The Unbroken Dream

CHAPTER ONE 1832-1

CHAPTER ONE 1832Lady Sybil gave a shrill scream.

“What do you mean by ‘goodbye’?” she cried.

As she spoke, she sat up in bed.

She was naked except for a necklace of emeralds that matched the green of her eyes.

The Duke could see her reflection quite clearly in the mirror over the marble mantelpiece where he was tying his stock.

Without turning round he said,

“Somerset is dying and I want to be Master of the Horse.”

“That need not affect us,” Lady Sybil protested.

The Duke stared at her.

He was an extremely handsome man.

He was fully dressed except for his jacket and no man could have looked more distinguished and at the same time so attractive.

“It’s no use, Sybil,” he said quietly. “You know that Queen Adelaide has set her heart on having a high standard of morality at Court after the excesses of the last reign.”

Lady Sybil Mersham knew this quite well.

She then said in a plaintive tone that men always found irresistible,

“How can I ever lose you? How can I give you up, Rory?”

The Duke picked up his jacket that he had thrown down on a chair.

“I am very grateful, Sybil, for all the happiness we have had together,” he said. “At the same time you are by your family tradition a Lady-of-the-Bedchamber and, at the slightest suspicion of a scandal, the Queen would dispense with your services.”

Lady Sybil did not speak.

She knew even better than he did how persistent Queen Adelaide was that there should be no scandal about anyone in attendance on her.

“I know it’s hard for us both,” the Duke went on. “But equally even the King himself has had to give up Mrs. Jordan.”

“You can hardly compare me,” Lady Sybil retorted forcefully, “with an actress.”

“I am not comparing you,” the Duke protested. “I am merely saying that King William had to give her up. After all she has presented him with ten children.”

“That is a very different matter!” Lady Sybil said. “But how can I bear to go through life without you? I love you, Rory! I love you! It will be agony to be without you.”

The Duke had heard all this before.

He had known only too well that there would be tears and endless recriminations.

At the same time he was determined to be Master of the Horse, a position that he had craved for some years.

He was quite certain that there was no one who could fill it better than he.

He glanced at the windows, thinking that he should be leaving.

It was now late in the afternoon.

Although there was no likelihood of Lord Mersham returning from the Racecourse until much later, it would be a mistake at this juncture to take any chances.

He pulled the lapels of his jacket into position and said,

“You are very beautiful, Sybil. And I shall always remember you as you are now.”

“We have to see each other! We just have to!” Lady Sybil protested.

She held out both her arms and raised her lips in a way that the Duke was very familiar with.

He was, however, well aware that if he kissed her as she intended him to, she would pull him down on top of her.

It would then be difficult for him to escape.

With a grace that was unusual in an Englishman, he took hold of both of her hands in his and kissed them one after another.

“Thank you again, Sybil” he said softly and went towards the door.

“Wait, Rory! Wait!” Lady Sybil called out. “There is something I must say to you!”

She realised, however, that the Duke had gone and she was talking to a closed door.

Petulantly she then threw herself down against the pillows.

How could she have ever guessed, she wondered, or imagined that the Duke would say ‘goodbye’ in such an unexpected manner.

She was well aware that it was a feather in her cap that he had been attentive for so long.

His Grace the Duke of Laverdale was not only one of the most handsome but also one of the most sought after men in the whole of London Society.

The Dukedom of Laverdale was in one of the three oldest and most respected noble families in the country.

His horses were almost invariably at least placed in all the Classic races.

Lady Sybil’s husband was a good deal older than she was and, although her father’s Earldom went back for three centuries, he was in point of fact a comparatively poor man.

Many young men had extolled Lady Sybil as the most beautiful debutante of her year.

There was, however, no prospective suitor who was outstandingly rich with the exception of Lord Mersham.

She had therefore married him and, because she could spend his money entertaining extravagantly and wear some of the finest jewels and gowns in London, they were comparatively happy.

When she had first taken a lover, Lady Sybil had been rather nervous.

But it was not discovered and at least her husband had not been aware of it, so she had not hesitated to take another.

It would be true to say that she had relished the excitement and thrill of being made love to.

Her heart, however, had not really been touched until she had met the Duke of Laverdale.

The moment she saw him, she knew that she must somehow find her way into his arms.

It was not an easy conquest for the simple reason that the Duke was continually being pursued, not only by the great London beauties like herself but also by every ambitious mother in the whole of the Beau Monde.

And they all unanimously wanted their daughter to become the Duchess of Laverdale.

The only difficulty was that the Duke himself had no intention of marrying anyone.

He had said this often enough to all his friends in White’s Club and they had laughed and accused him of being blasé until one pointed out,

“You are talking nonsense, Rory, and you know it! You will have to produce an heir sooner or later to stop that poisonous cousin of yours, whom we dislike, stepping into your shoes.”

