Bachelor Duke Read online

  ‘That is of no consequence, my dear,’ Lady Myers put in. ‘We have already agreed that you shall come to England with us, so it makes no difference what his reply is. We will deal with the Duke when we arrive.’

  How did one deal with a duke? Sophie asked herself. Lady Myers was evidently not daunted by the prospect, but Sophie herself could not help wondering about him. He was obviously younger than his brother from whom he had inherited the title, but, even so, he must be in his sixties. Was he a crabby old man, or had age made him tolerant? She hoped the latter if he was to overcome the family’s antagonism towards the Langfords, of which she was one. If the reaction of her father’s brother was a yardstick of what she might expect, then she had a mountain to climb. Going home overland would delay the moment of truth and for that reason alone she was willing to fall in with Lord Myers’s plans. Besides, seeing Paris again and being able to compare it with the Paris of ten years before, and talking to the people, would provide more material for her book. She was beginning to set great store by the book.

  Two days later they set out in his lordship’s coach, followed by another bearing his valet, a footman and her ladyship’s maid and their luggage. They were all hardened travellers so the discomfort of the journey, bad roads, unsavoury inns, baking sun and torrential rain were endured with fortitude. It took a week to cross into France and then the hazards were not so much natural as man-made. Napoleon might have abdicated and been exiled to the island of Elba, but he was far from discredited with his people. Bands of marauding soldiers with no one to lead them attacked travellers, shouting ‘Vive L’Empereur’ and ‘He will be back!’ It was only Sophie’s skill as a linguist that convinced them they were not the enemy, but friends who would rejoice at Bonaparte’s triumphant return. It was quite frightening at times, worse than being an alien in Italy, which was itself a conquered nation, and she was relieved when their carriage drew up outside the Hôtel de Luxembourg in Paris.

  The city was so full it was almost impossible to move and if Lord Myers had not sent ahead to bespeak rooms, they would never have found a pillow on which to lay their heads. Their rooms were comfortable, but they were so tired it would not have mattered what they were like and Sophie slept soundly.

  After breakfast the following day the two ladies, accompanied by her ladyship’s maid and the footman, set out on foot to explore the city while Lord Myers went off to call on the Duke of Wellington and to pay his respects to the new monarch, though how long the latter could hold on to his crown, Sophie was doubtful. He was no more popular with his subjects than the Regent was in England.

  Although the city had been spared a battle it looked shabby and dirty, a state that was not improved by the mass of common soldiery, mostly Austrian and Prussian, who roamed the streets and lived in tented quarters in the parks, behaving like turkey cocks, mixing with the tourists who came in the thousands. The ladies were agog to see the fashions, rakes and dandies come to chance their arms either with the ladies or at cards; some had come to view the art treasures Napoleon had looted from the cities he occupied, some even to sample the food and wine, though how they expected that to be as good as before the war Sophie did not know.

  Strolling down the wide boulevards and busy side streets, Sophie was startled by the contrast between the rich tourists and well-stocked shops and the abject poverty of the inhabitants who importuned them for alms or offered items for sale that Sophie, even in her own pocket-pinched state, would have consigned to the midden heap. ‘I do not feel at all comfortable,’ her ladyship said, as they were roughly pushed aside by an officer trying to control a mob bent on raiding a baker’s shop. ‘Let us go back to our hotel.’

  It took them half an hour to battle their way through the throng and by that time both had had more than their fill of Paris. ‘Henry, I think we should set off for England at once,’ Lady Myers told her husband when he joined them for supper. ‘I have seen enough of France; besides, if we stay here, Sophie will miss half the Season…’

  ‘Oh, please do not take that into account,’ Sophie said. ‘I shall be content simply to have a roof over my head.’

  ‘Fustian! I undertook to bring you out and bring you out I shall. That is if Dersingham is so ungracious as to refuse you, which I am persuaded he will not. After all, he is a duke and duty-bound to look to his family. Lord Myers, are you set on staying?’

