Saved By A Saint

CHAPTER ONE 1819-1

CHAPTER ONE

1819The Marquis of Melverley left London in a bad temper.

He had not intended to go to the country, until after he had seen Lady Bray.

It had been an uncomfortable altercation, which had left the Marquis seething with rage.

Lady Bray was one of the most famous beauties of the year and the toast of St. James’s.

She had bestowed her favours on quite a number of men before she met the Marquis.

He, however, swept her off her feet and their affaire de coeur was the talk of the Beau Monde.

Everything was going smoothly, or was, the Marquis thought, until Lord Bray returned from the country.

It was then he told his wife that he was taking her away from London.

Lady Bray was horrified.

She was at the height of her success. She was asked to every party and was convinced in her own mind that the Prince Regent could not give a successful dinner at Carlton House unless she was present.

She pleaded with her husband, but he was adamant.

“You are being talked about,” he thundered. “I will not have my good name dragged through the mud!”

When Daisy Bray broke the news to the Marquis, he was astonished.

It was more or less accepted that, when a man had been married for some years and his wife had produced an heir to the title, he closed his eyes if she indulged in flirtations, or something deeper, with other men.

Lord Bray was, however, a very proud man.

When one of his sisters told him what was being said in Mayfair, he came to London.

“Nothing I can say will alter his decision that we leave for the country on Friday,” Daisy said tearfully to the Marquis.

“But I cannot lose you,” he protested. “How can you possibly give up all the parties and balls you have promised to attend – and of course – me?”

“I mind that more than anything,” Daisy said in a soft voice, putting a hand on his arm, “but it's no use. When Arthur makes up his mind, as he has now, I have to obey him.”

Lord Bray’s decision clearly upset the Marquis.

But he had gone for consolation to the house in Chelsea where he had established his mistress.

She was one of the loveliest ballerinas appearing at Drury Lane.

Letty Lesse was an exceptional dancer and exceptional in anything else she undertook.

This included capturing the hearts of the innumerable men who pursued her.

She was, however, thrilled when the Marquis turned his attention to her, as she was well aware that he was more important and certainly richer than any of her other suitors.

She accepted with alacrity that she should move from the lodgings where she was living into the attractive house in Chelsea.

It had been occupied by one beauty before her.

The Marquis became, however, quite weary of this mistress because of her tiresome habit of giggling at whatever he said. She also bit her nails.

It was considered fashionable for the bucks and beaux of St. James’s to have a ‘Cyprian’ who was exclusively their own.

That was, of course, if they could afford it and no one could afford it better than the Marquis of Melverley.

He had inherited an enormous estate when he was twenty-six.

It had been in his family for three hundred years and had been added to by every generation.

His father had been the third Marquis and he was the fourth.

He was extremely proud of his title, his blood and his position in life.

Although he was only twenty-eight, the Prince Regent had told him he was to be Lord Lieutenant of the County as soon as the appointment became available.

His Royal Highness had also indicated that there would be a position for him at Court as soon as he was crowned King.

The Marquis, needless to say, accepted all this as no more than his due.

He had shone dramatically in Wellington’s Army and received two awards for bravery.

He was well aware that, although he was so young, Statesmen listened to what he had to say.

The Prince Regent, too, consulted him on a number of the more urgent problems that beset him every day.

He had left Daisy Bray in tears at the idea that she would have to leave London without seeing him alone again.

He thought he would try to forget her attractions in the arms of Letty Lesse.

The Marquis had neglected Letty over the last three weeks.

Because Lord Bray was in the country, he had spent every evening, and most of the night, with Daisy.

He was thinking now how attractive Letty was when she danced and she knew how to make a man forget his troubles when she put her arms around his neck.

He had to go first to a dinner that was taking place at the Duke of Bedford’s house in Kensington.

He was feeling depressed and the party did nothing to revive his spirits.

Actually he decided that the ladies sitting on each side of him at dinner were bores and none of those present compared in any way with Daisy or with Letty.

The dinner dragged on and on until finally it came to an end.

Afterwards there was music and card games in which he was obliged to participate.

It was nearly midnight when he finally climbed into his carriage. It was drawn by two superb horses and he told his coachman to take him to Chelsea.

There was a faint grin, which he did not see, on his coachman’s face.

The footman gave the coachman a wink as they drove off.

“It be just like old times,” the coachman murmured beneath his breath. “Them ’orses used to know the way there all on their own!”

The footman chuckled, but what he was thinking was that it was going to be a long night and he knew that his wife would complain bitterly when he woke her up just before dawn.

It was not far to the Marquis’s house in Chelsea, which was near the famous hospital inaugurated by Nell Gwynn, the famed mistress of King Charles II.

