Forced to Marry

by Barbara Cartland

  “I understand,” Lord Locke agreed. “So I will come with you now.”

  Gytha drew in her breath and he knew by the expression in her eyes that was what she wanted.

  Then, as he looked at the clock, he had an idea.

  “I will come to speak to your grandfather,” he said, “and at the same time, because it will help me, I should be extremely grateful if you would dine here with me tonight.”

  “Dine with – you?”

  He saw that she had never thought of such an idea.

  “It is obvious that that is what we would both want,” he said, “if we were really engaged to be married.”

  “Yes – of course, but if you have a party, my Lord – they might think it rather – strange.”

  “What I am going to suggest to you,” Lord Locke said, working it out in his own mind, “is that we keep our engagement secret except from just two or three very close friends.”

  Gytha nodded agreement and he went on,

  “But the announcement will seem much more credible if we are seen together previously in each other’s company rather than if you are suddenly produced as some mythical figure they have never heard of before.”

  “Yes – of course I see – what you – mean,” Gytha murmured nervously.

  As she spoke, she realised that never for one moment had she visualised being involved in Lord Locke’s life.

  She was hoping that he should appear in hers like Perseus rescuing Andromeda.

  She was, however, intelligent enough to understand what he was suggesting and after a moment she said,

  “If that is what you want – I will come to – dinner, but I hope – because I am very unused to parties and to meeting – strangers I shall not – disgrace you.”

  “I am sure that is impossible,” Lord Locke smiled, “and now, as time is getting on, how do you suggest I travel with you to see your grandfather?”

  “I-I rode here.”

  “That makes things very much easier and certainly far quicker if we ride cross country,” Lord Locke said.

  He pulled the bell beside the fireplace as he spoke and when Bates opened the door he said,

  “I am going home with Miss Sullivan and I want a horse immediately. Also, Bates, tell Mr. Stevenson that Miss Sullivan will be my guest at dinner tonight.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  Bates was too well trained to show his surprise.

  But he could not completely suppress a hint of curiosity in his old eyes.

  As he closed the door behind him, Lord Locke said,

  “Now I insist, Gytha, on you having a glass of champagne not only because I think you will need it but also because we should drink a toast to the success of our little scheme.”

  He walked across to the grog table as he spoke.

  He poured out two glasses of champagne from the open bottle that was resting in a silver ice bucket.

  He carried the glasses towards her.

  Gytha rose to her feet and he thought how small and fragile she looked. And very much in need of protection.

  She took a glass from him and before he could speak she raised it saying,

  “To Hercules – and his very – kind owner!”

  Lord Locke laughed.

  “You have beaten me to the post, Gytha, for, of course, I had intended to toast you. Nevertheless let me say that I hope we will both be as successful as Hercules and I do think that you were very brave to come to me for help.”

  “I was very – frightened,” Gytha admitted, “and I still – am.”

  “I think really it is I who should be afraid,” Lord Locke said. “I have always believed your grandfather to be a very ferocious and formidable enemy.”

  Gytha felt that this was a rather good description of her grandfather.

  At the same time, as she did not wish to anticipate the worst, she said,

  “He is very old and extremely ill, although he will not acknowledge it.”

  She drank only a little of the champagne and then Bates announced that the horse was being brought round from the stables.

  “I think we should leave now,” Lord Locke suggested.

  Gytha preceded him out of the study.

  As she reached the hall, she saw that a tall good-looking young man was standing there.

  “I hear you are going out, Valiant,” he said to Lord Locke.

  As he spoke, his eyes were on Gytha.

  “I have something important to see to, Perry,” Lord Locke replied. “If I am late, please look after my guests until I return.”

  Peregrine’s eyebrows were raised.

  “Miss Sullivan is dining with us,” Lord Locke went on.

  He added to Gytha who had moved a little way from them,

  “May I introduce my great friend Peregrine Westington, who also served under your father in Portugal.”

  There was no doubting the sudden light that came into Gytha’s eyes at the mention of her father’s name.

  She held out her hand.

  “Perhaps one day – we could talk about him?” she said.

  “That would give me great pleasure,” Perry replied.

  Lord Locke could see the horses waiting for them at the bottom of the steps.

  He hurried Gytha away towards them.

  He was aware as he did so that Perry was looking at him with a puzzled expression in his eyes.

  Gytha knew that they had very little time and so she set a good pace as they rode across the fields by the most direct route.

  It made the distance between the two big houses far less than if they had kept to the road.

  Dragonfly acquitted himself well, but Gytha could not pretend that he was not outclassed by Lord Locke’s horse.

  He was nearly as magnificent as the black stallion that he had won his steeplechase on.

  Only as they drew near to her home did Gytha begin to feel very nervous.

  She had not reasoned out to herself what she would do if her grandfather threw himself into one of his rages.

  And if he insisted on Lord Locke leaving the house.

  Remembering what had happened in the past, she could not even be sure that he would not call for the servants to have him flung out.