“I suppose,” another of the Duke’s friends added, “you realise that he is trying to borrow money on the fact that he is your heir presumptive.”

The Duke had already heard about this rumour and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I cannot believe that the moneylenders would be over-generous,” he said, “considering that Hubert is thirty-seven and I am ten years younger.”

“And then better people than you have had a most regrettable accident,” another friend remarked.

“I think that is most unlikely,” the Duke answered, “unless, of course, he shoots me at point-blank range and in which case he will be hanged.”

“‘Many a true word is spoken in jest’,” his friend volunteered. “I have always been convinced that half the murders attributed to highwaymen have been performed by someone who would benefit from the unfortunate victim’s death!”

“You are making our flesh creep!” another member protested. “Leave Rory alone, we like him as he is. Think how boring it would be if he retired to the country with a dull wife and a big family. We would have nothing to talk about!”

“And if I find you talking about me,” the Duke threatened, “I will knock your head off!”

At the same time he was laughing.

He disliked the idea of matrimony for the simple reason that he had never met anyone he had the slightest desire to marry.

He enjoyed himself with beautiful married women like Lady Sybil.

Yet at the back of his mind he knew that he would be shocked if his wife behaved as they did.

If he was really truthful, he despised their husbands for being so feeble in not knowing what they were up to, alternatively, if they did know about it, for turning a blind eye at their low behaviour.

But what, he asked himself, was the alternative?

To marry some unfledged young girl with whom he had nothing in common and her conversation would bore him in a week.

He had never actually talked to a debutante.

However, he was quite sure that she would giggle shyly and she would also be so incredibly dreary that the idea of being tied to her by marriage was unthinkable.

Now, as he left Lady Sybil’s house in Park Street, he found his chaise waiting for him outside.

It was where he had left it under the cool shade of a tree. He was always very careful of his horses and he was devoted to them.

His groom knew that he would never allow them to stay too long in the hot sun or wait for hours in the cold of the winter.

His Dutch chaise was an extremely smart one and was drawn by two horses and, if he intended to take it on long journeys, it could also be adapted for four.

The two horses waiting for him now were perfectly matched and even the marks on their noses were identical.

As he approached the chaise, his groom, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, jumped to the ground.

The Duke reached him and he saluted smartly and, as His Grace stepped into the chaise, he handed him the reins.

Deftly and, as the horses were already beginning to move, the groom sprang up into the seat behind.

Unlike many other people, the Duke never travelled with his groom sitting beside him. He thought it looked far smarter if the man was on the small seat at the back of the chaise.

In his case this was most especially true because his groom’s livery was exceedingly smart.

As the Duke then drove down Park Street, everyone turned round to gaze at him, the men particularly with appreciation and envy in their eyes.

The Duke felt with relief that he had dispensed with Lady Sybil without too great a scene.

He had known far worse, when the woman he was leaving had wept bitterly and even on one occasion she had gone so far as to threaten suicide.

He was quite certain that Lady Sybil would write him a great number of scented notes.

Most of them would suggest a rendezvous that she would assure him was completely and absolutely safe.

But this he had no intention of accepting.

The Duke could be very ruthless where his love affairs were concerned.

When for him they had finished, they were indeed finished! And he had no wish to discuss the matter further.

If he was honest, he had begun to find that Lady Sybil no longer excited him as she had when their liaison had started.

He acknowledged that she was beautiful, fiery and insatiable, but equally he thought that enough was enough!

He was just beginning to find her demands on him rather tiresome and also what she said and the way she said it had become repetitive.

What was important was to make quite certain that no affaire de coeur of his was known to the Queen.

Queen Adelaide was very much younger than King William IV.

She had obviously made up her mind that now he was King there should most definitely be no continuation of his very rampageous past.

There had been a good number of women in his life, but he had been faithful, more or less, to Mrs. Jordan.

She had given him ten children.

She continued to act up to the last possible minute before each child was born and was back on ‘the boards’ as quickly as possible.

If any woman, the Duke thought, had justification to cry at losing her lover, it was Mrs. Jordan.

He had meant when he left Lady Sybil, to go back to his house in Berkeley Square.

But now he thought that he would pay another visit to a small house in St. John’s Wood.

He had given it to a very pretty young ballet dancer from Drury Lane.

Because he was extremely fastidious, he had not kept a mistress, as most of his contemporaries did.

He somehow disliked the idea of paying hard cash for the favours he received from any woman.

He was actually extremely generous and no woman had ever been able to complain that he had not loaded her with gifts, especially expensive jewellery which he hung round their necks or on their ears.