In front of it was a square where trees had been planted and the coachman drew the horses up with a flourish outside the front door.

The Marquis climbed out.

It was understood that the footman did not ring for the maid he employed at the house as by this time she would have gone to bed.

The Marquis had his own latchkey to open the door with.

Inserting it in the lock, he was thinking that at this hour Letty would have come back from the theatre.

She would be in bed, but would be delighted to see him, especially as he had neglected her for so long and she would hold out her arms and be far too clever to reproach him in any way.

He opened the door.

As he expected, there was a light in the hall from candles in two silver sconces, which he had brought them up from his house in the country.

He had given strict orders that they were always to be kept alight because, if he arrived unexpectedly he had no wish to be fumbling about in the dark.

He closed the front door behind him and put the key in his pocket.

He took off his tall hat and he was about to put it on the chair where he usually left it.

It was then he saw that there was another hat already there.

It was the same shape as his and in fact almost identical.

He stared at it in surprise and wondered when he had left it there and gone home without it.

Suddenly he was suspicious.

He put his own hat down on a table in front of a gold-framed mirror, which had also come from his house in the country.

Deliberately quietly, he walked up the thickly carpeted stairs.

There was a small landing on the first floor with a door on either side of it.

One led into a small room that was seldom used and the other room was much larger and was where Letty slept.

The Marquis had gone to a great deal of trouble to furnish the bedroom to his own taste.

The extra-large bed had a golden corolla above it from which fell curtains that were of the finest silk.

He had excellent taste and he hated the harsh colours and tawdry decorations that were to be found in most Cyprians’ bedrooms.

If he was going to keep a mistress, then he was determined that her background should be to his taste and not hers.

Very soft colours decorated Letty’s bedroom and the expensive materials used were the envy and admiration of the other girls who danced with her.

The carpet was a fine Aubusson and the pictures on the walls were by French artists.

The furniture had come, like much of the Prince Regent’s, from the Palace at Versailles after the French Revolution.

As the Marquis reached the landing, he stood still for a moment before he reached for the handle.

It was then, as he heard Letty laughing, he was frozen into immobility.

For a moment he did not believe his ears.

Then, as the laugh was followed by a man’s deep voice, he realised that Letty was betraying him.

It was an unwritten law that, when a Cyprian was housed and kept by a protector, she was faithful to him for as long as he was generous to her and supported her financially.

The Marquis had certainly been most bountiful and Letty’s diamonds and pearls were sensational by anyone's standards.

He had somewhat neglected her these past weeks he had to admit to himself.

Yet, it had never struck him for a moment that she would take another lover.

And certainly not in his house without first ending their association.

The fact that she had done so made him extremely angry and he contemplated for a moment walking into the bedroom and telling her exactly what he thought of her.

Then he knew it was beneath his dignity to do so.

When the Marquis was angry, he never raised his voice or ranted at anyone.

Instead he became icily calm and merely spoke in a voice in which every word cut like a whiplash.

Now he turned and walked down the stairs.

Picking up his hat, he stood for a moment looking at his reflection in the gold-framed mirror.

Then deliberately, one by one, he blew out the four candles that lit the hall.

He wondered if it would alert Letty to the fact that he had been there.

At any rate, tomorrow morning she would receive a note from his secretary telling her to vacate the premises.

Then there would be no doubt in her mind as to what had happened.

Having put out the candles, he walked out of the house, closing the door quietly behind him.

The coachman and footman had settled themselves as comfortably as they could on the box, expecting a long wait.

They therefore stared in astonishment when the Marquis returned so soon.

The footman sprang down and opened the carriage door.

“Take me home!” the Marquis ordered quietly.

“Very good, my Lord,” the coachman replied.

The door was closed and the carriage started off.

As it did so, the Marquis decided that he would go to the country.

He had no wish to see Daisy again, looking at him unhappily while her husband glared and he had finished completely and absolutely with Letty.

He had a sudden longing for the quiet and beauty of Melverley Hall.

He would ride his horses over the estate knowing that it was his and his alone and no one could take it from him.

When he reached his house in Berkeley Square, he gave several sharp orders to the night footman.

He then went upstairs to his bedroom where his valet was waiting for him.

The Marquis had learned during the war against Napoleon to sleep deeply and completely when he had the chance and he could wake at whatever time he chose.

Nevertheless, he told his valet to call him at seven-thirty and he also ordered his travelling phaeton should be brought round at nine o’clock.

“I am going to the country, Yates,” he said. “Follow me in the brake with the luggage and tell the Head Chef that he is to come with us.”

“Very good, my Lord,” Yates answered.