The Unwanted Wedding

CHAPTER ONE 1845-1

CHAPTER ONE

1845The candles in the drawing room of Buckingham Palace did not glitter any more brightly than the diamonds worn by the ladies who were dancing.

With their tiaras, necklaces, bracelets and earrings they were a dazzling sight as they whirled round to the strains of a Viennese waltz.

The Queen Victoria, despite the fact that she had had three children, was dancing energetically with a radiant look in her eyes that proclaimed her happiness.

Since her marriage she had not been able to indulge her love of dancing as much as she had before the staid, solemn and pompous Prince Albert captured her heart.

But tonight even he seemed to be affected by the gaiety of the music, which at times the chatter of the guests made it hard to hear.

Only one man seemed to look somewhat bored and cynical at the rotating throng and inevitably the eye of almost every woman in the room kept returning to him.

The Duke of Tynemouth was not only so tall it was impossible to overlook him in a crowd but he was also extremely handsome and had an irresistible attraction that resulted in his leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever he went.

Tonight wearing the blue Order of the Garter across his chest and innumerable decorations, several of which were for outstanding gallantry, he certainly looked like a Prince if not a King as he performed his duties as Lord-in-Waiting to Her Majesty.

It was known that the Queen had a penchant for handsome men.

Just as at the time of her accession she had undoubtedly been infatuated with the handsome alluring Lord Melbourne, it was thought by the gossips that, despite her devotion to Prince Albert, she liked having the Duke constantly in attendance.

Tonight she even danced with him, which was a favour that did not pass unnoticed by the other Courtiers, although most of them were well aware that it was a doubtful pleasure where the Duke was concerned.

He disliked dancing and the ladies who sought to captivate his vacillating affections could seldom persuade him to take the floor with them.

Now as the dance finished he moved to a corner of the ballroom where he started talking to one of the Generals who was as usual complaining eloquently and at some length about the cuts in Army expenditure.

It was therefore quite a relief when he saw the Countess of Langstone coming towards them.

One of the most beautiful women in England, she had excelled her own reputation tonight by looking, the Duke thought, even lovelier than she usually did.

Her gown with its full skirt revealed her eighteen-inch waist and her lace bertha embroidered with diamanté was almost exaggeratedly low to show the perfection of her white shoulders.

To make certain they were noticed, her necklace of enormous emeralds seemed to sparkle as mysteriously and alluringly as her eyes.

As she stopped beside him, the Duke remembered how he had told her a few nights ago that she was like a tiger in the dark and he thought it was a very apt simile for the fieriness of their lovemaking and the manner in which the Countess had hunted him.

He had avoided her for some time but not because he did not admire her. It was indeed impossible not to be aware that there was something magnetic about her, but he had no wish to become too involved with the wife of a man he met continually and at the moment almost every day at Buckingham Palace.

The Earl of Langstone was Lord Steward and, although the Duke found him somewhat of a bore and almost as dictatorial as Prince Albert, he had no wish to antagonise him.

But once the Countess had set her sights on a man she desired, it was difficult for him to avoid her and because she was so persistent the Duke had eventually succumbed.

He certainly had, at present, no regrets, but he impressed upon Aline Langstone that they must be extremely circumspect.

He was well aware that with his reputation and her beauty it would be impossible for the gossips not to watch them like hawks.

“For goodness sake, Aline,” he had said to her last week, “do not speak to me except as distantly as possible when we are in public. Those gossiping women miss nothing!”

“I know that,” Aline Langstone had answered petulantly. “They hate me, but, if they do suspect that we mean anything to each other, I am not responsible.”

“Whosever the fault may be,” the Duke said, “the result will be the same – they will somehow contrive to enlighten the Queen and you know what she will feel about it.”

“I know only too well!” Aline said sharply. “And George can be very jealous at times.”

The Duke thought, as he had thought before, that it was a great mistake to have become involved with the Countess of Langstone. But now it was too late. He could not pull back and, if he was truthful, he had no wish to do so.

He had never known a woman who was so insatiable and at the same time contrived to be alluring on each occasion in a thousand different ways.

He was amused and aroused and found himself beguiled by a new Circe when he had thought cynically that no woman was different from any other.

If he was intrigued with Aline Langstone, she was falling, to her own consternation, head-over-heels in love with him.

Never had she known such an ardent lover and, as she had quite a considerable experience, this was a very sincere compliment to pay him.

Actually it was one the Duke had come to expect and he often thought that other men must be extremely insensitive or perhaps very selfish that their wives never seemed before he met them to have any knowledge or appreciation of the art of love.

While he was not introspective about himself as a rule, he thought it was perhaps because he gave the same thought to the women in his life that he gave to his horses.

