The Ruthless Rake

by Barbara Cartland

  “Your Royal Highness is well aware that England is receiving from India an ever-growing stream of spices, indigo, sugar, ivory, ebony, tea, sandalwood, saltpetre and silks. It is this trade and the ships that carry it in which I managed to obtain a share, which has enabled me not only to reinstate myself but to retrieve my father’s reputation.”

  “Mrs. Fitzherbert tells me that you have paid back all his debts,” the Prince said.

  “Every farthing,” the Earl answered, “and with interest! If I may say so, the slate is clear.”

  “And your estates?”

  “Those too I have recovered, but only in the past few weeks,” the Earl sighed. “Twenty-three years ago when my father began to lose his possessions one by one in reckless gaming, a cousin, Colonel Fitzroy Roth, came forward and took over the family house and the great acreage surrounding it. He assumed all liability for our tenants and pensioners, the herd of cattle and other commitments on condition that it remained his for his lifetime.”

  “You mean he has now died?” the Prince asked.

  “A few weeks ago,” the Earl replied, “and so I have now come into my own.”

  There was a faint note of elation in his voice.

  “I am glad for your sake, Rothingham, but all the more you will now need a wife to grace the head of your table.”

  “There are, I assure you, Sire, many applicants for the position.”

  “That I can quite believe!” the Prince ejaculated. “But you are still determined not to marry?”

  “I intend to enjoy myself for many years to come,” the Earl declared. “Perhaps when I am in my dotage I may find some conformable creature to toady to my idiosyncrasies and cosset my failing health. Until then – ”

  The Earl paused.

  “Until then, you will play the field?” the Prince suggested.

  “Exactly! Your Royal Highness could not have expressed it better.”

  “Well, Lady Elaine will have a long wait,” the Prince said rising to his feet.

  “She will indeed, Sire, but doubtless she will speedily find an alternative attraction to console herself with.”

  “You underestimate the fidelity of a woman’s heart,” the Prince said, “or the damage you may inflict on it.”

  “I have always found,” the Earl responded, “that diamonds have an exceptionally restorative quality. I have never yet met a woman who could refuse such medicine!”

  The Prince laughed and enquired,

  “Will you come with me to Newmarket tomorrow?”

  “I regret, Sire, I must decline such a delightful invitation, but I have already arranged to visit my estate. It is almost a lifetime since I saw King’s Keep and I am sure that there are many alterations and improvements to be put in hand. But I shall not be away for more than two or three days.”

  “Then I shall eagerly await your return,” the Prince said. “I find, Rothingham, the dullest party is amusing when you are present.”

  “I thank you, Sire, but let’s avoid dull parties at all cost. There is at the end of the week to be a very amusing evening with the Corps de Ballet from the opera. It would be deeply appreciated if you could find your way to be present.”

  “The Corps de Ballet, eh?” the Prince asked. “I don’t mind telling you, Rothingham, I find some of them extremely good-looking.”

  “They are indeed an enchanting collection,” the Earl said. “May I therefore count on your presence next Thursday at eleven o’clock?”

  “You may indeed,” the Prince replied. “Are you giving the party?”

  “I imagine that I will be presented with the bill,” the Earl replied.

  “And who could better afford it?” the Prince exclaimed. “And that reminds me, Rothingham, I hear you paid two thousand guineas for those greys you were driving yesterday. Finest pair of horseflesh I have seen for some time! I wanted them myself when they came up at Tattersalls, but they were beyond my touch.”

  “You saw them?” the Earl asked.

  “I saw them and admired them,” the Prince replied, “and Mrs. Fitzherbert agreed with me that they were the most exceptional animals we had either of us set eyes on for a long time.”

  “Well, if Mrs. Fitzherbert liked them,” the Earl said slowly, “allow me, Sire, to make her a present of them. I would not wish her to be disappointed.”

  The Prince’s face lit up.

  “Do you mean that, Rothingham? By Jove, you are a generous chap! But I ought not to accept such a gift, as you well know.”

