Lovers in London (6 page)

He was, however, surprised that the Contessa was on the second floor.

He supposed the hotel was pretty full, because it was the beginning of the Season and a large number of visitors at this time of year came from overseas.

Room number 200 was easy to find halfway down a side corridor.

The Marquis was not in the least fazed to find the door of the sitting room unlocked.

When he turned the handle the door opened and he entered to find the room was just a mass of flowers. The fragrance of them, together with an exotic French perfume, filled the air.

There was no one in the room, but the door was ajar at the far end, which he assumed led into the bedroom.

The Marquis put his hat down on the nearest chair and walked towards it.

He pushed the door open to find the curtains drawn and only a dim light on one side of the large four-poster bed.

There were more flowers everywhere, just as there had been in the sitting room, and their fragrance was even more overpowering.

There, lying on the bed, he could just make out the shadowy outline of the Contessa.

She was naked with the exception of three rows of black pearls around her neck.

For a moment she did not move and as the Marquis stood staring at her, she threw her long white arms towards him.

He walked nearer to the bed.

Then, with his eyes twinkling and a slightly cynical smile on his lips, he remarked,

“I think, Inez, you are rather overdressed!”

Bending down he undid the pearls around her neck.

*

It was over an hour later that the Marquis arranged his tie in front of the mirror.

“Must you, my marvellous lover, leave so soon?” the Contessa crooned at him in her soft seductive voice.

“We shall meet tonight,” he replied. “As you well know the Duke of Sutherland is holding a large party here and I must go home to change.”

“When shall I be with you again?” she implored, turning from the mirror.

“That is now in the hands of the Gods.”

The Marquis picked up his coat, which was lying on the chair.

As he was fastening it, the bedroom door burst open and a woman rushed in.

“Señora, Señora,” she cried, “the Señor himself is on his way upstairs!”

The Contessa gave a scream of horror.

The Marquis without speaking, rushed into the sitting room, seized his hat and pulled open the door into the corridor.

Even as he passed through it he thought he saw a figure approaching from the far end of the corridor and he turned in the other direction.

He moved very quickly, but at the same time he was aware it would be impossible for the Conté not to notice him.

The corridor was a long one and the Marquis was wondering what he would do when he reached the end.

Then he realised it turned and just ahead of him at the first door he could see, there was a young woman about to enter her room.

He pushed her forward and closed the door quickly behind them both.

Then as she made a small sound of fear and turned to look at him nervously, he said,

“Please do not be scared, I am the Marquis of Rakecliffe and I desperately need your help. Please will you agree to anything I say?
It is a question of life or death.
”

As Lanthia stared at him in sheer astonishment, the door behind them opened.

CHAPTER THREE

The Conté burst headlong into the room and faced the Marquis who was standing beside Lanthia.

“I saw you coming out of my wife's room!” he roared. “How dare you go in there? You have insulted me and I demand – ”

The Marquis realised that the angry Spaniard was about to challenge him to a duel!

Realising that disaster beckoned the Marquis, thought quickly of how to avoid a challenge. Not because he was frightened of facing the Conté in combat, but because duelling had been strictly forbidden by Queen Victoria.

Duels did take place secretly in Green Park, but if it was discovered, the duellists were forced to go abroad into exile for a year or perhaps two.

And that was something the Marquis did not wish for under any circumstances.

Nor did he relish the scandal of being challenged by the Conté.

He recognised immediately that the drama of two aristocrats from different countries confronting each other in a duel would inevitably reach the newspapers.

He held up his hand and in a voice even louder and more aggressive than the Conté, he called,

“Stop! You are making a mistake!”

“I am not making a mistake and you are a liar!” the Conté snapped.

“I have been shopping with this lady,” the Marquis asserted in a firm but quieter tone, “and I think it would be polite if I introduced you – ”

He turned towards Lanthia, who was listening with eyes wide with horror.

She was holding under her arm one of the parcels from the dress shop and clutching a letter, which had been waiting for her at the reception desk.

As she had unlocked the door with her right hand she had held both the parcel and the letter in her left.

The Marquis could read the name on the letter and speaking deliberately slowly he intoned,

“Please allow me to present the Conté de Vallecas, who has clearly mistaken me for someone else and I would like you, Conté, to meet Miss Lanthia Grenville, who has paid me the great honour of graciously promising to be my wife!”

For a moment the Conté, who had been bursting to interrupt him, was stunned into silence.

“
Your wife
!” he repeated as if he could not believe what he had heard. “Has the elusive Marquis of Rakecliffe been captured at last? I do not believe it for a moment!”

“I can assure you,” said the Marquis, “that I am the luckiest man in the world. But what I have just told you is a close secret and must not be revealed to anyone because we have not yet informed our relations.”

“If you really expect me to believe that,” snarled the Conté, “you are very much mistaken. I demand, as I have every right to do, that you make reparation!”

Again the Marquis held up his hand.

“You forget yourself, Vallecas. You are now in the presence of a lady. If you really do wish to discuss your allegation, which as I have already said is completely and absolutely untrue, then we should do so when my fiancée is not present.”

The Conté wavered.

He believed the Marquis was lying, but at the same time as an aristocrat he could not degrade himself by being too offensive to someone of his own standing.

“I will make you pay for this insult, Rakecliffe!” he growled.

Then he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

The Marquis drew a deep sigh of relief, knowing that he had been standing on the very edge of disaster and had saved himself by only a hair's breadth.

He turned towards Lanthia and speaking in his most charming voice, which most women found irresistible, he said,

“Please forgive me, I would not have subjected you to this unpleasant scene if it was not a question of life or death.”