He would never ride a horse without knowing everything about it from its breeding to the personal preferences, dislikes and tricks that every animal had.

With women it was basically the same and, while he amused himself because each one was an individual, he took the trouble to find out what aroused her, made her happy and gave her the greatest satisfaction.

“I love you! I love you!” women had said to him a million times.

He knew that if they had not said so, he would have felt that he had failed them.

Now he thought with a slight frown that it was indiscreet of Aline to speak to him at this moment in full view of everybody else in the ballroom.

She appeared indeed to be listening to the General, but he was aware that she was palpitatingly conscious of him standing beside her as he was of her.

Then at last, like an Angel of Deliverance, an elderly lady came up to attract the General’s attention.

“Sir Alexander, I have been looking for you,” she said reproachfully. “You promised to take me down to supper and, if we do not go now, we may find it difficult to find a place.”

“I can only apologise, my dear lady, if I have kept you waiting,” the General replied gallantly.

He offered her his arm and, as they moved away, the Countess turned quickly towards the Duke.

“I have to see you, Ulric.”

He was about to tell her not to be so indiscreet when something urgent in her voice made him ask,

“What is wrong?”

“I cannot tell you here, but come to tea tomorrow afternoon. I promise it is very important.”

Now the Duke was definitely frowning.

He had made it a rule never to go to the Earl’s house when he was in London and it was in fact a rule he had made with all the women he became involved with.

It had saved him from a great deal of unpleasantness because invariably servants acted as spies for their master.

“I think it unwise,” he said in a low voice.

“It is the only way we can meet and I must see you! I have something to tell you that vitally concerns yourself.”

The Duke looked at her in surprise.

Then, as if she felt that he had agreed to what she asked, she turned away to greet several friends who were just entering the ballroom.

For a moment the Duke wondered irritably what she had to tell him and why she had to be so dramatic about it.

Then he thought that the best thing he could do was not to go to the Langstones’ house in Grosvenor Square and hope that what was so important for him to know could wait for another time.

He was aware, as the Countess was, that they would meet in a house party at the weekend and knew that if they were clever it would be possible for them to find moments when they could talk without being overheard and he could kiss her without being observed.

The Duke was quite used to women finding it impossible to wait even for a few days to see him, to be close to him and for him to make love to them.

“How can I live another week without seeing you?” was a plaintive question to which he could often find no answer.

But because Aline had in fact, been more or less circumspect in every way until now, he thought, as he walked to another part of the ballroom, that perhaps what she had to say to him really was of importance.

He, however, remembered cynically how many times ‘something of vital importance’ to a woman had been nothing but the aching desire to be in his arms and to feel his lips on hers.

Attractive though he found the beautiful Countess of Langstone, the Duke had no intention of causing an unnecessary scandal where she was concerned.

The Queen expected a very high standard of morality amongst those who served her in The Palace.

The Duke often thought dryly that he had been born in the wrong period and would have found life far easier under Her Majesty’s uncle, George IV.

Then indiscretions were habitual at The Palace and anybody who appeared too discreet was looked at in surprise.

The Queen, however, had been exceedingly censorious of anything approaching immorality when she came to the throne as a young and innocent girl.

Now Prince Albert with his strict German conformity and Lutheran conscience had made things even more difficult for attractive men like the Duke than they had been.

“Dammit all!” one of the Duke’s friends had said to him. “We might as well enter a Monastery and have done!”

“I hardly think that would solve any of your problems, Charles,” the Duke had replied mockingly.

“At least I should not have Prince Albert breathing down my neck and pontificating about the immorality of the country in a way that tells me all too clearly that he was really getting at me.”

“Perhaps you are oversensitive,” the Duke had suggested.

“Nonsense!” his friend replied. “You know as well as I do that Germans are extremely intolerant of any human frailty and the Prince is no exception.”

The Duke knew this was more or less true.

The Prince was a true Coburger at heart. He might be shy and at times ill at ease, but he always behaved with a rigid dignity.

He had many good qualities, but he lacked a sense of humour and, because he was over-serious and very respectable the easy-going aristocrats, who often found their position at Court a bore, disliked him.

Looking round the ballroom the Duke thought that with the beauty of the women and the elegance of the men who wore their clothes and their decorations in an unselfconscious manner, it was England at its best.

Yet he could, because he was extremely intelligent, understand why the Prince could not feel himself a part of it.

He also imparted his feelings to those near him so that it was he who always seemed the outsider in the Trather than the guests he was entertaining.

Quite suddenly the Duke wanted to yawn and go home.

Enough was enough and, although for a short while he could find the Royal presence quite enjoyable, he knew that there were always restrictions behind the laughter.