  Then her perception that she had never known to be wrong told her that in his heart he despised both his nephews and he disliked the idea of their being able to spend his money.

  As they reached the front door, a groom came hurrying from the stables to take their horses.

  She saw the astonishment in his face at seeing Lord Locke beside her.

  It made her remember for how many years the feud between the two families had existed. There had been no communication of any sort between them except for letters of abuse.

  They walked side by side up the steps and, with a hint of amusement in his voice, Lord Locke said,

  “Don’t be frightened. This is our ‘Waterloo’ and we have to be victorious!”

  She flashed him a little smile of gratitude.

  There was, however, a distinct tremor in her voice as she asked one of the footmen,

  “Where – is – Sir Robert?”

  “In the library, miss,” he replied. “He were askin’ for you a short time ago.”

  Gytha walked towards the library with Lord Locke beside her.

  As she went she pulled off her riding hat and he thought that her fair hair was like a ray of sunshine in the darkness of the corridor.

  A footman opened the door of the library.

  As Gytha walked in followed by Lord Locke, she saw her grandfather in his wheelchair.

  He was sitting in the window, looking out at the setting sun.

  There was, however, a scowl between his eyes and she knew without being told that he was angry because she had not been available when he wanted her.

  She was, however, relieved to see that Dobson, his valet, was not with him.

  She walked across the room and Sir Robert turned his head to say in a disagreeable voice,
/>   “So here you are and about time too!”

  It was then he saw Lord Locke behind her and he stared at him with undisguised curiosity.

  Gytha went to her grandfather’s side.

  In a very small frightened voice she said,

  “I have brought – Lord Locke to meet you – Grandpapa and to – tell you that we are – engaged to be – married.”

  “Locke? Did you say Locke?” the old man roared.

  Lord Locke held out his hand.

  “I am delighted to meet you, Sir Robert. It is something I have been wanting to do for years. I am sure you will agree that it is time we ceased to allow anything so unimportant as Monk’s Wood to divide our two families.”

  Sir Robert stared at him.

  “Are you telling me that you are the young man who now owns Locke Hall which I have not set foot in for over twenty-five years?”

  “I am, Sir Robert, and now that my father is dead and I wish to become engaged to your granddaughter, I would like to give you a peace offering in the shape of Monk’s Wood.”

  “A peace offering? What the devil do you mean by that?” Sir Robert demanded. “Monk’s Wood belongs to me and always has!”

  “Then shall I say that I will not only relinquish all claims to it but will also ensure that it no longer figures on the maps of the Locke estate?”

  “I should hope not,” Sir Robert snapped. “It was disgraceful putting it there in the first place!”

  “I am quite prepared to agree with you on that,” Lord Locke replied benignly.

  “You are, are you? Soft-soaping me, I suppose, because you have your eye on my granddaughter!”

  “You can hardly blame me for that, sir. She is an unusually lovely girl!”

  “You doubtless as well have your eyes on the fortune she will inherit when I die,” Sir Robert said sourly.

  “On the contrary, sir,” Lord Locke replied. “My father left me very comfortably warm in the pocket and I have no interest whatever in any dowry my future wife might bring with her.”

  “‘Warm in the pocket’, eh?” Sir Robert said with interest. “I have often wondered if he was as rich as he professed to be.”

  “I can assure you, any stories you have heard about his wealth were not exaggerated.”

  There was then a small silence.

  Gytha was afraid that her grandfather might be insulting to Lord Locke.

  So she put her hand on his arm and said,

  “Please, Grandpapa, allow me to become engaged to Lord Locke.”

  “I was just wondering,” Sir Robert answered shrewdly, “how you have had the audacity to be acquainted with this man when it has been forbidden to even mention his name in this house.”

  “Be honest, Grandpapa,” Gytha said softly. “I would not mind betting that you know already how brilliantly Lord Locke won the steeplechase that took place on his land this morning.”

  “A close finish from all I hear,” Sir Robert growled.

  Gytha gave a cry of delight.

  “Then you did know! I was quite certain that you could not resist being interested. I only wish you could have seen the race. It was absolutely thrilling. And the jumps were higher than they have ever been before!”

  Her grandfather gave her a sharp glance.

  What she said confirmed his suspicions that she had attended other steeplechases that had taken place on the forbidden territory.

  Then, as if he was prepared to play his part as things seemed to be going so well, Lord Locke said,

  “What I would like to do, Sir Robert, if it interests you, is to ride my stallion who won the race over here one day soon so that you can see him. I believe him to be a very exceptional horse and I would value your opinion on him.”

  “You would, would you?” Sir Robert retorted. “Well, I suppose, as I cannot move out of this damned chair, you had better bring the animal to me and the sooner the better from all I know about my health.”

  It was so like him, Gytha thought, to be aware that his days were numbered and no one had dared tell him so.

  Because it appeared that he was being more amenable she said,

  “Now that you have seen Lord Locke, Grandpapa, and know what a magnificent rider he is, you will understand why I want to marry him.”

