The Ruthless Rake

by Barbara Cartland

  “Still worrying about it?” the Earl enquired. “Set your mind at rest, I have already given your Nanny all that she has expended. She will pay the shops when the carriage comes to fetch her and your luggage.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Syringa cried again.

  “Does it really mean so much to you?” the Earl asked in a wondering voice.

  “I will never – never in the whole of my life owe anybody – one penny. I will never buy – anything that I cannot afford. I will never – never get into debt.”

  She spoke passionately and then, as if she suddenly remembered, her fingers went up to her lips.

  “But of course,” she said in a low voice, “I will always be in – debt to – you.”

  “I have told you to forget it,” the Earl said sharply. “If there is one thing I dislike, Syringa, it is women who whine on about a subject I have no wish to discuss.”

  His tone was authoritative and Syringa looked at him a little apprehensively.

  There was something about him that she thought could be very frightening. He had been so friendly, so gentle and so understanding when she had met him in the wood. But now he was different.

  It almost seemed as though there was a barrier between them, a barrier, she thought, that appeared to make him hard and almost aggressive towards her.

  “I will fetch my hat,” she said shyly and, dropping the Earl a little curtsey, she went from the room.

  She sped up to her bedroom where Nanny was already on her knees in front of a round-topped trunk.

  “Nana! Nana!” Syringa exclaimed excitedly. “We are to go to King’s Keep!”

  “I know,” she answered. “His Lordship has told me. I don’t know what your mother would have thought about it! I don’t for sure.”

  “Why should Mama mind?” Syringa asked in surprise. “His Lordship says we cannot stay here alone, although why not I don’t understand.”

  “This is his Lordship’s house now, Miss Syringa, you must realise that. People would talk. You livin’ here entirely alone except for me.”

  “Who would talk and who would care?” Syringa asked with a little shrug of her shoulders. “But it will be wonderful to be at King’s Keep. You know how beautiful it is, Nana, and you know how fond I have always been of it.”

  “Yes, dearie,” she replied.

  Syringa felt that something was worrying her, but she could not imagine what it could be.

  “Pack everything I have,” Syringa said, “and, Nana, don’t forget your iron. I shall look sadly unfashionable in the elegance and grandeur of his Lordship’s home. But at least I can have fresh fichus and you can press my sashes into a good shape.”

  “We can’t stay there long, Miss Syringa,” Nanny murmured.

  Syringa was intent on putting a large straw hat on her head and tying the ribbons under her chin.

  “It’s too hot for me to wear a cape,” she said, “and anyway it’s too threadbare. I will carry a shawl over my arm. Do I look all right?”

  She turned towards Nanny, her eyes shining. She looked very lovely, very young and very innocent.

  “You look all right, dearie,” Nana said and there was a suspicion of a sob in her voice.

  “Cheer up, Nana,” Syringa smiled. “I know you must mind leaving here, but think how wonderful it will be to have lots to eat and cups and cups and cups of tea for you!”

  Nanny did not reply and Syringa pulled open the door and ran downstairs.

  The Earl was already in the phaeton, his horses were moving restlessly, eager to be off.

  The groom assisted Syringa up beside him and covered her knee with a light rug.

  “Bring Mercury along at once, Jim,” the Earl said to the groom, “and don’t ride him hard. He’s not up to scratch at the moment.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  The Earl started his horses. Syringa looking up at him knew that she had never seen a man look so elegant or in charge of such magnificent horseflesh.

  It was a thrill that she had never experienced before to be behind such fine animals.

  She did not speak and, after they were clear of the ill-kept drive and on the highway the Earl asked,

  “Are you all right?”

  “I am very excited!” Syringa answered. “I suppose it’s very reprehensible of me, but I don’t mind leaving my home. It has not been a very happy place these past three years.”

  She was silent for a moment and then she added,

  “But Nana seems upset that we are going to King’s Keep. I cannot think why.”

  “Perhaps she is afraid of the big bad Earl.”

  Syringa laughed.

  “I suppose that is the truth! Someone told her that you were a rake and I believe she is really shocked.”

  “Do you know what a rake means?” the Earl replied.

  Syringa considered for a moment.

  “I think it means a man who is very gay and enjoys every moment of his life without worrying how other people may be affected. I suppose Charles II was a rake and most of his courtiers.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “I see you are well read, Miss Melton.”

  “I had lessons with the Vicar,” Syringa explained. “Mama insisted that I should be well taught.”

  “I cannot believe that the Vicar allowed you to read much about the Court of Charles II.”

  “My knowledge of such things certainly did not come from the Vicar,” Syringa agreed. “But the Colonel allowed me to visit the library at King’s Keep – your library. I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to seeing it again.”

  “I suspect you know my house better than I know it myself,” the Earl said.

  “I used to go there a great deal until the Colonel became really ill and then he was allowed no visitors,” Syringa replied. “I was very fond of him and he was most kind to me. He allowed me to ride in the woods. And he permitted me to read his books and he taught me many things about the pictures, the furniture and your very magnificent silver.”

  “Now you in turn must tell me all about my possessions,” the Earl suggested.

