“You should indeed be clever and inventive enough to keep him at home.”
Latasha hoped he was right.
But she could not help herself recalling what Helen had said and how dreadfully dull it was for her surrounded only by women.
‘I would rather marry Patrick than let that happen to me,’ she told herself with determination.
CHAPTER THREE
Latasha with Nanny in attendance and her brother arrived at Norlington House in London.
The Duke’s secretary immediately informed them that everything was arranged for tomorrow morning.
“You have engaged a good courier, I do hope,” the Duke asked him.
“The manager of the agency has assured me that he is the very best they employ and he will meet Lady Gloria Ford as you have requested at Victoria Station.”
The Duke nodded and then he and Latasha walked into his study.
“I suppose, Latasha, you are still intent on acting out this ridiculous playhouse comedy,” he enquired of her when they were finally alone.
“Having put my hand to the plough, I cannot turn back,” she answered him gravely.
Then she gave a sudden cry.
“I have thought of something!”
“What can it be now, dear sister?”
“I ought to have a passport.”
“I have thought of that already and you have one. You are on mine. As you may remember we used it the last time we went yachting down the coast of France.”
Latasha gave a sigh of relief.
“I thought for a moment it had been forgotten.”
“If you remember, at the time I obtained a passport for myself with your name on it and one for Nanny in her own name.”
“Will it be safe for me to carry a passport as Lady Latasha Ling?”
“I see no reason why not. No one will see it except the French officials at Calais and those who will come to your compartment on the train as you cross frontiers.”
“You are so right and I suppose it is only because I have not travelled as much as you have that I suddenly felt panicky.”
“But don’t leave your passport lying about. Firstly if it is stolen, I will have to send you another and secondly people will think it rather strange that our friend the deputy Governess is pretending to be you!”
Latasha laughed.
“That will make everything even more complicated than it is at the moment.”
“I agree, Latasha, but I really am beginning to think that I should be coming with you after all.”
“Oh no, Harry, you are not so much worried about me as that you are missing all those magnificent Hungarian horses which Prince Kraus has been boasting about in his letters.”
“Perhaps you are right,” the Duke sighed. “But for Heaven’s sake, Latasha, take care of yourself.”
He expressed the same worry the next morning as they drove to the Railway Station.
The Duke had decided that there was no need for a second carriage with a servant and the luggage.
“I’ll look after her, Your Grace,” Nanny piped up. “She’s a good girl when she wants to be. If she gets into mischief and I cannot get her out of it, I’ll send you a telegram.”
“I know I can trust her with you, Nanny. Now just be extremely careful of any men who are too attentive on the journey.”
“You are making me expect much too much of the journey and of the Palace when I arrive,” added Latasha.
The Duke would have spoken, but she went on,
“The truth is I expect to be very disappointed and come hurrying back to you, thinking that whatever comes out of Windsor Castle is preferable to anything I may find in Oldessa!”
They were laughing and arguing as they had done the previous evening.
However, Latasha was well aware that her brother was really worried in case she landed herself in trouble.
There was still a feeling in England that foreigners were always up to something unattractive and the English had never really trusted any of them since the Battle of Waterloo.
When they reached the station, the courier was, as they had expected, waiting for them. He was a middle-aged man who seemed intelligent and had very good manners.
The Duke had already thought out what he would say to him, so taking him on one side, he explained,
“You will appreciate that Lady Gloria is young and a friend of my sister’s. She should not be travelling alone, but her father is very ill and I cannot at the moment spare the time to accompany her to Oldessa.”
The courier was listening intently as the Duke went on,
“However I am sure that you will do everything in your power to see that she is comfortable and not in any way upset by other passengers on the train.”
“You can leave it all to me, Your Grace. I promise you I will look after her Ladyship and see that she gets into no difficulties.”
“Have you been on the Orient Express before?”
“Three times now, Your Grace, and nothing yet has happened that I could complain about.”
“That is exactly what I wanted to hear,” the Duke exclaimed.
He gave the man money for the journey and a large tip for himself.
As he bade his farewell to Latasha, he felt that with Nanny beside her and the courier in charge she could not come to any harm.
The ferry boat from Dover to Calais carried a large number of passengers.
The sea was calm and the sun was shining brightly, but Nanny was very insistent that Latasha should stay in her private cabin.
Latasha really would have preferred to walk about on deck, but Nanny dissuaded her.
She said it would be a mistake to be mixed up with a lot of holiday people – many had drunk a great deal to prevent themselves from being seasick.
They arrived at Calais shortly after two o’clock.
The courier found two porters to carry their luggage to the Orient Express.
Latasha looked forward to seeing the most famous train in Europe.
She had read so much about it in the newspapers and she was thus not surprised to find that it looked even more splendid than she had expected.
