Love Finds the Duke at Last

CHAPTER ONE ~ 1901-1

CHAPTER ONE ~ 1901The Duke of Lavenham walked slowly downstairs to the breakfast room.

His breakfast had been ready for him for quite some time. but he had come home very late from a party which had been extremely amusing.

Contrary to his usual rules he had stayed nearly to the end.

He then sat down at the head of the breakfast table which overlooked the garden at the back of his gracious house in Park Lane in the middle of Mayfair, the smartest district in London.

His large dining room had a view of Hyde Park, but his breakfast room which was very much smaller and not so impressive caught the early morning sunshine streaming in through the windows which he greatly appreciated.

The butler and two footmen hurried to bring in the dishes, which were cooked and ready for him. As well as the special tea from India he always drank at breakfast.

As he disliked conversation early in the morning, the servants did not speak to him and he did not speak to them.

After he had sat down at the table, he saw with a sigh that there was a large pile of private letters which his secretary had put ready for him by his place.

Anything that was a bill or of an official nature was opened by his secretary and he saw them later in the day. But his private letters were placed on the breakfast table.

He gazed at them for a short while and thought that he recognised the handwriting on at least three of them.

At the age of twenty-eight the Duke of Lavenham was at his best and exceedingly handsome.

More than one beauty had complained to him,

“It is unfair that you should be so good-looking as well as so rich and a Duke. You have too much and who can compete with you?”

The Duke had laughed heartily at the time and had then dismissed the remark with a sardonic twist of his lips and the beauty had left his side looking embarrassed.

But he often thought that he was exceedingly lucky.

His father had always been short of money until he had married an heiress and so the family fortunes had then soared upwards.

What was more, the present Duke had been left a considerable amount of money by one of his Godparents.

“You are indeed the luckiest man in the world,” several of his friends had told him and he had not disagreed with them.

In fact he was exceedingly grateful to Fate that had made him, unlike a number of his contemporaries, not have to worry continually over money and have, as he had often been told, creditors constantly knocking at their doors.

The daily newspapers were by his side at the table arranged on a silver holder, which put them exactly at the right angle for him to read them at the same time as he ate his breakfast.

There was not much news in any of them and what there was seemed rather boring and uninteresting.

He therefore pushed the newspapers to one side and finished the excellent dish of salmon kedgeree that he was eating and then stretched out his hand for the first letter.

It was from an old friend who he had taken out two nights ago, who had now left London. She wrote to say how much she had enjoyed seeing him again and thanked him for a most entertaining evening.

“You must come and stay with us as soon as you can spare the time,” she wrote. “Arthur is longing to see your new horses and I think you will be quite envious of two he has bought recently.”

She ended with some complimentary words about his appearance and several words of love which he knew were true.

He was very fond of her and, if she had not been married when they first met, he often thought that he might well have asked her to marry him.

But she was very happy with her husband and now had three charming children and the Duke was a Godfather to the youngest.

He then put the letter on one side and opened the next one. For a moment he could not guess who it was from although the handwriting was somewhat familiar.

Then when he opened it he realised that it was from his cousin, Lady Western, who he saw as little as possible.

The reason for this was because she was the biggest gossip in his family.

They all knew that if they ever told her anything, however secret it may be, it was repeated over and over again to all the rest of their relations and to her friends.

The Duke wondered why she was writing to him and he was certain that it would not be anything he wanted to hear.

At the same time it would be a mistake to quarrel with her simply because everyone in the family would be aware of it immediately.

He then gave a sigh as he took the letter out of the envelope and commenced reading it.

He was quite certain that he would be told the latest scandal about one of his relations or else be reprimanded as she invariably did, because he had ignored someone who had once been friends of his father or his mother who had come to London without, as had often happened, being entertained by him.

As if to fortify himself he drank a sip of his tea.

Then he was aware that it was not one letter he had taken from the envelope but two.

Without being curious as to why it was there, he started to read the letter from Muriel which began,

“Dearest Ivan,

My daughter, Charlotte, has received the enclosed letter this morning from her friend, Penelope Denton.

They were at school together and have been great friends ever since. In fact Penelope has often stayed here with us, although I never liked her.

Nor did I think that she was a particularly good person for Charlotte to have as a friend.

However, they have been good friends ever since and Charlotte often goes to stay with her for some festivity or another.

I am, however, shocked at the letter she received this morning and I think you should read it.

I am enclosing it for you to do so.

