The Devilish Deception

chapter one 1886-1

chapter one 1886The Duke of Invercaron found it impossible to sleep.

He turned over in bed and told himself that it was ridiculous and the sooner he fell into unconsciousness the better.

Then, almost as if a voice was telling him so, he knew that the reason for his sleeplessness was that there was something wrong.

It was, however, extremely irritating that he had no idea what it was or why it should affect him to the extent of being unable to sleep peacefully as he usually did after a long day.

It had, in fact, been a very long day and one that he had known from the moment he rose that morning would be if not positively disagreeable at least somewhat embarrassing.

But he had told himself firmly it was something that had to be done almost as if in obedience to a Regimental order concerning which there could be no argument.

When he had embarked on his way home from India two months ago, he had felt, as he left the steaming heat of Calcutta, as if he was setting off on a voyage that was so strange and so unexpected that he could not visualise what would happen at the end of it.

When he had opened the telegram informing him of his uncle’s death and that he had now inherited his title, Talbot McCaron, as he was then, thought at first that it was a joke.

It flashed through his mind that his brother Officers, who were always up to some prank or another, were pulling his leg.

Then, as he read slowly and carefully the letter that had been waiting for him when he returned from a campaign on the Northwest Frontier, which had been extremely hazardous, he knew it was the truth that he was now the Third Duke of Invercaron.

After that everything seemed to happen so quickly that he had hardly time to catch his breath.

He had, of course, been given leave of absence by his Colonel, although they had both known that it was only a question of time before he must resign his Commission and leave the Regiment to take up the duties that awaited him in Scotland as Chieftain of the Clan McCaron.

“We shall miss you,” the Colonel had said sincerely, “and, although it is best left unsaid, I know that the ‘Powers that Be’ are extremely grateful for the way in which you have been able to help them over matters we are unable to discuss at the moment.”

“I shall miss you too,” Talbot McCaron admitted reflectively.

“I know you will, my boy,” the Colonel had said sympathetically. “At the same time it is only right that you should now marry and settle down, for no wife would want her husband deliberately walking into danger as you have been doing these last few years.”

The two men smiled at each other knowing that what they were referring to was so secret that it would be a mistake to elaborate on it even to each other.

With the good wishes of his fellow Officers ringing in his ears, the new Duke had set off for Calcutta, where the Viceroy had summoned him.

What he minded more than anything else was saying goodbye to his Sepoys with whom he had fought side by side in dozens of skirmishes, when they had all known that it was only thanks to good luck and good judgement on the part of their Officer that they had come through more or less unscathed.

Every time Talbot McCaron lost one of his men he felt the pain of it as if he was losing a limb and, when he was finally steaming up the Red Sea, he told himself that no Scottish Clansman could have given him more loyalty and devotion than the Indians who had served under him.

He had been surprised when he reached London to find how many people wished to see him.

The last time he had been home on leave he had spent two weeks of it enjoying the theatres, the balls and the parties at which an extra man was always welcome.

He had, however, refused a great number of invitations because if he was looking for social life there was always plenty of it in the hill stations in India.

Instead he had spent more money than he could really afford in taking one or two beautiful Gaiety Girls out to supper and found them alluring and very amusing in a different way from the amusement that was always waiting for a handsome young bachelor in India.

But now that he was the Duke of Invercaron everything was very different.

To begin with, his first appointment was with the Secretary of State for Scotland, the Marquis of Lothian, who had talked to him very seriously about his plans.

“I am afraid,” he said, “you will find that your uncle, being so ill for the last years of his life, let everything become rather lax. When I was last in the neighbourhood, I visited him at The Castle and it was obvious that both your future home and the crofts on the estate needed a great deal of money spent on them.”

The Duke looked at him apprehensively.

“Money, my Lord?” he repeated. “I have already been warned that it is in singularly short supply.”

“I am aware of that,” the Marquis answered.

The Duke’s lips twitched and he asked somewhat cynically,

“Have you any suggestions, my Lord, as to how I can acquire a commodity so desirable in what I know of old is a very beautiful but unprofitable part of Scotland?”

The Marquis had laughed.

“You express it well and I can only agree that I know of no place more beautiful than the Strath in which the McCarons have lived for centuries, but only a miracle could make it yield a profit.”

“That is what I was thinking on my way here from India,” the Duke said. “Quite frankly I am considering shutting up The Castle in order to live more economically and trying to establish some industry that would provide at least a living wage for some of our younger men.”

The Marquis looked at him in astonishment.

“Shut up The Castle?” he exclaimed. “I never thought I would hear a McCaron suggest that!”

“It would at least be a practical move,” the Duke said defensively.

