorpe, arrived in Paris yesterday to visit Montmartre. They are not, however, interested in seeing the pictures of our younger artists, which have attracted the attention of the artistic world.

  Instead they are looking for one artist in particular, who, they think, may have a studio in Montmartre.

  It was announced last month that Lord Dorset had died unexpectedly at the age of fifty-three. He was unmarried and the Solicitors to the estate are now searching for his younger brother, Mr. Julius Thornton, who will inherit not only the title but also a large estate.

  Lord Dorset’s brother left England nineteen years ago when he resigned from his Regiment, the Grenadier Guards, and at the same time eloped with the daughter of Sir Robert Marlow. This caused a great deal of excitement at the time and his father, the previous Lord Dorset, cut off all communication with his son, as did Sir Robert Marlow with his daughter.

  It is believed, however, that Mr. Julius Thornton took up painting, for which he had already shown a considerable talent, and settled in France.

  He may have changed his name, but the Solicitors are confident that if, as is considered a possibility, he is still living in France, he will undoubtedly be known amongst his contemporaries in Montmartre.”

  The Duke read the paragraph to the end and then, handing the newspaper back to Mr. Beaumont, he said,

  “Tell Dubucheron to bring the gentlemen concerned to see me tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow?” Mr. Beaumont questioned.

  “I shall be too busy to see them today,” the Duke said, “and so will you.”

  His Comptroller waited, a slightly puzzled expression in his eyes.

  “First,” the Duke said, picking up his hairbrushes, “I want you to go to the Rue de la Paix and tell two or more of the best couturiers to bring here immediately the prettiest very small-sized gowns they have ready, together with hats to match.”

  Mr. Beaumont’s eyes widened but he did not speak and the Duke continued,

  “Having done that, will you go to La Mairie and arrange for my marriage to take place at twelve noon?”

  “Your marriage?” Mr. Beaumont ejaculated.

  Now the expression of astonishment on his face was almost ludicrous.

  “I understand a Civil Marriage is compulsory in France,” the Duke said, “but we will follow it with a short Service at the British Embassy Church.”

  With difficulty Mr. Beaumont found his voice.

  “I must congratulate Your Grace,” he said. “This is certainly a surprise!”

  The Duke smiled at him mischievously.

  It always pleased him to surprise his Comptroller and this time he had certainly succeeded.

  He put down his hairbrushes and turned round.

  “Hurry, Beaumont.”

  “I shall need to do that,” his Comptroller said, “and, having reached the crossroads, you have certainly made a decision.”

  “Have you decided whether it is right or left?” the Duke asked.

  “I may be wrong,” Mr. Beaumont replied with a smile, “but I think you have followed the dictates of your heart and that could not be anything but right.”

  The Duke laughed and it was a sound of almost boyish exuberance.

  “That is exactly what I have done!”

  Mr. Beaumont walked towards the door.

  “I will give your message to Dubucheron, Your Grace, and then leave immediately for the Rue de la Paix.”

  “I shall need you as a witness at my Wedding,” the Duke said, “and no one else.”

  “I am honoured,” Mr. Beaumont murmured.

  He had the door open when the Duke stopped him.

  “Beaumont.”

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  The Duke picked up a letter that was lying on top of the dressing table.

  “If you have any time left today,” he said, “you can draft out an answer to the Prime Minister.”

  He threw the letter and it spun in the air to fall at Mr. Beaumont’s feet and, as he bent to pick it up, the Duke said,


  “Tell him I will be very honoured for him to put forward my name to Her Majesty for the appointment of Viceroy of Ireland and that I and my wife will do our best for that long-suffering country.”

  There was a smile of gratification on Mr. Beaumont’s face as he went from the room, carrying the Prime Minister’s letter in his hand, but the Duke did not see it.

  He had walked to the window to look out once again at the sunlit garden.

  He knew that what he had read in Le Jour would make everything much simpler and much easier in the future, not so much for him as for Una.

  It was her happiness he was thinking about and he knew that her Dorset relations would be only too glad to welcome her as the Duchess of Wolstanton, as would her mother’s family.

  It was an incredible piece of good luck that this should have happened at this particular moment.

  But, as far as the Duke was concerned, he could think of only one thing and that was Una.

  He loved her and he was relieved at what he had learnt of her family not from his own point of view but from hers.

  He would have been quite happy, in fact very happy, to spend his life quite quietly, just looking after her, protecting her and preventing her from feeling lonely.

  But he knew that they both had the intelligent capacity to ask for more in their lives than just themselves.

  The challenge that awaited them in Ireland was something that they could face together and it would fulfil and develop them both.

  He remembered how last night she had asked him to promise that he would let her help him a little in everything he did.

  He knew now that it would not be a little he would ask of her, but a lot. For he was aware that, young though she was, she had a depth of character that was unusual and would not only help him but guide and inspire him for the rest of their life together.

  As he looked out into the garden, the sun seemed almost dazzling in its brilliance and the Duke hoped that that was how their life would be, brilliant not only for themselves but for the people they could help.

  It was Una who had effected, already, a change and a difference in his life, giving it a sense of purpose and a potential that had not been there before.

  He felt himself longing for her with an intensity that made him feel that he was calling her name aloud.

  “I love you! God, how much I love you, my precious!” he said, as if she was standing beside him.