Authors: Barbara Cartland
Violet turned to look at her.
“It’s really rather pretty in its own way.”
Davita herself had always thought it very lovely.
It was made of Brussels lace and her mother had always told her that because it had come from the best shop in Edinburgh, it had caused a sensation at home in the Western Isles when she had worn it to marry Sir Iain Kilcraig.
“They had never seen anything like it, Davita,” she had said with a smile, “and neither had I. My Godmother gave it to me because she was so pleased I was marrying such a distinguished man, and when it arrived a week before my marriage, people came from all over the island to look at it!”
“You must have looked lovely on your wedding-day, Mama,” Davita had remarked.
“If I looked lovely it was not because of the gown,” her mother had answered, “but because I was so happy. I loved your father, Davita, and he was and is the most handsome man I have ever known.”
The lace had a fragility about it, and to Davita it had an almost fairy-like loveliness that made her feel like a Princess in a fairy-story.
It was the first time she had had the opportunity of wearing it, and she felt, because it revealed her neck and white shoulders, that for the first time she was really grown-up.
“I must behave as though I am,” she admonished herself, “and not allow Lord Mundesley to upset me!”
It was an easy thing to say, but when after the Show was over she followed Violet downstairs to where he was waiting at the stage-door to escort them to his carriage, she felt a quiver of fear inside her and knew it was impossible to look at him.
Lord Mundesley, however, was completely at his ease.
“Violet, you look more adorable than usual!” he said as he kissed her hand.
“Why didn’t you come round at the interval, Bertie?” Violet asked.
“I had some friends to see,” Lord Mundesley replied, “and although they wanted to meet you, I wished to keep you to myself.”
The way he spoke made Davita think he was deliberately warning her that he was ready to reassure Violet that he belonged to her if she had by any chance tried to make trouble.
She longed to tell him that she would not lower herself to do anything so unkind or spiteful, but she knew that the only dignified way to behave was to ignore what had happened, and she therefore said nothing.
As they drove away from the Theatre, Lord Mundesley made no effort to sit between them as he had the night before, but sat on the seat opposite.
Nevertheless, Davita, without even looking in his direction, was aware that his eyes were on her face and she turned deliberately to look out the window.
“Everything’s arranged, is it?” Violet asked.
“
You can be sure of that,” Lord Mundesley replied,
“and Boris thought it a huge joke, as I thought he would.”
“
You are sure that ‘You-Know-Who’ will turn up?”
“
I am sure of it. He intends to discuss the sale of a couple of horses with Boris, and they are bound to have a somewhat spirited argument over the price.”
V
iolet gave a little laugh.
“
Horses are always more irresistible than a woman!”
“
But not where I am concerned,” Lord Mundesley said with a caressing note in his voice. “You look very beautiful tonight. That gown certainly becomes you.”
“
I’m glad you like it,” Violet replied. “I bought it especially for you.”
‘
And he paid for it!’ Davita added in her mind, but told herself it was vulgar even to think such things.
S
he wished she were not going to the party. She wished almost wildly that she were back in Scotland.
T
hen she told herself with a sudden pride that she would not let Lord Mundesley’s infamy defeat or depress her.
T
his was an adventure, and only if things became too unbearable would she surrender to the inevitable and return to Scotland.
“
Davita’s wearing her mother’s wedding-dress,” Violet said unexpectedly.
Lord Mundesley gave a short laugh.
“
If there is one thing I love about you, Violet, it is your sense of humour.”
“
But it’s true!” Violet objected.
Lord Mundesley laughed again and Davita thought he was laughing at her mother, and hated him more violently than she had before.
S
he wished there was a way in which she could warn Violet that he was a man to be avoided.
“
Here we are!” Violet exclaimed a little while later. “I can’t understand how the Prince when he comes to London always manages to rent the largest and finest houses.”
“
He managed it because he can afford it,” Lord
Mundesley answered. “He is paying an enormous rent for this house which he has taken over for the Season. In fact, the Duke said the offer was so astronomical that he could not afford to refuse.”
“
Well, quite frankly,” Violet said, “I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of Uxminster House. All the Duke would be likely to offer me is the outside of his front door!”
Lord Mundesley laughed.
“That is true enough. Uxminster is a dull old fossil. No Gaiety Girls for him!”