  Sir Robert looked at her from under belittling eyebrows.

  “You prefer him, I suppose, to one of your cousins?”

  “He served under Papa and, although I did not know it until quite recently – Papa once saved his – life.”

  “I was aware of that.”

  “You were? You never told me!”

  “I told your father that it was a great mistake to fraternise with the enemy.”

  Sir Robert spoke harshly.

  At the same time there was an undoubted twinkle in his eye and Lord Locke laughed.

  “Personally, sir, I am very grateful to be alive and I think now perhaps it was Fate that brought Gytha and me together.”

  “If you ask me, it was as gross deception, sneaking about behind my back,” Sir Robert grumbled.

  “You must please forgive me, Grandpapa,” Gytha said.

  “I don’t know about that,” Sir Robert replied. “One should not rush into these things. It does not necessarily follow that because a man is a good horseman he will also make a good husband!”

  There was a short silence before Gytha faltered,

  “If you will allow us to be – secretly engaged while you get to know Lord Locke and will, I am certain, come to approve of him, then you can tell Vincent and Jonathan that there is no point in – either of them – offering for – me.”

  Gytha’s voice trembled on the last words.

  It told Lord Locke, as he listened to her, how frightened she really was.

  He was therefore not surprised when Sir Robert roared,

  “So that is how the wind blows! To avoid marriage with your cousins you are prepared to accept the attentions of any hobbledehoy you happen to meet!”

  “Oh, Grandpapa, that is not fair,” Gytha answered. “You can hardly call Lord Locke with all his decorations a hobbledehoy.”

  The old man did not reply.

  Gytha had the idea that he was, in fact, a little ashamed of what he had said.

  Then, as if he must assert himself, he growled,

  “Have it your own way, but I will have nothing made public, you understand, until I know Locke better than I do at the moment and am convinced that he is not bribing me with a wood I already own.”

  “I would like you to consider, sir,” Lord Locke said, “that if and when Gytha and I are married, the two estates will be merged, making a whole that will be the most important in the County and will certainly exceed that of any other landowner.”

  Gytha knew that this was a telling argument.

  It was one that her grandfather would appreciate. But, as if he did not wish to appear to agree too readily to what had been suggested, he said,

  “A secret engagement and not a word to anyone, do you understand? Not a word! I will have no puffing and blowing in The Gazette until I know a great deal more about you, young man, and it had better be to your advantage.”

  Then before Lord Locke could speak he shouted,

  “I am tired! It’s time I went to bed. Where is Dobson?”

  Even as he said the words the door opened.

  And Gytha knew that as usual her grandfather’s valet had been listening at the door.

  He hurried to the back of the wheelchair, saying as he did so,

  “I’m here, Sir Robert, and it’s after your bedtime.”

  “I know that, you fool!” Sir Robert replied. “It is what I have just said. Take me upstairs.”

  Gytha bent forward and kissed his cheek.

  “Goodnight, Grandpapa, and thank you for being so kind. Lord Locke and I will do exactly as you have suggested.”

  “You had better make sure of that,” the old man retorted, “or I will have no more billing and cooing between you! Then
you will marry a man I will choose for you.”

  With that parting shot Dobson pushed the wheelchair out of the room.

  They could still hear Sir Robert’s voice groaning at his valet as he was taken down the passage.

  Gytha felt that her legs would no longer support her and she sank down into the nearest armchair.

  “I am – sorry,” she stuttered a little faintly.

  “Is he always so querulous?” Lord Locke asked sympathetically.

  “Querulous,” Gytha repeated. “I assure you, he was charming, delightful and in every different from the way he usually is.”

  She sighed.

  “He rants, roars and takes everybody to task, usually for something they have not done.”

  “And you have put up with this for a long time?”

  “Ever since Mama – died. And being alone with him in this big house is very – very – difficult.”

  “I can understand that,” Lord Locke replied, “but at least you will have a change of scene this evening.”

  He moved towards the door, saying,

  “Go up and dress, Gytha, so that you will look your best for the party tonight and I will send a carriage for you in an hour’s time.”

  “I could use – Grandpapa’s carriage,” Gytha suggested tentatively.

  “I am quite sure that it would annoy your grandfather to have his horses taken out at night while mine could do with some exercise. Don’t be late as there is somebody I want you to meet before dinner.”

  He did not explain who this was.

  Before Gytha could ask any questions, she could already hear his footsteps going down the passage.

  ‘I never thanked him,’ she thought to herself.

  Then she remembered that it would be something she could do this evening.

  Only when she ran upstairs to change did she wish that she had not agreed to dine at Locke Hall.

  She was sure that there would be a very large party and it would be difficult to explain her presence.

  She supposed that other people who lived in the neighbourhood would be guests and they would certainly think it very strange to find her in Lord Locke’s company.

  It was all very complicated.

  But she could hardly believe that her plan had been so successful.

  Her grandfather had agreed not to force her immediately into marriage with one of her cousins.