The Marquis Is Trapped (4 page)

How was he going to tell her that their
affaire-de-coeur
was at an end?

At this moment he had no wish to see her again and most of all he did not wish to even discuss, as he knew she would insist, whether or not they should be married.

It would be embarrassing for him and also he was not certain as to how she would take the idea of their affair closing down so abruptly.

Some women he left had wept copious tears.

Some had written pleading letters.

Just one or two had accepted the silence between them as something that could not be altered and made no comment of any sort.

Later in the morning, his secretary, as was usual in such situations, would despatch a large bouquet of orchids or roses to Isobel.

There would be no card or letter with it, because it was the Marquis’s sense of protection not to put anything in writing.

He had never written love letters, as he knew how dangerous they could be if a husband became suspicious about his wife’s behaviour.

Isobel would receive her orchids, but she would not be aware that they marked the end of an affair that she had hoped would end in marriage.

Still, she would be expecting him for dinner.

If not tonight, then the night after or the night after that.

But what would come after that?  If she did not hear directly from him, she would then undoubtedly demand an explanation.

‘I have to do something,’ the Marquis reflected.

Then an idea came to him.

Foster had told him casually yesterday morning, when he was writing his letters, that the alterations ordered for his yacht had been completed.

“As the Captain thought your Lordship would like to see them,” Mr. Foster had continued, “he is bringing
The
Neptune
up the River Thames and will moor it just above Westminster Bridge.”

The Marquis had nodded and then he had continued dictating a letter about some other issue.

Now he remembered that his yacht would be close by and the Captain would be waiting for his inspection.

‘Perhaps I will sail away,’ he pondered and then he wondered where he should go.

Almost as if he was being prompted, he recalled that amongst his correspondence yesterday morning was a letter that he had not expected.

It was from an old friend of his father’s, the Earl of Darendell, who had written to him from Scotland saying,

“
Dear Kexley,

“I have seen your name mentioned a few times in the
Social columns of the newspapers and realise that you have
been back in England for some time.

As you will doubtless remember, I was a very close
friend of your father’s for many years and I am wondering
if you would like to come to Scotland at any time and stay
with me at Darendell Castle?

Our river at the moment seems to be full of salmon,
and your father was a very fine fisherman.

My wife and I would welcome you at any time this
month or next and it would be delightful to talk of the old
days and how much I have enjoyed staying in your house in
Berkshire.

Yours very sincerely

Darendell.
”

The Marquis had been touched by the letter.

He remembered the Earl as a most interesting and intelligent man and he had been one of his father’s oldest friends and they had been at school together.

He had never been to Darendell Castle in Scotland, but he had heard a great deal about it.

It now struck him that this invitation could almost be an answer from Heaven.

It was where he should go to escape from Isobel.

If he left immediately, it would save the arguments, accusations and inevitable tears.

He would also not feel uncomfortable every time he saw her at Marlborough House or at any other party.

‘It will be running away,’ he told himself, ‘but there is nothing else I can do.’

Then he lent back against his pillows.

It was a long time since he had fished for salmon and it was a sport he had always enjoyed with his father.

Strangely enough he had not been to Scotland since he had grown up although he had been there twice while he was still at Eton and each time he had stayed with friends in Edinburgh.

Now he ruminated about it, Darendell Castle was much further up the East coast of Scotland – unless he was mistaken, it was in Sutherland.

‘It is something I might well enjoy,’ he wondered.

He remembered that the Earl was an elderly man and any other guests staying in the Castle would doubtless be his contemporaries as his father had been.

Therefore he would be safe from women pursuing him and attempting to trap him into marriage.

Once again he felt that he could hear Isobel’s voice so soft, gentle and beguiling, suggesting quietly that they should be married.

It would just be impossible for him to tell a woman, especially one as beautiful as Isobel that he did not love her enough for that particular sacrifice – nor that he considered her behaviour was something he would ever tolerate in his own wife.

She would be furious with him and would doubtless make him a laughing stock.

There would be quite a large number of Socialites, who unfortunately would be only too pleased to say that he had behaved badly and perpetuate endless scurrilous gossip about him.

In a way the situation was ironic.

It was accepted that he could not marry the women he had made love to if they were already married, while it would be considered very wrong and ungentlemanly if he refused to marry one of them who wished to marry him and was free to do so.

‘It is all
too
complicated and incomprehensible for me,’ the Marquis decided.

He might indeed be deemed a coward to run away, but he had no wish to stay and face the music.

‘The quicker that I leave London the better.’

Then having made the decision, the Marquis turned over and closed his eyes.

As he did so, he could almost hear Isobel pleading with him, whilst at the same time exciting him, as she could do so successfully.

‘And with a great deal of experience,’ he thought cynically.

‘I shall be going away,’ he determined firmly, ‘and I will find some excuse for leaving.  Nothing and no one will prevent me from doing what I want to do – ’

And the final words of that sentence were,

‘
To remain unmarried
.’