“Well, thank goodness the Prince is different!” Violet said as the carriage-door was opened and she stepped out into a blaze of light.
Uxminster House was certainly very impressive as they walked up a red-carpeted staircase to the First Floor, and Davita was glad that she had come after all.
This was the sort of house she had always hoped she would see in London, with family portraits and tapestries on the walls, and huge crystal chandeliers sparkling in the light of hundreds of candles.
To her surprise, they were not shown by a very smartly liveried servant into a room on the First Floor which she could see through an open door was large and extremely impressive.
Instead, they were taken along a corridor and shown at the end of it into a smaller room where they were greeted by their host.
The Prince was a middle-aged Russian, distinguished, bearded, with twinkling dark eyes, and as Davita looked about her it seemed to her almost as if she were back in Romano’s again.
The room was massed with flowers, but far more glamorous than any blossoms were the guests, some of whom she recognised as having come from the Gaiety as she and Violet had.
Lottie Collins was there and several other Leading Actresses, all flashing with jewels and wearing gowns that were as spectacular as those that they had worn on stage.
As the evening wore on, Leading Ladies from other Theatres, many of whose names Davita recognised, although not their faces, arrived for the party.
Champagne was being handed round, and about twenty minutes after they had arrived they went into a Dining-Room which led off the room in which they had been received and which was arranged like a Restaurant.
There was a table in the centre, at which the Prince sat with a dozen of his guests, and in addition there were small tables for six, four, and even two. The only light was from the candles on the tables, which gave the room an air of mystery.
At the same time, there was an atmosphere of irrepressible gaiety enhanced by the music.
There were two Bands: one played dreamy, romantic waltzes; the other, a Gypsy Orchestra, wild, passionate, exciting, made the heart beat to the clash of the cymbals and the throb of the drums.
To Davita it was very exciting, and as the Prince introduced her not to one young man but to half-a-dozen, she thought what an excellent host he was, and how because she was never without a partner it was easy to keep away from Lord Mundesley.
In fact, he made no effort to talk to her either intimately or otherwise, but devoted himself to Violet, and when the dancing started he apparently had no wish to leave her for anybody else.
Supper was over before the curtains at one end of the Dining-Room were drawn back to reveal a Dance-Floor.
Those who wished to do so could continue to sit at their tables, drinking or eating, but still could get up and dance as it suited them.
To Davita’s delight, the men to whom the Prince had introduced her were only too eager to ask her to dance with them.
U
p until now, although she had had dancing-lessons occasionally in Edinburgh, because her mother had said it was essential that she should be a good dancer, she had danced at home, only with her father.
Now for the first time she was able to dance with not one young man but a dozen, and she found it an exhilarating experience.
“You are as light as thistledown,” one told her as she was swept round the room to the strains of a Strauss waltz.
It was so thrilling that she forgot her fears about Lord Mundesley, and it was only when she was being whirled round the floor by a tall young man who she learnt was in the Brigade of Guards that she saw the Marquis seated at a table beside her host.
She had not seen him arrive, and she was quite certain he had not been there at supper.
But now, looking as usual cynical and contemptuous of everybody round him, he was beside the Prince, a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.
As she looked at him she found that he was looking at her, and she felt that in some way he had mesmerised her into being aware of him.
She almost missed a step, then heard her partner say:
“You have not given me an answer to my question.”
“I am sorry,” Davita replied. “What was it you asked me?”
“Who are you thinking about?” her partner enquired. “Whoever it is, it is not me.”
“I am sorry,” Davita said again.
He smiled at her, saying:
“I forgive you. How could I do anything else when you look so lovely?”
Davita did not feel either shy or embarrassed as she had when Lord Mundesley had paid her compliments.
Then once again she was glancing across the room at the Marquis and wondering why Violet and Lord Mundesley had been so keen for him to come to the party when they hated him so much.
“This is my night of gaiety,” she told herself.
A
bout two hours later, as she waltzed round the room Davita realised she had not seen Violet and Lord Mundesley for some time.
T
hen as she looked for them she saw that they were at the far end of the Supper-Room, talking earnestly to the Prince.
‘
What are they plotting?’ Davita wondered.
S
he was sure that if it was against the Marquis, he would not be affected by it because he was far stronger than they were! Then she wondered what she meant by that.
T
he dance came to an end and the Prince rose to his feet.