  “If we either of us did only the things we should do, Your Royal Highness, the world would be a very dreary place.”

  The Prince laughed and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Then if you mean what you say, I accept with thanks. It is generous of you, damned generous, and I shall not forget it.”

  “They shall be delivered to your stable tomorrow,” the Earl said, “and I will rely on you, Sire, to see that they make my peace with Mrs. Fitzherbert. Perhaps she would be gracious enough to soothe the injured feelings of Lady Elaine.”

  The Prince laughed.

  “I might have known that there was some condition attached to such generosity!”

  “You cannot expect me to forget so quickly the trader’s instinct,” the Earl retorted.

  The Prince was laughing as they walked from the salon into the broad corridor that led towards the stairs.

  But the Earl’s lazy blue eyes showed cynical amusement.

  On leaving Carlton House the Earl found waiting for him his yellow and black high-perched phaeton in which he drove to a house in Curzon Street.

  *

  The door was opened by a manservant whom his Lordship greeted familiarly.

  “Good afternoon, John. Is her Ladyship in?”

  “Yes, my Lord. Her Ladyship is upstairs trying on gowns with Madame Bertin.”

  ”It sounds expensive,” the Earl remarked. “I will find my own way up.”

  He walked quickly up the staircase and crossing the landing knocked perfunctorily on a door and entered before there could be an answer.

  In the centre of a bedroom that was decorated in rose-pink silk, Lady Elaine Wilmot, wearing a diaphanous negligée of lime-coloured gauze, was inspecting a gown held out to her by Madame Bertin, the most exclusive dressmaker in Bond Street.

  Madame Bertin had been lady’s maid to Marie Antoinette.

  But when the first rumblings of revolution had started in France, she had quickly crossed the Channel and established herself as an arbiter of fashion to the Beau Monde.

  The gown Lady Elaine was inspecting was full-skirted, her tightly laced waist was encircled by a sash and the low décolletage was veiled by a fine muslin fichu in the fashion set by the Queen of France and which had been adopted by most English Ladies of Quality.

  As the door opened, Lady Elaine turned her head indifferently as if she expected the entrance of a servant.

  When she saw the Earl, she gave a cry of delight.

  “Ancelin, I was not expecting you!”

  She ran towards him, oblivious of the fact that silhouetted against the light from the window her transparent negligée revealed the exquisite perfection of her naked body.

  The Earl took the two hands she held out to him and raised them to his lips.

  “Can it be possible that you are in need of more fripperies?” he demanded.

  Lady Elaine pouted at him prettily, but her eyes pleaded as she said,

  “I have nothing to wear and you did say – ”

  “Yes, I did say,” the Earl replied good-humouredly.

  Lady Elaine gave a quick sigh of relief and turned to Madame Bertin.

  “Let me have the four gowns we have chosen as quickly as possible,” she asked.

  “Certainement, my Lady. Et le compte to his Lordship as usual?”

  “As usual,” the Earl agreed before Lady Elaine could speak.

  Madame Bertin and an assistant who had remained discreetly in the corner of the r
oom collected their boxes, their gowns, several rolls of silk and curtseyed themselves out of the bedroom.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Lady Elaine moved nearer to the Earl and put her arms round his neck.

  “You are so kind to me,” she sighed. “I was half afraid that you would think me extravagant in buying new gowns when you have only recently paid the old harridan’s exorbitant bill.”

  “Think you extravagant?” the Earl asked mockingly. “What could have put such an idea into your pretty little head?”

  He looked down at her as he spoke, seeing the slanting dark fringed eyes, the winged eyebrows that matched the raven curls elegantly arranged to frame the oval perfection of her face.

  There was no doubt that Lady Elaine was a great beauty.

  The whiteness of her skin, the seductiveness of her large eyes and her full sensuous mouth had been acclaimed by almost every buck in London.

  The daughter of a Duke, she had, however, made a disastrous marriage almost before she had left the schoolroom. It was fortunately of short duration.