Then again he could hear all his relatives pleading with him to produce an heir.

And Isobel repeating to him so softly, seductively and irresistibly how blissfully happy they would both be if she was his wife.

“
Never!  
Never!  Never!” the Marquis shouted out loud.

His voice seemed to ring out in the darkness of his bedroom.

CHAPTER TWO

The Marquis woke as his valet was pulling back the curtains.

He had slept deeply and dreamlessly.

It took a little time to remember that he had a busy day ahead of him.

Gilbert, his valet, came to his side.

“It’s nine o’clock, my Lord.”

The Marquis stared at him in surprise.

“Nine o’clock!” he exclaimed.  “Why have I been called so late?”

“I did look in earlier, my Lord, but your Lordship were fast asleep.  As you was late coming in and have no engagements for this morning, I thinks it’d do you good to rest for a bit!”

The Marquis smiled where another man might have raged.

Gilbert had been with him ever since he left Oxford and had travelled with him around the world.  He always seemed to behave rather like a nanny who was determined not to let her charge get into any trouble.

What he had done for him this morning was out of sheer affection and the Marquis could never scold him for that.

He pulled back the bedclothes.

“I must get up at once,” he said, “because actually, although you were not aware of it, I have a great deal to do.  We will be leaving for Scotland later this afternoon in the yacht.”

“Scotland, my Lord.  That’ll be something new!”

The Marquis laughed.

“I think it is something I really do need and that is why we are going there.”

As he walked towards his bathroom, he turned back to order,

“Send now for Captain Gordon, Gilbert.  My yacht is moored just above Westminster Bridge.”

Gilbert hurried away to obey his command.

The message was then relayed to the mews to send a conveyance to
The Neptune
.

It did not take the Marquis long to bathe and dress and he walked slowly downstairs for his breakfast.

There was a whole row of silver entrée dishes on the sideboard waiting for him.

Enough, the Marquis had often thought, for a dozen rather than just one, but it would have insulted the cook, who also had been with him for a great number of years, if he had complained in any way about the food or the large array of dishes.

When he had finished his breakfast, he went to the study.

He had always thought that it was one of the most attractive rooms in the house.  His father had made it very picturesque and it looked out onto a garden at the back.

It contained some of the best sporting pictures in the Marquis’s collection.

As soon as he was seated at his desk his secretary, Mr. Foster, came hurrying in.

“You have not forgotten, my Lord,” he asked, “that you are having luncheon with His Royal Highness today?”

The Marquis knew by his agitated manner that Mr. Foster had already been told, perhaps by Gilbert, that he was leaving for Scotland.

“I have not forgotten, Foster.  I will go straight from Marlborough House to the yacht.  See that I am supplied with everything I might need for the voyage, and of course, that includes some of the best champagne.”

“The arrangements are in hand, my Lord, but your Lordship will have to refuse so many invitations that you have already accepted.”

“I know, but my excuse is that an old friend of my father’s has been taken ill and has asked me to come and see him.  I have to leave at once, as his doctors fear he has only a short time to live.”

“I understand, my Lord, and, of course, I offer you my commiserations.”

The Marquis did not explain to Mr. Foster that what he had said was factitious.  He decided that it would be the same explanation he would give to Isobel for his absence.

Mr. Foster had a great number of letters for him to sign and bills to be paid.

When all this was finished, he gave Mr. Foster the address of where he would be staying.

Then the butler announced that Captain Gordon had arrived from
The Neptune
and the Marquis felt pleased that his instructions had been carried out so rapidly.

Mr. Foster left and the Captain was shown in.

It was usual to call a naval Officer commanding a private yacht, ‘Captain’, although John Gordon had been in the Royal Navy and had not served long enough to reach the rank of Captain in Her Majesty’s fleet.

After the Marquis had engaged him, he realised he had been very fortunate.

He was employing an excellent Captain, who was not only experienced but had a real love of the sea and he was very enthusiastic when it came to improving the yacht.  The crew he engaged were nearly all ex-naval men.

The Marquis rose and held out his hand to welcome the Captain.

“It is good to see you, Gordon, and I hope that all my new ideas have been put into practice.”

“They have indeed, my Lord,” replied the Captain, “and I am pleased to have the chance of speaking to you so soon after leaving the shipyard.”

“You have moored
The Neptune
near Westminster Bridge?”

“It is where we have been before, my Lord, and we have an excellent berth with no problems.”

“Well, you will not be staying there long, as we are leaving this afternoon for Scotland.”

The Captain looked at him in surprise.

“For Scotland!” he exclaimed.

“I thought you would be pleased at the idea, as you are a Scot yourself, Gordon, and we are going to the very far North.  In fact to Darendell Castle, which I am sure you have heard about.”

“I have indeed, my Lord, but it takes me rather by surprise, since, having completed the work you required on the yacht, I was going to request your permission for a few days holiday.”