  ‘Not at all, my love. We will set off for Calais tomorrow. The King is going to England himself and we can follow his retinue, it will be safer.’ Why the King, who had only just returned to Paris after years of exile, should decide to leave it again so soon was a mystery to Sophie.

  Trailing behind the new king was an exhausting business. Sometimes they travelled at breakneck speed because his aides feared ambush, sometimes they crawled because his Majesty was tired and wished to sleep, so that his coach crawled along. In Calais they had to wait about while the packet carrying the royal party set sail and then negotiate a passage on the next one. It was not until they were halfway across the Channel on The Sea Maid that Sophie began to wonder what lay ahead of her in England.

  Would the Duke acknowledge her? Would his wife welcome her? There would be children and grandchildren, other cousins surely? Lying on her bunk while the ship tossed about on the rough sea of the Channel, she wondered what he would be like. Fat or thin? Proud or jovial? And his home? Her mother, in one of her rare moments of nostalgia, had said Dersingham Park in Suffolk was a huge palace with hundreds of rooms and extensive grounds, but in late April the Duke would no doubt be at his London mansion in South Audley Street. Unless, of course, he was too old to indulge in the Season’s amusements and preferred to remain in the country all the year round. Then perhaps his sons and daughters would have come to London for the Season and what would they make of her, the poor relation?

  All this conjecture only served to show her how little she knew of the family and how foolish she was to expect anything from them. She was beginning to regret the letter she had sent introducing herself. She had not exactly thrown herself on his Grace’s mercy, but had told him she was alone and returning to England and would like to call on him. Had it sounded like begging? Or too proud? Tossing and turning, as the vessel tossed and turned, she could find no rest and wished herself at the bottom of the sea, a wish she expected to be granted at any moment. But she slept at last; when she woke, the sea was calm and so was she. Whatever lay ahead she would meet head-on. Her pride would sustain her.

  ‘Harri, do I know anyone called Sophia Langford?’ James asked his sister.

  ‘My dear man, you surely do not expect me to remember the names of all your little bits of muslin? They change almost daily. Why do you ask? Is some young lady importuning you? Oh, you haven’t landed yourself in a coil, have you?’

  ‘No, certainly not. Credit me with a little discretion, I beg you. And do you suppose I would forget the name of any lady with whom I choose to spend my time?’

  James Dersingham, fifth Duke of Belfont, was neither old nor married. Yet. But when a Duke is single and very wealthy, he is bound to attract the attention of mamas with marriageable daughters; if he is also young and handsome, those same mamas will eagerly fall over themselves to make sure their daughters are noticed. He would have to be made of stone not to be flattered. This particular Duke had a string of hopeful would-be brides hanging on his every word and gesture, and it mattered not one jot that he had the reputation of being something of a rake. Money and an elevated position in society would more than compensate for that. But he was becoming very bored with it all.

  ‘Then why did you ask?’

  ‘This Sophia Langford claims to be kin. And you may be right about her importuning. I have a letter here in which she says her mother died two years ago and now her father has died too and left her without support. She is lodging with a friend of her mother’s in Naples, but she cannot continue to impose on her good will. I gather she thinks I should make myself responsible for her.’

 
‘Langford,’ Harriet said thoughtfully. ‘Didn’t Papa have a niece who married a Langford?’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yes, now I come to think of it, he did. Do you remember Uncle Robert? He was Papa’s older brother and would have inherited if he had not died so young. He had a daughter, Louise—I think it was Louise—who married Lord Langford. He was a gambler and a wastrel and the family refused to acknowledge him. I think he ruined them and they went to live abroad.’