  Her husband, wild, improvident and a heavy drinker, had been killed in a crazy midnight cross country steeplechase when most of the riders were too foxed to know where they were going or to keep astride their horses.

  It was therefore as a dazzling, beautiful and extremely ambitious widow that Lady Elaine had startled the Beau Monde.

  There were many people who disapproved of her.

  The older most staid hostesses, who clustered around the Court at Buckingham House and were scandalised by the impropriety of the Prince of Wales, did their best to cold-shoulder Lady Elaine but without avail.

  It was obvious that she would become an intimate of the Carlton House Set and also with such ancestry few of the aristocracy could actually close their doors to her if she demanded entry.

  Lady Elaine swept through social London like a lighted torch.

  It was obvious when the Earl of Rothingham appeared and speedily achieved for himself a reputation of rakishness and extravagance that their names should be coupled and they should inevitably be drawn to each other as if by magnetism.

  “Did you attend the match this morning?” Lady Elaine asked.

  “I did,” the Earl replied, “and my man won.”

  “That must have infuriated the Prince!”

  “His Royal Highness bet heavily on Tom Tully. He was certain that his choice must be the victor. But he has forgiven me.”

  “Did you have luncheon at Carlton House?”

  There was something in the way that Lady Elaine asked the question that told the Earl she was well aware that the Prince would choose such an opportunity to speak to him about their relationship.

  “Yes, I had luncheon at Carlton House,” the Earl replied slowly.

  “And were you alone with the Prince at any moment?”

  “We had quite a long talk after the other guests had departed.”

  He waited sensing her anxiety and there was something cruel about the twist of his lips.

  “Did the Prince mention – me?” Lady Elaine asked hesitantly.

  “He spoke of you like a father,” the Earl replied, “or, should I say, like a matrimonial matchmaker?”

  There was a pause.

  “And what was your answer?” Lady Elaine whispered.

  She raised her face as she spoke so that her red lips slightly parted and were very inviting and very near to the Earl’s.

  “I assured the Prince,” the Earl said, putting his arms round her and feeling the warmth of her body as she drew nearer to him, “that while I loved beautiful women, I loved my freedom more.”

  “How could you?”

  There was no mistaking the sudden sharp note in Lady Elaine’s voice.

  In answer the Earl drew her closer.

  “Must you be so greedy?”

  “What do you mean – greedy?” she asked.

  “I am ready to offer you so much! So much that will amuse and gratify us both,” he replied. “But not, my dear, a wedding ring. That is too expensive even for me to afford.”

  Lady Elaine’s arms went round the Earl’s neck and she drew his face down to hers.

  “But I love you,” she whispered. “I love you.”

  In answer the Earl crushed his lips against hers.

  He felt a burning desire rise within them both, tempestuous, fiery and compelling, and he picked her up in his arms.

  She felt him carry her towards the bed, she took her lips from his and threw back her head.

  “You want me and – I want you,” she said her voice deep with passion. “Oh, why – why will you not marry me?”

  “You are too attractive to be shackled to only one man,” the Earl answered and she knew that he mocked her.

  She gave a cry of protest, but she had no chance to say more.

  He tumbled her down on the bed against the pillows and then his mouth, hard passionate and demanding, was on hers and all argument was forgotten.

  *

  It was some time later that the Earl drove his horses from Curzon Street into Berkeley Square and turned them towards Piccadilly.

  At the Covent Garden Opera House a rehearsal was in progress.

  Entering by the stage door the Earl made his way up the twisting iron staircase to a small dressing room.

  Michelle Latour had risen from the rank and file of the Corps de Ballet to a small part. She was therefore entitled to a dressing room.

  The room was filled with baskets, bouquets and vases of flowers was empty.

  The Earl waited for nearly five minutes before there came the clatter of feet on the stairs and Michelle came running into the room.

  At the sight of the Earl she flung out her arms and ran gracefully like a bird in flight to lay her head against his shoulder.