It was as elaborate inside as the newspapers had described. The teak and mahogany panelling with inlaid marquetry in the compartment walls and on the doors was a luxury Latasha had not seen in any other train.
The armchairs were all covered in Spanish leather embossed with gold patterning.
She had read that at night she would be supplied with ‘exquisite silk sheets, the finest woollen blankets and a counterpane filled with the lightest of eiderdown’.
When she looked round her compartment, she said to Nanny, who had one next door,
“We are certainly travelling in luxury.”
Nanny was already most impressed by the heavily carpeted corridors and spring-loaded roller blinds.
She was to be over-awed by the flowered curtains which were held by silk cords and tassels of gold thread.
“It’s certainly good enough for a Prince, if you ask me,” muttered Nanny.
Then she turned abruptly away as she felt a little embarrassed at referring to a Prince as they were on their way to scrutinise one.
As the train pulled away from the station, Latasha settled herself down comfortably into an armchair.
The adventure she had longed for had now begun!
She could not help feeling just a little apprehensive about how it would all end.
Would she return home with Nanny disillusioned and dispirited?
That would surely mean she would be obliged to do whatever the Queen might ask of her without prevarication.
Nanny became aware that she was somewhat silent and looking depressed.
“Now come along, my dearie, take your hat off and tell me now what you’re going to wear for dinner. I’ve put a very pretty dress on top of one of the cases, but if you’ve set your heart on another, please tell me.”
Latasha smiled.
It was just
so like Nanny to bring her back to the present rather than let her speculate on the future.
She agreed to the gown that Nanny had suggested, and Nanny then hung it up in her own compartment.
They had eaten a light and not very appetising meal on the ferry.
As soon as the train had steamed some way into the countryside, a smartly dressed Steward came to ask whether they would like a glass of wine or tea or coffee.
Nanny asked at once for tea whilst Latasha chose coffee.
It was served in the most attractive china and none of the etcetera’s like milk, cream, sugar and petit fours were forgotten.
Latasha had been a little afraid when they arrived at Calais there might be someone who knew her among those waiting for the train to Paris or for the Orient Express.
She had therefore hurried quickly from the ferry to the platform where their train was waiting.
Deliberately she did not look round.
She knew it would be a mistake to ignore anyone she knew, but they might easily blurt out her name in front of the courier and she could hardly tell them not to do so.
Everyone enjoyed a secret, but if they were at all human they would be seeking to find out about it and then inevitably they would pass it on to someone else.
She could hear the sound of people talking outside in the corridor, thus she stayed quietly in her compartment until it was time to change for dinner.
To her surprise, Nanny said firmly that she would not be accompanying her.
“I felt a bit seasick on the ferry, dearie, although I did not say so and to tell the truth I’m tired. If I can have something to eat here and get into bed, that’s all I wants.”
“Then, of course, that is what you will have, Nanny dearest.”
She rang for a Steward who arrived instantly and he said it was no trouble to bring Nanny anything she chose to eat.
He produced a somewhat overwhelming menu and Latasha chose for her what she knew of old were Nanny’s favourite dishes.
At eight o’clock a quiet knock on the door informed Latasha that dinner would be served in fifteen minutes.
She pulled a wrap around her shoulders and walked along the corridor.
The dining car itself definitely more than lived up to her expectations. The tables were all laid with snow-white damask cloths.
The napkins were folded to look like butterflies and the cutlery was of solid silver and the plates were of gold rimmed porcelain.
What Latasha had not expected was that the waiters wore tail-coats, breeches and silk stockings.
There was a long menu and she felt it would put on pounds of weight to anyone who ate every course.
She was shown, as soon as she arrived, to a small comfortable table for two.
As the train had not seemed to be completely full, she hoped that she could remain unnoticed and that no one would take the empty place on the other side of the table.
She was served with the first course, which she had to admit was delicious.
Then a tall man who was obviously alone came into the dining car and sat down opposite her.
He had been offered a table on the other side of the car, but had refused it, insisting on the empty chair at her table.
As he sat down Latasha realised that he was French and thought he must be about thirty years of age.
From the way in which he was dressed and the way he behaved, she was certain that he considered himself of some importance.
She deliberately did not look at him but down at her plate and occasionally she turned her head to look out of the window.
She became aware that he was watching her.
They must have sat there in silence for almost five minutes before the newcomer began in excellent English,
“Forgive me, mademoiselle, if I introduce myself. I am Comte Estell de Fleur and I think if I am not mistaken, I have met your father on the Racecourse.”
Latasha could not help being amused.
She guessed that when he had insisted on the seat opposite her, he had asked the Steward her name.
This was certainly a most original approach that her brother would find entertaining.
She was well aware that the French thought that all English gentlemen owned racehorses.