“
I have something to say to you,” he said in his deep voice with just a slight foreign accent, which made it sound very attractive.
T
he ladies all flocked towards him, looking as they moved in their full frilled skirts like the flowers that decorated the room.
“
What is it, Your Highness?” one of them asked. “Have you a surprise for us?”
“
Several, as it happens,” the Prince replied. “For one, there is a Cotillion when you will all get very attractive prizes.”
There was a cry of delight at this, and one woman said effusively:
“
Darling Boris! You are always so generous!”
“
I think we both are, Dolores, in one way or another!” the Prince replied. There was a shriek of laughter at the repartee and Dolores laughed too.
“
Before the Cotillion,” the Prince said, “as it is my birthday, we must have a little celebration.”
“
Your
birthday!”
There were shrieks from everyone.
“
Why did you not tell us?” “Why did we not know?” “We would have brought you a present!”
“
All I need as a present is that you are all here,” the Prince replied. “I intend to cut my cake, then you shall drink my health in a very special wine that comes from my own vineyard in my own country.”
A
s he spoke, servants came in carrying an enormous iced cake on which flared a number of candles.
T
hey set it down on a small table in front of the Prince, and as they did so Davita felt her hand taken by Violet.
“
Let us get near so that we see,” she said.
S
he pulled Davita through the guests until they stood at the Prince’s side.
“
I want my friend from Scotland to see this ceremony, Your Highness,” Violet said to him. “Everything’s new and exciting to her and this is something she mustn’t miss!”
“
Of course not,” the Prince answered, “and I hope, Miss Kilcraig, you will wish me happiness in the future.”
“
Of course I will!” Davita answered.
T
he Prince smiled at her, and picking up a knife ,
w
ith a jewelled handle was ready to cut the cake.
“
I must blow out the candles first,” he said, “and for as many as I extinguish, I shall have as many happy years.”
“
No cheating!” somebody shouted.
“
That is one thing I never do,” the Prince replied.
H
e drew in his breath and with one terrific blow extinguished every candle on the cake.
T
here were shrieks of delight, then everybody clapped.
“
Now wish!” Violet said.
“
That is what I am doing, but of course what I wish must be a secret!”
H
e inserted the jewelled knife into the cake and cut it, then as the servants took it away, others brought huge trays on which there were glasses of wine.
O
ne servant brought a gold tray on which there were only three glasses and presented it to the Prince.
“
Now these,” the Prince said, “are for myself and my two special guests this evening.”
H
e picked up the glass on the right and, turning to the Marquis, who was at his side, said:
“
Vange, you and I have been competitors on the racecourse and at times in the race for love. I would like you to drink my health, and may we have many more years ahead of us as competitors and—friends.”
“
You may be sure of that, Your Highness,” the Marquis answered, “and I promise I shall always do my best to defeat you!”
“
And I promise I shall strive indefatigably to be victorious!”
T
here was a roar of laughter at this, then the Prince lifted the left-hand glass and the middle one.
T
hen to Davita’s utter surprise he turned to her and said:
“
There is an old superstition in my country that a red-haired woman presents a challenge which all men find irresistible. May I ask you, Miss Kilcraig, as I think you are the only red-headed person present, to drink my health, and I hope that the future will prove a challenge both for me and for yourself!”
D
avita took the glass from the Prince’s hand and said a little shyly:
“
I ... I hope I may bring Your ... Highness both a challenge and good luck.”
“
Thank you.”
T
he Prince raised his glass.
“
Let us all drink to the future,” he said, “and, in the fashion of my country—no heel-taps!”
E
verybody raised their glasses.
“
To Boris!” they cried, “and to the future!”
D
avita put the glass to her lips, and despite what the Prince had said, she was about only to sip the wine when Violet beside her whispered:
“
You must drink it down! Otherwise it’s an insult!” Because she thought that to disobey such an instruction might draw attention to herself, Davita tipped the glass upwards and felt the liquid, which was soft, sweet, and tasted of strawberries, slip down her throat.
She was grateful that it was not the rather harsh, fiery wine she had expected.
T
hen as she turned her face to look at the Prince, she suddenly felt as if the whole room were moving.
A
t first it was just a movement like the waves of the sea. Then it seemed to accelerate and whirl as the Gypsy music was whirling, growing wilder and more insistent!
T
he sound became deafening and with it was a darkness which came up from the floor to cover her...