  “I should like to do that,” Syringa answered.

  They drove a little further and then the Earl asked,

  “Have you no relations?”

  Syringa shook her head.

  “Papa was an orphan and my mother’s father and mother never spoke to her after she ran away with Papa. My grandfather died, I believe, shortly after Mama, which was why the money that we used to live on came to an end.”

  “No aunts, cousins, relatives of any sort?” the Earl enquired.

  “I am afraid not,” Syringa said, “or if there are, I don’t know of them.”

  She was silent for a moment and then she said in a very low voice,

  “Are you frightened that I shall be an – encumbrance? I promise you, my Lord, I will do my very best to think of some – manner in which I can support myself.”

  “And have you any qualifications for such a formidable task?” the Earl asked.

  “None, apart from being educated and being able to ride,” Syringa answered. “Do you think perhaps I could break in horses? I am told that some women work in livery stables so that the Ladies of Quality can look elegant on horseback even if they are not good riders.”

  “That is certainly not a job I would recommend for you,” the Earl said, and his tone was decisive.

  “Well, perhaps we will be able to think of something soon,” Syringa said. “I will not be a trouble, I promise you, and, if you wish to be rid of me, you have only to shut me up in your library.”

  The Earl seemed amused and at that moment they turned in through the huge gates of King’s Keep.

  Surmounted by two stone lions, which seemed to stand sentinel not only over the entrance but over the huge surrounding wall and the gates embellished with the Roth Coat-of-Arms were magnificent.

  But they were only a prelude, Syringa thought, to the beauty of the avenue with its ancient oak trees and the f
irst sight of King’s Keep itself standing out in its majesty in the valley between the green hills.

  As always when she saw it, Syringa drew in her breath at the sheer beauty of the great stone building with its hundreds of iridescent windows and the shimmering silver of the lakes at its feet.

  “It impresses you?” she heard the Earl ask.

  “It’s lovely!” Syringa answered. “Every time I see it, it seems more beautiful than the time before. I have not seen anything of the world, but I am sure that no Palace in any other country could be more breathtaking.”

  “That is what I always think myself.”

  There was a note of sincerity in the Earl’s voice that was unmistakable.

  “You used to think about it when you were away, did you not?” Syringa asked.

  “How did you know that?” he asked in surprise.

  “I felt sure of it,” she answered. “Even I, who have no bond with King’s Keep, dream about it and, when I am very frightened or unhappy, the thought of it, solid, secure and safe all through the centuries comforts me.”

  She sensed that the Earl agreed with her even though he did not say so, only tooling his horses with an expertise that aroused her admiration.

  He drew them to a standstill in front of the great front door with a flight of stone steps leading up to it.

  Syringa was helped from the phaeton and then, as the Earl joined her on the steps, he held out his hand.

  “Welcome to King’s Keep!”

  She smiled up at him, her eyes were like stars as she said breathlessly,

  “It’s so – exciting being here with – you.”

  Chapter Five

  Syringa was humming as she finished dressing.

  “It’s a lovely day, Nana,” she called out, “and there are so many thrilling things to do.”

  “You had a good night?” Nanny asked.

  “I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow,” Syringa answered.

  Nany gave a sigh and it sounded like one of relief.

  “Have a nice ride on Mercury, dearie,” she said. “You look better already.”

  “And I feel fatter,” Syringa laughed.

  She thought about the large dinner that had been served last night and how exciting it had been to sit opposite the Earl in the small dining room that he used when he was alone.

  There had been dish after dish of delicious and exotic food, but, while at first Syringa had thought that she was hungry, she soon found it impossible to eat any more.

  The Earl had watched her with a smile as she regretfully declined the quails in aspic and a syllabub of lemon and cream.

  “I promised you I would fatten you up,” he muttered, “but it seems unlikely if you refuse every dish that is offered to you.”

  “I have eaten so much already,” Syringa said, “and it has all been so delicious! I had no idea that food could taste so good.”

  “Anything tastes good if you are hungry,” the Earl smiled.

  He told her a story how once, when he was in India, he was lost for two days on the plains without food or water.

  It seemed to Syringa that they had been telling each other stories the whole afternoon.

  They had made a tour of the house and she had related to him some of the interesting tales the Colonel had told her about the furniture, the pictures, and the exquisite objets d’art that had been collected by the Roths down the centuries.

  In a cabinet in the Blue Salon there was the watch set in crystal that King Charles I had given on the scaffold to Sir Richard Roth.

  Hanging in the library was a portrait of his son, Charles II, which had been painted when he had stayed at King’s Keep with the house in the background.

  There was a walnut table that Queen Anne had presented to the Earl of Rothingham and the medals he had gained when fighting with Marlborough. And there was a portrait of the first Earl in his sleep painted by Moratti.

  “I said that you probably knew more about my house than I know myself,” the Earl remarked when they had retired to the Green Salon for tea.

  Syringa spooned the tea leaves from the silver canister which in the previous century had been kept locked because tea was so expensive and poured from a beautiful silver teapot that had been given to the Earl of Rothingham in the reign of King George I.

