Lovers in London (11 page)

After a moment as they were driving down Regent Street, the Marquis asked,

“What are you thinking about?”

“I was only thinking, as I did last night, how very different you are from what I expected.”

“You mean because I am an explorer and because I love horses.”

“Yes, both those things, and I am rather surprised I did not realise at once that you are not just what Papa calls ‘a man about town'.”

“I should be most insulted,” asserted the Marquis, “if anyone thought I had no other interests.”

“I don't want to be rude,” said Lanthia hesitantly, “but it is because you don't look like an explorer!”

“What do explorers look like?”

“Like pictures I have seen of Mr. Richard Burton or they have long beards and rugged faces, and of course their skin has been burned by the blazing sun until they hardly look like a white man.”

The Marquis chuckled.

“I think you must have been reading too many story books. Explorers today travel far more comfortably than in the past. Even so I have had my moments, when I have either been dripping with heat or freezing with cold.”

“That is just what I want you to tell me all about. I do wish we did not have to go to this luncheon party and make polite conversation.”

The Marquis was amused.

He could not think of any other woman who would not be in ecstatic raptures at the idea of having luncheon at Marlborough House with the Prince of Wales.

Yet he felt at once Lanthia was sincere in preferring to hear about the discomforts that everyone endured if they were exploring in an unknown part of the world.

He could remember times when he felt desperately uncomfortable and when he thought that the last moment of his life had come and he could not be saved.

Yet he had survived.

He had to acknowledge that while he relished every difficulty and danger of the unknown, he also enjoyed the comforts and luxuries with which he could indulge himself at home.

Especially when he could enjoy them with someone soft and beautiful, who could ignite in him a burning fire as the Contessa had succeeded in doing yesterday.

There was no doubt that she was a past master at exciting a man physically.

He would have been untruthful if he said he had not enjoyed every moment of the time he had spent with her and he had only himself to blame for having taken such a ridiculous risk.

He therefore harboured no wish for this pretty child beside him to suffer any further because of his stupidity.

Of course he had been idiotic not to make sure, knowing his reputation, that the Conté would not return to the hotel earlier than his wife expected. It was the sort of thing he would do, simply because he wished to catch her unawares.

The Conté might be laughed at for his jealousy, but the Marquis knew he had good reason for it.

He was obviously not the first man the Contessa had captivated with her green eyes and seductive voice.

Now having made such a fundamental mistake, the Marquis knew that he had to extract himself and, of course, Lanthia, from what could become an embarrassing disaster.

Now he had discovered who she was, the Marquis had an uncomfortable feeling that Sir Philip Grenville and his wife might insist on his saving her good name.

To put it simply, they would put pressure on him to offer her marriage.

‘She is pretty, amusing, and quite unlike any other girl I have ever met,' the Marquis thought as he drove on. ‘At the same time I refuse to be married and nothing and nobody will force me to do so!'

Lanthia was quietly observing his driving and felt that he was most definitely an expert. She knew that she would have nothing in common with any man who did not love horses and who could not manage them.

Her father had always been an outstanding rider and she herself had ridden almost as soon as she could crawl.

She was thinking that the Marquis must be a good judge of horseflesh to have chosen the pair he was driving and also to have a favourite running at Ascot.

‘He is so very good-looking,' she told herself. ‘But there is something about him which makes me feel as if there is a barrier between us.'

Then she realised what it was – it was his revulsion and fear of being married.

Although they were only pretending to be engaged, even that had made him shy away from her as a horse might do.

‘He is perfectly safe,' she told herself. ‘If he thinks that I am going to fall in love with him, he is very much mistaken!'

Last night at dinner she had not missed the number of ladies who had spoken to him in a way that told her that they found him very very attractive.

When she saw the Contessa looking at him, it was quite obvious what she felt for him and perhaps the Conté was right in thinking he had indeed made love to her.

The Contessa had been far too clever last night to attempt to speak directly to the Marquis and yet she could not prevent herself from gazing at him from time to time.

Innocently Lanthia had intercepted her glances and if the Marquis was really convinced that the Contessa had something tigerish about her, she had felt the same.

She could almost feel the Contessa reaching out to the Marquis, her hands like claws seeking to clutch him.

Lanthia thought she was definitely eerie and rather frightening and this opinion helped her to understand to some extent why the Marquis should be running away from the idea of marriage.

Any woman who became his wife would be much too possessive. She would attempt to imprison him just as he wanted to go exploring and needed to be free.

‘I understand,' she thought, ‘I do understand and I would like to tell him that he need not be afraid of me.'

She knew, however, it was something she could never say.

It was with a flourish that the Marquis drew up his horses outside Marlborough House.

The groom, who had been sitting up behind, took the reins from him and he and Lanthia stepped out.

Once again she felt she was walking into a sublime dream.

They were greeted in the entrance hall by a Scottish ghillie in Highland dress and a scarlet-coated footman with a powdered wig took the Marquis's hat and gloves.

A butler then escorted them to a sitting room where Princess Alexandra was waiting to receive them.

As she held out her hand in delight to the Marquis, she looked so beautiful that Lanthia thought,

‘I know I am dreaming. I only hope I don't wake up too soon!'

CHAPTER FIVE

Ever since she was small Lanthia had heard so much about Alexandra, the Princess of Wales.

As she became older she began to realise that Her Royal Highness was completely adored and idolised by the whole country. She was just so beautiful, pure, radiant and gracious that the public considered her their fairy Princess.

Because Lanthia had lived a very cloistered life in the country, she had no idea of what the Marquis and many others in the know understood only too well.