The Marquis sat back in his chair and looked at the Duke as if he was some unheard of phenomenon whom he had encountered by sheer chance.

Then he said almost angrily,

“It is impossible, utterly impossible, for you to do such a thing! Your Castle has been the rallying point for the McCarons for centuries! I know that those of them who have travelled to all parts of the world and live almost in exile in other countries would, if it was no longer there, feel as if they had been deprived of something very precious.”

“I know that,” the Duke agreed, “but, while with three lives between me and the Dukedom I never imagined I would ever become the Chieftain, I frequently thought over the problem of what it entailed and when my father was alive we often discussed it.”

There was silence for a moment as both the Secretary of State for Scotland and the Duke were thinking of how his uncle’s eldest son had been killed fighting in Egypt and his second son had been drowned in a storm at sea, which had smashed his fishing boat on a rocky coast and there had been no survivors.

Then the Marquis said in a different tone of voice,

“There is something I am going to suggest to you, although I expect that somebody has already done so the moment you set foot in England.”

“Actually when I arrived home late last night,” the Duke replied, “I found a great many messages and letters waiting for me, but I thought it polite to call on you first.”

The Marquis smiled.

“I am gratified. At the same time I find it rather uncomfortable to say what should more suitably be said to you by one of the older members of your Clan.”

The Duke looked apprehensive.

“Now you are making me realise,” he said after a moment, “why Sir Iain McCaron of that Ilk has left no fewer than half a dozen messages saying that he wishes to see me immediately on my arrival!”

He spoke somewhat ruefully and the Marquis gave a short laugh.

“Sir Iain will doubtless be long-winded about it,” he said, “but I can tell you quite simply – it is that you should marry!”

The Duke stiffened and stared at the Marquis as if he could not have heard him aright.

“Marry?” he ejaculated. “That, my Lord, is indeed something I did not expect you to say! If I cannot afford The Castle, I certainly cannot afford to take a wife!”

“That surely depends on the wife,” the Marquis replied. “The lady who is being considered as most suitable to be your Duchess is – ”

Before he could go any further, the Duke interrupted sharply, saying,

“Considered to be my wife? Who has considered this? And why should anyone interfere with what I have always thought was something very private and personal?”

He drew in his breath before he continued.

“I certainly need nobody, and I mean nobody, to choose my wife for me or to interfere in any way in a matter that I consider concerns me and me alone!”

The Duke had not raised his voice, but he spoke with a touch of steel that those who had been under his command would have recognised as indicating that he was extremely angry.

The Marquis, however, seemed quite unabashed.

He merely said in a conciliatory voice,

“I can understand your feelings, my dear fellow, but you must be aware as a Scottish Chieftain that your people, to whom you are not only a leader but father, shepherd and protector, are more important than personal prejudices or, in this case, your somewhat sensitive feelings.”

Now there was a definite scowl on the Duke’s handsome face before he retorted,

“I would like to know, my Lord, exactly what you are suggesting before we become any further involved.”

“That is what I wish too,” the Marquis said, “and I can only ask you to hear what I have to say without being too prejudiced.”

His considerate tone made the Duke feel that he had been somewhat hasty.

Equally he told himself that, if the Secretary of State thought that he was going to manipulate him into marriage, he was very much mistaken.

There had, of course, over the years been a number of women who had tried by every means in their power to entice him up the aisle.

He had carefully avoided the young girls who came out to India in order to get married and he spent his time either with married women whose husbands were toiling away in the heat of the plains, or else with widows who were usually too sensible to want to marry a penniless Captain or, as he became later, a Major, however attractive he might be.

Even so, once they were involved, their caution and their principles flew out of the window and with their arms around his neck they would beg him to marry them.

“We will manage,” they would say. “I know we will manage! I have a little money of my own and we will be so happy, darling, that nothing else will be of any significance.”

He had, however, been wise enough to avoid the adoring eyes that filled so quickly with tears and the quivering lips, which sought his even before he was ready for them.

He had known that however attractive and alluring they might be, the Regiment, the men who served with him and his secret exploits known only to the very highest of his superiors were more exciting, more intriguing than any woman could be – that was to say, considered on a permanent basis.

He had since then made up his mind never to marry unless by some miracle he could afford it and that meant never.

In India the average Officer found it hard enough to pay his Mess bills let alone embark on providing for a wife and children.

He knew that in his new position in Scotland he would have to take on the responsibilities of his Clan and what he suspected would be a large number of outstanding debts, but it had never crossed his mind on the voyage home that he would also be saddled with the extravagance of a young woman, who would be inhuman if she did not occasionally want a new gown.