  Lady Harriet Harley, at thirty-six, was two years older than her brother and, since the death of their mother when they were both young, had been his mentor and confidante, which continued even after her marriage to Sir Granville Harley. Their father, the fourth Duke, had died the year before and James had inherited a vast fortune, several properties and the responsibility that went with them, much sooner than he had expected to; he was finding it hard work. It was doubly so at this time because he was on the Regent’s staff, one of those responsible for his security, and, what with the celebrations attached to the victory over Napoleon and his Highness’s unpopularity, he was expected to be everywhere at once. The last thing he wanted was the added responsibility of a child. ‘That accounts for the letter coming from Italy. But what can I do about it? I am a bachelor. I don’t know anything about children…’

  Harriet tilted her head on one side and smiled half-mockingly at her brother. ‘If you found yourself a wife, you might soon learn…’

  He gave a bark of a laugh. Harriet was always urging him to settle down and marry, but he had never yet met a woman who came anywhere near his exacting standards. Either they were too young and foolish, too serious and stiff-rumped or too old and ugly. Besides, he was too busy and, when he wasn’t busy, was amusing himself with young ladybirds who had no ambition to be duchesses, which relieved him of the problem of having to think about it. ‘That has nothing to do with this.’ He tapped the letter in his hand. ‘I can’t have her here. And how can I be sure she is who she says she is? She might be an impostor.’

  ‘I have no doubt we could soon establish her credentials with a few pertinent questions.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Of course we. As you so correctly pointed out, you are a bachelor. I could not leave the matter to you, could I? You would frighten the poor thing to death. And, I confess, I am curious. When is she arriving?’

  Her referred again to the letter. ‘She doesn’t say, which only goes to prove how empty-headed she is. Does she suppose I will sit at home and wait for her arrival?’

  ‘No doubt she is waiting for you to reply and invite her to stay.’

  ‘And you think I should?’

  ‘James, she has lost her parents. She is alone and probably very frightened. You would give a stray puppy a home under such circumstances, so why not a child? Why, Dersingham Park is so big, you would not even notice she was there.’

  This was true, but he was still reluctant. He could foresee all manner of problems. What did a girl brought up in Italy know of English life? Was he expected to provide her with a maid, a companion, a school mistress and a school room to put her in? Would he have to entertain her? Did she know how to behave in polite society? And, in the fullness of time, would he have to give her a come-out and a dowry? It was all beyond him. It was not the cost—he could bear that and not even notice it—it was the responsibility. Oh, he knew he would have to put his mind to such things when he married and had children of his own, but other people’s? Besides, he had no intention of marrying until he was good and ready, and a little waif was not going to make him change his mind about that, whatever Harriet said.

  On the other hand, if she really was a relation and in dire straits… James Dersingham, fifth Duke of Belfont, man of the world, reputed rake and steadfastly single, had a compassionate heart and could readily imagine what it must be like to be alone and unprotected. He smiled at his sister; it was a smile that transformed his rather austere countenance. His grey-blue eyes twinkled and his firm mouth curved into a smile, so that his whole face lightened. ‘Very well, but you write to her. It would be much better coming from you.’ Which was a statement with which she heartily agreed. ‘Besides, I must go. His Highness has taken it into his head to meet the King of France at Dover and I have been given the task of organising the coaches and outriders. He is not content but that we must have a triumphal procession.’

  Having left the problem of Sophia Langford in the capable hands of his sister, he went on his way, prepared to forget all about the little waif. It would take weeks for the exchange of letters and even more before the child arrived; by then, perhaps the frenzy that had seized the populace over winning the war might have died down and he could give her the attention she deserved. By the time he arrived at Carlton House, the Regent’s residence, he was once more the urbane and efficient equerry, who appeared to have no other life than pleasing his sovereign.

  In spite of being several hours behind the royal vessel, The Sea Maid was obliged to ride at anchor outside Dover harbour while the King and his retinue disembarked, which did nothing to calm Sophie’s mounting nervousness. The first sight of the cliffs of her homeland had had a strange effect on her, which was totally unexpected. It was almost twelve years since she had left it, a nine-year-old child, looking forward to the adventure, unafraid because she had two loving parents to take care of her. She had no idea she would not set foot on English soil again for so many long years in which she would live through a savage war, lose both her parents and grow up all too quickly. Deep inside her, she felt a stirring of a strange emotion, a feeling of coming home, as though the place, if not the people, welcomed her. It made her impatient and she paced the deck, unable to stand still.