  There had been cakes and sandwiches and tiny scones to eat and having finished Syringa sat down on the hearthrug at the Earl’s feet.

  It was a warm day, but there were fires in all the big rooms which, having not been lived in for so long, felt chilly when one first entered them.

  “You look happy,” the Earl said after a moment.

  “I am happy!” Syringa replied. “Happier than I ever remember being before. Perhaps it is the contrast from being so miserable for so long.”

  He did not answer. Only his eyes watched her, noting the soft curve of her lips and the clear line of her pointed chin above her long white neck.

  They talked about the house until it was time to dress for dinner.

  “Do you realise,” Syringa asked when she joined the Earl in one of the big anterooms filled with pictures of his ancestors, “that this is the first time I have ever dined alone with a man?”

  “I am honoured,” the Earl replied.

  “I am only telling you that in case I make mistakes or worse still you find me a bore,” Syringa said frankly. “But there are so many things I wish to talk about to your Lordship and I can only ask you to forgive me if you find it wearying.”

  “I am not likely to do that,” the Earl replied in his deep voice.

  Syringa had made him laugh during dinner and their conversation flowed without a pause until they retired to the library.

  “I thought we would sit here this evening,” the Earl said.

  He looked round the magnificent book-lined room with its long high windows covered with red velvet curtains, a huge desk in the centre of a fine Persian carpet and the big comfortable sofas set in front of the log fire.

  “I love this room,” Syringa sighed. “Whenever I have come here I have always felt as though I was entering a treasure house full of secrets more valuable and more precious than any jewels.”

  The Earl smiled.

  “You must tell me what you have enjoyed reading,” he suggested.

  “I like the books about Charles II best,” Syringa answered. “There are so many here because the King hid at King’s Keep. I love to think of him coming back to England after all those years of exile. Then England became joyful and gay again and the King the gayest of all!”

  She stopped speaking and clasped her hands together.

  “I have just remembered something so exciting that I found in a book in the library!” she cried. “Did you know that your name Ancelin means ‘a God’?”

  “Yes, I was aware of it,” the Earl replied.

  “Is it not a strange coincidence,” Syringa went on, “that the moment I saw you, you reminded me of Jupiter?”

  “Very strange!” the Earl agreed.

  They talked for a little longer about books until the Earl realised that Syringa’s eyelids were dropping and her replies to his questions were getting slower and slightly incoherent.

  “You are tired,” he said suddenly. “Go to bed, child. I should have remembered that you would be weak after eating so little for so long.”

  “I do feel – sleepy,” Syringa admitted.

  She rose to her feet and standing beside his chair she said softly,

  “Thank you – thank you – for a wonderful day. I hate to think it is over, but – there is always tomorrow, is there not?”

  “Yes, there is always tomorrow,” the Earl smiled.

  She curtseyed and, before he could rise to open the door for her, she had slipped away from the room.

  Upstairs Nanny was waiting for her in the vast State bedroom with its huge four-poster bed, hung with embroidered curtains.

  “Oh, Nana, why did you wait up?” Syringa asked. “You kn
ow I always put myself to bed!”

  “I wanted to see you safe and sound,” Nanny answered.

  She hesitated a moment and asked,

  “You wouldn’t like me to sleep with you, Miss Syringa?”

  “Sleep with me!” Syringa exclaimed in astonishment. “Why, Nana, what a ridiculous idea!”

  “I don’t like leavin’ you alone.”

  “I have always been alone,” Syringa answered.

  “Then promise me, dearie, you’ll lock your door.”

  “But why? Why should I do that?” Syringa enquired.

  Nanny seemed about to speak and then obviously changed the words that she was about to say.

  “There is talk of robbers in the neighbourhood,” she murmured.

  “Robbers!”

  Syringa laughed.

  “I don’t believe it and even if there are they would find it hard to get into King’s Keep. His Lordship was telling me this afternoon that he has appointed two new nightwatchmen. So you can sleep comfortably in your bed, Nana, without worrying.”

  “Lock your door. Miss Syringa, I beg of you,” Nanny pleaded.

  “All right, if it gives you any pleasure,” Syringa agreed yawning. “I am too tired to argue.”

  She slipped her nightgown over her head and heard Nanny move towards the door before she said insistently,

  “Say your prayers and then lock the door.”

  “Very well,” Syringa agreed. “And good night, Nana dear. Do stop worrying about me.”

  She closed the door and Syringa was alone.

  What could be agitating the old woman, she wondered. It was so unlike Nana to fuss. Who could possible harm her at King’s Keep?

  She was so tired that she slipped straight into bed.

  ‘I will say my prayers lying down,’ she thought.

  Then, almost before she had finished the first one, she was asleep.

  *

  Awaking after a long dreamless night, she felt all the exuberance and vitality of youth rushing back into her body again.

  It was a wonderful change after the listlessness and apathy she had felt this past week when there had been insufficient to eat.

  The breakfast that Nanny had brought her was delicious and she knew that she was ready for a long gallop on Mercury. He too, she thought, would be very much more frisky than he had been without his oats.