It was that Princess Alexandra had won for herself a popularity never previously accorded to a Royal Consort, a great deal of it being due to the fact that the Prince of Wales was known to be unfaithful.

As Lanthia swept to the floor in a deep curtsy, she thought that, as she had once read, that the Princess looked like ‘a fairy doll on top of England's Christmas Tree'.

The Prince came forward to greet her saying,

“You are now looking even prettier than last night, Miss Grenville!”

Lanthia smiled at him and the Prince introduced her to his other guests.

To her rapt surprise among them were Mr. and Mrs. William Gladstone. He had been Britain's Prime Minister until Mr. Benjamin Disraeli had superseded him.

However, Lanthia had read in the newspapers that there was every likelihood of Mr. Gladstone coming back again with the Liberals winning the next election.

A number of people thought it very strange that the Gladstones should be such close friends of the Prince and Princess of Wales as it was well known that the Queen had a strong dislike for him while he was Prime Minister.

What very few people realised was that the Princess preferred as her guests, those gentlemen who actually ‘did' something, such as politicians, churchmen and musicians.

This had meant that Sir Arthur Sullivan and Signor Tosti were very regular visitors at Marlborough House and although most of the aristocratic families adored Princess Alexandra, their interests were very different from hers.

She had confided to one of her close friends that the conversation of the British ‘upper crust' always involved killing things, such as birds and wild animals; but where she was concerned, she preferred life and happiness.

The Prince next introduced Lanthia to Mr. Oliver Montagu, who her father had often talked about.

He was the Equerry in attendance on the Princess – he was always at her side to protect and serve her in a way that many people found touching.

Among several other guests that Lanthia met was Lord Hardwicke.

The Marquis knew and decided to tell Lanthia later that, because the Prince was so fussy about his appearance, he had introduced a number of fashion innovations of his own.

One such innovation was a short navy-blue jacket, which was adopted for dinner by his whole entourage as well as all ship's Officers. When the Prince appeared wearing gloves with black stitching, all the young gentlemen in White's were quick to imitate him.

His friends all wanted to please him and so Lord Hardwicke had inspired his hat-maker to produce what the Marlborough House set acclaimed as a ‘perfect topper.'

As the guests eventually sat down to luncheon, Lanthia felt everything was so informal that it was difficult to believe she was actually in the Royal Household.

The Marquis, although Lanthia had no idea he was doing so, was watching her carefully.

It was not only to see that she did nothing wrong, but he was really wondering what would be her reaction at finding herself sitting down to a meal with the Prince and Princess of Wales.

Princess Alexandra had indeed managed to capture the hearts of the British people when, despite her beauty, all the odds might have been against it.

Queen Victoria had been only too well aware from the example of the behaviour of her uncle, King William IV, that her family were extremely hot-blooded.

She had been faced with the problem of finding a suitable wife for her eldest son, who would surely inherit this characteristic.

The Court was astounded when she selected a little known Danish Princess, a choice that from a political point of view was extremely embarrassing.

But Alexandra was, however, undoubtedly the most beautiful Princess in the whole of Europe and at eighteen she became the perfect wife for a somewhat over-vigorous young man of twenty.

That the Prince at once fell madly in love with her was a justification of his mother's choice.

Yet there was no doubt that the Queen thoroughly disapproved of many of their friends, their parties and the manner in which they lived.

On one occasion she commented with disapproval that Alexandra had all her five children in the room when she was writing letters and no nurse in attendance. In fact she and the Prince allowed their children to climb over and around them like puppies.

The Princess went even further. When she could, she would go to the nursery, put on a flannel apron and bathe the children herself. Then she would rock them to sleep in their little beds.

It was all a question of being young, energetic and living life to the full.

Yet what no one could understand, as the Marquis knew only too well, was that when the public realised the Prince was being unfaithful, Alexandra never complained nor appeared to be in any way upset by him.

Whether she was or was not in private, no one ever knew.

It was Oliver Montagu who kept her from being talked about and he made sure that she could not be harmed by any gossip leaking from their home.

Looking closely at the Princess across the table, the Marquis could see that naturally she had changed during the seventeen years of her marriage.

Yet Alexandra was surely still incredibly beautiful, but she was obviously no longer as mobile as the young bride of 1863.

Rheumatic fever had left her with a stiff knee and this prevented her from skating on the Sandringham ponds or dancing in the ballroom.

But she was still graceful and still had a radiant smile that seemed to welcome everyone.

And she was apparently still extremely happy with her husband.

The Prince always treated her with the greatest kindness and respect, and even his closest friends had never heard him complain at her frequent unpunctuality.

The Marquis knew, because he was so often with the Prince, that he was always watchful to see that every respect was shown to his wife.

He had been a guest when the Duchess of Marlborough, attending a dinner in their honour, had worn a diamond crescent instead of the traditional tiara.

The Prince of Wales had looked disapprovingly at her and then said,

“The Princess has taken the trouble to wear a tiara. Why have you not done so?”

The Duchess had been embarrassed and needless to say the story had flown round the town, but the Marquis had thought the Prince was definitely in the right.

It had been a special honour at this luncheon party that Lanthia should be seated on the Prince's left with Mrs. Gladstone on his right.

Watching them across the table, the Marquis saw Lanthia chatting away in her usual enthusiastic manner.

She was making the Prince laugh and he wondered how many young girls of her age would have been so self-composed.

Then he considered that maybe Princess Alexandra had been the same when she had first arrived in England to marry an unknown Prince whom she had never met.

She must have been a vision of loveliness just as, he considered, Lanthia was now.

It struck him that in many ways the two women resembled each other. They each had large blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face and their hair was like gold.