  ‘Ah, we are on the way again,’ Lord Myers said as the rattle of the anchor being wound up came to their ears. ‘It should not be long now and we will be on terra firma again.’

  ‘Lady Myers will be much relieved,’ Sophie said, for her friend had been confined below decks with mal de mer for the whole of the eight-hour crossing.

  Sailors swarmed along the spars and the sails filled and gradually they inched their way into the quayside beside the royal vessel and came to a stop. Sophie went below to help Lady Myers on deck, while his Lordship spoke briefly to the captain about the unloading of their baggage. Half an hour later they were standing on the quay looking about them. The area was thronged with people, far more than any of them had foreseen. Besides seafaring men and the populace of the town, there was a company of Horse Guards in magnificent uniforms and civilian gentlemen on horseback dressed lavishly, their riding hats decorated with white cockades. ‘In honour of the Bourbons,’ Lord Myers said.

  It seemed to be organised chaos, for in the middle of it all were several carriages, one of which bore the arms of the Regent. Of that gentleman there was no sign, nor of the King of France, but there was a man standing by the last coach, directing affairs. Sophie found herself surreptitiously watching him. In the face of all the confusion, he seemed calm. He was not in uniform, but in a magnificent riding coat of blue cloth that fitted his figure so closely she was able to make out the bulging muscles of his shoulders and arms beneath it. He wore soft doeskin breeches and boots that would have done duty for mirrors, a pale blue waistcoat and a pristine white cravat. His hair, beneath his tall riding hat, was fair and curled into his neck. Her heart gave a wild leap as he looked towards her, but the glance was only momentary before he turned away to speak to one of the uniformed officers, almost as if she were invisible. Perhaps she was. She felt suddenly forlorn and dowdy in her brown cloak and straw bonnet with its black ribbons.

  ‘I suppose they have come to meet the King,’ Lady Myers said. ‘And we shall be left to lag behind as we were before.’

  ‘It certainly looks like it, ‘her husband agreed. ‘I am come to think that it was not a good idea to attach ourselves to his entourage. I am very sorry to have suggested it, my love.’

  ‘Let us go into the hotel and have some refreshment,�
� she said. ‘Perhaps by the time we are rested the crowd will have dispersed and we can continue our journey in peace.’

  Lord Myers led the way, but they were stopped from entering by the same gentleman Sophie had noticed earlier, who had evidently seen their intent and hurried to intercept them. ‘I am sorry, sir, ladies,’ he said politely but firmly. ‘But you cannot enter, not until his Royal Highness and the King leave.’

  ‘Why not?’ Sophie demanded. ‘It is an inn, is it not, and bound by law to provide refreshment?’

  He turned towards her. The brown cloak and the plain bonnet did not indicate a young lady of substance; she was probably the older lady’s companion, someone who was supposed to melt into the background, a shadow of her employer, but the sharp rejoinder and the bright eyes told him she did not enjoy her role. Those eyes were blazing defiance, but at the same time there was in their brown depths a hint of doubt. She was sure of her facts, but not of her position. It made her seem vulnerable. On the other hand, he could not allow her to dictate to him. His job was to protect his royal employer and he would be failing in his duty to allow anyone to cross the threshold. Assassins—those who wished the Regent ill, and there were many—could be female as well as male.

  ‘Indeed, miss, but the needs of his Highness must be met first.’

  ‘Then where are we to go?’ Lady Myers put in before Sophie could make matters worse by insisting on entering. ‘We have come off the packet and need refreshment before continuing our journey.’

  ‘Then let me direct you to the garden at the rear. There are tables and chairs there. I will ask Captain Summers to request the landlord to bring you cushions and refreshments. I am sorry I must deny myself the pleasure of conducting you myself, but my duties do not allow me to leave the escort.’ He turned and beckoned to a young officer and spoke briefly to him before bowing and returning to the carriage, just as two very fat gentlemen waddled out of the inn and made for the Prince’s coach.