  “Mon cher, why you not tell me you come?” she asked, a broken accent giving a piquancy and an attraction to her words.

  “I was not sure what time I would be here,” the Earl replied, “but I came to tell you, Michelle, that I am leaving for the country immediately.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tiens! Then we cannot ’ave ze supper together. C’est triste – it is sad, very sad for me.”

  “I shall not be away long,” the Earl said.

  “I miss you, I miss you! Oh so very much!” Michelle murmured. “I shall, how you say – add up ze hours till you return.”

  “I shall be in London for our party on Thursday,” the Earl said. “The Prince of Wales has promised to be present.”

  “The Prince of Wales, c’est merveilleux! It will make everyone ’appy.”

  “It means so much to you?” the Earl enquired.

  Michelle shrugged her white shoulders.

  “Pas du tout! All that matters to me is that you should be there.”

  “You say that very prettily,” the Earl said, “but I fear, Michelle, like all your sex, you are a snob! An Earl is perhaps two feathers in your cap, but the Prince of Wales is a whole fantail of them!”

  Michelle laughed and extricated herself from his arms.

  “You look très chic, very dashing, mon cher. It’s true you go to ze country alone?”

  “I assure you I travel alone,” the Earl answered.

  “And when you arrive, when you see again ze château where you live as a child, you will ’ave guests. Une jolie femme, n’est-ce pas?”

  “No pretty ladies,” the Earl replied. “I shall see factors and farm managers, woodmen and carpenters. I shall be talking of improvements and renovations, but not of love.”

  “Voila! I will not be jealous,” Michelle said, “but I shall be lonely in that charmante petite residence you ’ave given me. It’s a dear little ’ouse and I love it very much, mais without you it’s empty!”

  “I am flattered,” the Earl smiled. “It is always a pleasure to give you presents, Michelle, and when I return we must look for that bracelet I promised you. One that will match the earrings
that glitter so entrancingly in your little ears.”

  “You will give me ze diamond bracelet I ’ave seen in Bond Street, oui!”

  “We will talk about it on Thursday,” the Earl promised, “and now I must go. Behave yourself while I am away.”

  He put his fingers under her chin and turned her face up to his.

  “I have an aversion to anyone keeping my bed warm when I am not in it.”

  “Do you think I could take another lover when you ’ave been so kind, so very kind and generous to me?” Michelle asked. “Hélas! Just ’ow could you think such a thing of me? ’Ow can you imagine I am such a low creature?”

  “I think you protest very eloquently,” the Earl said with a sarcastic note in his voice. “And I should suggest to your friend that the next time he visits you he should be careful not to leave his gloves behind. Such forgetfulness is so easily misconstrued.”

  He glanced as he spoke towards the side of the dressing table on which reposed a pair of kid gloves obviously of a masculine size and shape.

  Michelle gave a little scream of anger.

  “Cet homme est fou!” she cried, and then quickly, as if to cover her lapse, “non, non, they belong to no friend of mine! My dresser found them in ze corridor. Some gentleman must ’ave dropped them when visiting one of ze girls.”

  The Earl smiled and it was insulting.

  “You lie most fluently and almost convincingly,” he said and, before she could reply, he had gone from the dressing room leaving Michelle staring after him uncertainly.

  She listened to his footsteps receding into the distance and then she stamped her foot.

  “Quel imbécile! Salaud!” she exclaimed over and over again.

  She went towards the mirror over the dressing table, her eyes blazing, and she took up the gloves, then threw them on the floor and stamped on them.

  The Earl was still smiling, although there was no humour in it, as he swung himself up on the seat of his high-perched phaeton and took up the reins from his groom.

  There was a hard ruthless look in his eyes.

  He had no illusions about the morals of the ‘little bits of muslin’ he took under his protection, but at the same time he disliked being lied to and deceived.

  He had not really imagined that Michelle was deceiving him, it had been a bow drawn at a venture. But her reaction had told him the truth.