With fondest love,

Your affectionate cousin,

Muriel.”

The Duke was frowning when he finished reading his cousin’s letter.

Then he opened the letter tucked inside hers.

He realised that it was from someone he had been spending a great deal of his time with, who he had found exciting and amusing as well as being one of the most fêted and admired social beauties in the whole of London.

He frowned again as he read,

“Dearest Charlotte,

I have won! I have won! You will hardly believe it, but I told you I would do so.

The evasive Duke is on the verge of asking me to marry him and, of course, I will fall into his arms and say, ‘yes, yes, yes!’

You therefore owe me five pounds, as I told you I would marry a Duke and you told me that it was just impossible to capture one.

But I have done it, despite all the difficulties which we all know has made him elude so many traps and then manage to remain single and his own Master despite the allurement that has always surrounded him.

It is now only a question of time until he will say the words I want to hear and then I will march up the aisle triumphant as soon as possible just in case he changes his mind at the last moment.

It is now up to you, my dear, to capture, at the very least, a Marquis or an Earl!

But, in any case, you still owe me five pounds and I also expect a magnificent Wedding present from you.

You were always positive that I would never land a Duke as I intended to do, but I have done it and I can assure you that I will be a fantastic Duchess and my tiara, at the State Opening of Parliament, will be larger and better than anyone else’s.

Do not please tell any of my family about this until the announcement is actually in the newspapers.

I want to surprise everyone and I am exceedingly pleased with myself that, as I said to you all that time ago at school, I would marry a Duke whatever he was like and however much he tried to evade me.

As I have always got my own way, I wanted you to be the first to know that I have won my bet and, as you can imagine, I am very pleased with myself.

With so much love and please tear this letter up as soon as you have read it.

Yours

Penelope.”

As the Duke read the letter, his eyes hardened and there was an expression on his face that those who served him knew was restrained anger.

Because he was very proud of himself and his title, the Duke never raised his voice when he was angry. Nor did he when he had to reprimand a servant or someone who had offended him.

Yet they were well aware of his anger and few men or women made any attempt to retaliate.

He had in fact been on the very edge of proposing marriage to Penelope simply because she was so beautiful and her special loveliness was duly acclaimed by everyone.

Not only would their Wedding be the smartest and most spectacular Wedding of the year, but he would be the envy of all his male friends.

Yet beneath this there was something else which to him was of tremendous importance.

Ever since he had left Eton he had been pressured to marry because of his elevated social position and he was an exceedingly charming and gracious gentleman.

Equally he knew that it was his title which dazzled the young women around him like a star in the sky.

As his mother had once said to him,

“Every young woman as she grows up hopes and prays that one day a Duke or an Earl will drop down the chimney. He will be young, handsome and charming and she will love him with all her heart. Their marriage will be as happy as your father’s and mine has been.”

His mother had gone on to tell him that they had fallen in love with each other the moment they met.

He had not been a Duke then, but, of course, he was the eldest son of one.

But that did not matter.

“In some extraordinary way when he first walked into the room where I was, I just felt my heart turn a total somersault,” his mother had told him. “Your father said exactly the same thing happened to him. The moment he saw me he knew that I was the girl he had been looking for and had never found.”

If his mother had told him the story once, she had told it to him many times.

As he grew older the Duke was well aware that the invitations he received and the compliments that were paid him were really directed more to his title than to himself.

It was around then that he became suspicious of the ambitious mothers with pretty daughters who pressed him to accept their endless invitations.

The daughters themselves would he always felt fall into his arms if he just put his hand out towards them.

When his father had died and he became the Duke of Lavenham, he realised all too clearly just how much in demand he was in English Society because of his title and not particularly because of himself.

It was actually not only individuals who wanted his attention, it was Companies, Charities and organisations of every kind who craved his patronage.

It was just impossible for him not to become rather blasé and at the same time suspicious.

When women gushed at him, he was almost certain that they were thinking of his title, riches and possessions rather than himself.

He was conscious that every ambitious Dowager in the Social world wanted to hand him to their daughter as if she was on a plate.

It was then he made a vow to himself that he would never marry unless the woman he asked to do so loved him for himself.

But even as he thought about it he knew that it would be the most difficult thing in the world to find.

Yet he thought now that he had been almost trapped when he least expected it.

As Penelope was such a shining star in the Social world and had always had every man at her feet, he had thought the way she looked at him was different from what he had encountered before.