Thus there was every chance of his striking a bulls-eye with his introduction, if she was indeed the daughter of an English aristocrat.
“I am afraid you are mistaken,” responded Latasha coldly. “My father is dead.”
“Then naturally I must now say how sorry I am that I have not met your father, perhaps I did so when you were very much younger than you are now.”
Because he had succeeded in twisting the situation around from what might have been an awkward situation, Latasha wanted to giggle.
‘After all,’ she thought, ‘there is no reason why I should not talk to him. When I arrive at my destination, I will never see him again.’
Aloud she commented,
“You sound, monsieur, as if you have racehorses of your own.”
“I have indeed, mademoiselle. At the moment I am planning to celebrate a win on the Racecourse in Paris two days ago. Will you join me in a glass of champagne?”
Latasha had not ordered herself anything to drink as she considered it would be wrong for her to drink alone.
In any case she always left the choice of wine to her brother and therefore she knew very little about wines.
“That is very kind of you,” she answered demurely.
The Comte beckoned to the wine waiter and then ordered a bottle of the very best champagne.
After Latasha had been brought another course, he ventured,
“Tell me, beautiful lady, about yourself. I cannot understand, as I am often in England, why I have not been accorded the honour of meeting you before.”
“Have you been racing your horses in England this Season?” Latasha asked him.
She was doing her best to ignore the compliment he had just paid her.
“I have entered one of my best horses at Ascot this year,” the Comte answered, “which I am quite certain will win and I hope to run another at Goodwood.”
Latasha thought that if she talked about horseracing he might discover who she really was.
She therefore remarked,
“I am afraid I know very little about racing. But I wish you success on both those occasions.”
“That is most kind of you, mademoiselle, I consider I am so lucky in meeting you today when I had expected to find myself bored among a crowd of dull passengers!”
“Perhaps you are being rather unkind to them,” she replied. “I have had no chance of meeting any of them as I am travelling with an elderly friend who is feeling a little seasick.”
She thought, although she could not be sure, that at the mention of her friend the Comte looked disappointed.
However he raised his glass of champagne.
“I am asking you now to drink to my success on the Racecourse and to my wonderful good luck at meeting you here on the Orient Express.”
Latasha felt obliged to raise her glass and touch his.
“Now for a moment we are united,” said the Comte flamboyantly “and that may be a lucky omen for me in the future.”
“I can only wish you good luck again at Ascot and Goodwood,” repeated Latasha.
“They are in the future, but for the next few days we are in the present, so please tell me about yourself.”
Latasha shook her head.
“I have been brought up never to talk to strangers and to be very discreet in what one says about oneself.”
The Comte chuckled.
“There are exceptions to every rule and I would like to think that I am one of them.”
He paused, but as Latasha did not speak he went on,
“What is more you cannot be so unkind to me when we are being carried away from all that is dull and ordinary into an enchanted world by what to my great surprise is a train drawn by a very modern locomotive.�
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He had either thought this out quickly or had used it on other occasions and it made Latasha laugh.
“I am serious, mademoiselle, I will be very hurt and distraught if we cannot spend the next day or two together, so that I can tell you how exquisitely beautiful you are.”
“That is something I must not listen to,” answered Latasha. “I can assure you that my father, if he was alive, would be very shocked at my talking to a stranger.”
“How could you do anything else when there is just a small table between us? And I am hoping and wishing with all my heart that there will soon be nothing.”
Because she was unable to think of anything to say, Latasha concentrated on her food.
She was, however, very aware that the Comte was gazing at her.
There was an expression in his eyes that she knew was dangerous.
Because Nanny was travelling with her, she had not anticipated that she would dine alone on the train.
If Nanny had now been sitting at the table with her, it would have been impossible for anyone to approach her.
“What are you thinking about, beautiful Lady?”
“I was actually thinking,” Latasha responded, “that only a Frenchman could possibly pay a complete stranger so many compliments in so short a time!”
“What else can I do? You are without question the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I assure you I have seen a great number. In fact I have paid many visits to London and enjoyed many parties I have been invited to, including those given by His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.”
“I feel sure they were most enjoyable, but I have spent most of my life in the country, which I really prefer to anywhere else.”
“Then you are certainly wasting your all loveliness, mademoiselle. I am sure there are not enough men in the country to tell you how beautiful you are, so it is obviously left to me to awaken you to the fact that you are unique and a Goddess amongst women.”
The way he spoke with just a slight French accent made what he was saying, Latasha felt, seem like a kind of game and it was not as embarrassing as if it had been said to her by an Englishman.
She turned to look out of the window.
The sun was sinking slowly on the horizon and the first evening star was appearing in the sky overhead.
Wanted a Royal Wife Page 5