“He – intended,” Lanthia murmured anxiously, “to challenge you – to a duel?”

It was the first words she had spoken and her voice trembled.

“You are quite right,” responded the Marquis, “that is just what he intended and he is notorious for his success in duels. In fact it is widely rumoured he has already killed two men.”

Lanthia gave a cry of horror.

“Then I am very glad you are now safe from him. But just suppose he tells everyone we are engaged?”

“I think as a gentleman, albeit a Spanish one, he will stay silent, but it was the only way I could save myself from a most unpleasant duel. Moreover Her Majesty the Queen has very strictly forbidden duelling to take place.”

Lanthia gave a sigh.

Then as if she suddenly became aware she was still carrying a parcel, she put it down on a side table and laid the letter on top of it.

“I was fortunate in being able to read your name on the letter,” admitted the Marquis. “I assume you really are Miss Lanthia Grenville.”

Lanthia smiled.

“Yes, that is indeed my name and it was lucky the letter from my mother was waiting for me downstairs.”

“I was just wondering what I should call you, for of course if the Conté had found the name I gave you was not true, it would have added to his suspicions which I regret to say are already rampant.”

“So you
were
visiting his wife?”

“The Contessa, who is a charming lady, invited me to take tea with her. It is well known that her husband is frantically jealous and I would have been wiser to refuse.”

“But do you think you are safe now?”

The Marquis was silent for a moment and then he answered,

“My old Nanny always used to teach me that one lie leads to another and I am afraid I am still in a desperate position unless you continue to help me.”

Lanthia looked at him wide-eyed.

He now realised for the first time that she was very attractive. In fact she was extremely beautiful in her own way, just as the Contessa was beautiful in hers.

The Marquis walked to the window and stood for a moment looking down onto Portland Place.

There were many carriages moving on the road and it reminded him that his own horses were waiting.

He was, however, turning over in his mind what he should say to Lanthia, who had just taken off her gloves and was now removing her hat.

Just as she set it down, the sunshine streamed in through the window and turned her hair to gold.

‘She is lovely, in fact more beautiful than any girl I have seen for a long time,' the Marquis told himself.

He turned towards her saying,

“The way you can help me, if you would be so kind as to continue to do so – and it is difficult for me to express my eternal gratitude – is to attend a dinner party with me here tonight.”

“
A dinner party
?” repeated Lanthia.

“It is being given by a very close friend of mine, the Duke of Sutherland, and the Conté and the Contessa of Vallecas will be among the guests.”

“You mean,” said Lanthia slowly, “that the Conté will think it strange if you are there without me.”

“He will not only think it very strange indeed,” the Marquis replied, “but he will doubtless call me a liar again and challenge me to make reparation for what he considers to be an insult.”

“Then what can you do?”

“It is actually, Miss Grenville, a matter of what
you
will do! I am asking you to take pity on me and attend this party, which I think you will find very enjoyable and allay the Conté's suspicions at least until tomorrow.”

He was hoping as he spoke that the Contessa would have the intelligence to deny that he had been with her.

She had undoubtedly undertaken a number of love affairs when her husband was absent and she had thought that today she would be safe from discovery and so she could consequently deny all his accusations.

At the same time the Marquis thought that if he was indeed engaged, it would be highly unlikely that he would attend the Sutherland party without his fiancée.

Even if their engagement was a secret one it would still look suspicious to the Conté.

He was a very dangerous man and the Marquis now realised that he needed to contrive somehow to convince him that he was speaking the truth.

He could not imagine why he had been so foolish.

He had been unbelievably tempted by Inez to come to her bedroom, but he should have refused even if there was only the slightest possibility of her husband returning earlier than expected.

‘I was a complete fool', the Marquis told himself.

Equally he had always taken risks in his life and as one of his friends had remarked about him,

“There is no one quicker than Rake at getting into trouble and no one cleverer at getting out of it!”

Speaking again in a voice he knew was appealing, he pleaded,

“Please, Miss Grenville, save me. As I expect you know, it is always a mistake to upset or enrage our foreign visitors. Her Majesty is very anxious that we should be at peace with those of significance in Europe.”

“I thought,” commented Lanthia, “that he was a most sinister looking man and you must be careful that he does not hurt you as he obviously intends to do.”

“The first thing I have to do is to convince him that I was not endangering his relationship with his wife. He will be looking for you this evening and will be extremely suspicious if you are not there! So I can only beg you to accompany me to the Duke's party.”

“But surely the Duke will think it very strange?”

“I have known the Duke for a long time and he is a good friend of mine. If I ask a favour of him, he will not refuse me.”

He felt that Lanthia was wavering and so he put out his hand.

“Please,” he pleaded again, “do not throw me to the wolves. Or in this case a very savage Spaniard!”

Lanthia gave a laugh because she could not help it.

“I will come to the dinner party,” she agreed, “but I only hope I will not do anything to make matters worse for you than they are already.”

“On the contrary you will save me, Miss Grenville, and I can assure you that I shall be eternally grateful.”

He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.

“I must return to my own house and change into my evening clothes. I will collect you from here just before eight o'clock. That is when we are asked to arrive and I imagine dinner will be at half-past eight.

“Please put on your very prettiest gown, I am certain that once everyone sees you they will realise why I wanted you to be my wife.”

“I think from what the Conté was saying that you have a reputation of preferring to be a bachelor.”

The Marquis thought that was rather clever of her and he replied,

“You are absolutely right, Miss Grenville, or rather, may I call you, Lanthia? I must get used to calling you by your Christian name! I have a horror of marriage and I am determined to remain a bachelor until I am in my dotage!”