Read Online A Duke in Danger by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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bedrooms up the very small, ladder-like wooden stairs.
It was all so primitive that the Duke felt it was an insult that anyone who was refined and educated, as Miss Richardson obviously was, should have to live in such a place.
Yet, if the previous Duke had turned her away, as Walton had said, and she had nowhere else to go, it at least constituted a roof over her head.
He could hear voices in the next room, although he could not hear what they were saying.
Then the door opened and Miss Richardson said in a quiet, controlled voice:
“Would Your Grace come in?”
The Duke rose and again had to lower his head to enter what he thought was the smallest Sitting-Room he had ever been in.
It was so tiny that there was only just room for two very ancient armchairs and a desk which looked as if it might have come out of the School-Room, with a small chair in front of it.
Again, the windows had curtains that had once been of expensive material, and the paintings on the walls were amateur water-colours.
These he suspected had been done by Miss Richardson’s pupils, one of them of course being Alvina herself.
His cousin rose as he entered. He saw that she had been crying and her eyes were enormous in her small face.
Because she looked so woebegone and very young, the Duke suddenly felt he had been unjustly brutal, in fact, unsportsmanlike, to someone so vulnerable and defenceless.
As he heard the door close behind him he said, and his voice was very quiet and sincere:
“I have come to apologise.”
It was obviously something she had not expected, and for a moment she looked at him incredulously, but she did not speak.
“How could I have known—how could I have guessed for one moment,” the Duke asked, “that your father did not leave you with any money, and that the staff in the Castle should have been reduced to what it is now?”
As if she felt embarrassed, Alvina looked down, her lashes dark against the whiteness of her skin, and he suspected they were still wet.
“Let us sit down and talk about it,” the Duke said. “There is so much I want you to tell me, and I can only ask you to forgive me for upsetting you.”
He spoke in a way that both men and women found irresistible when he was being diplomatic, and as if she felt her legs could no longer support her, Alvina sank down onto the chair she had just vacated.
The Duke sat a little gingerly in the one opposite. “Suppose we start at the beginning,” he said, “and you tell me why your father would not give you any money when there is in the Bank a very large sum which I have now inherited.”
“A large ... sum?” Alvina asked in a voice little above a whisper. “Do you ... mean that we are not ... bankrupt?”
“Of course not,” the Duke replied. “Your father died a very rich man. Surely the Solicitors told you that?”
“We have no Solicitors.”
“What do you mean, you have no Solicitors?”
He felt that once again he was asking questions too sharply, and he added quickly:
“Forgive me, but I am completely bewildered as to what has happened, and there appears to be no-one but yourself who can tell me anything.”
“Papa was so ... sure that we were absolutely ... penniless.”
“Walton has told me that your father was not at all himself after Richard died,” the Duke answered, almost as if he was making excuses.
“That was true,” Alvina agreed. “At the same time, even before that Papa had become very alarmed. He kept on talking about economy, and I think perhaps he had always been very cautious where money was concerned. Only Mama insisted on making everything so happy and comfortable for us at the Castle.”
“That is how I remember it,” the Duke said, “and there were certainly no economies at Richard’s twenty-first party.”
“Mama planned that,” Alvina said, “and when Richard was k illed I was so very ... very glad he ... had enjoyed it so ... much.”
“I always think of him enjoying life to the
It was all so primitive that the Duke felt it was an insult that anyone who was refined and educated, as Miss Richardson obviously was, should have to live in such a place.
Yet, if the previous Duke had turned her away, as Walton had said, and she had nowhere else to go, it at least constituted a roof over her head.
He could hear voices in the next room, although he could not hear what they were saying.
Then the door opened and Miss Richardson said in a quiet, controlled voice:
“Would Your Grace come in?”
The Duke rose and again had to lower his head to enter what he thought was the smallest Sitting-Room he had ever been in.
It was so tiny that there was only just room for two very ancient armchairs and a desk which looked as if it might have come out of the School-Room, with a small chair in front of it.
Again, the windows had curtains that had once been of expensive material, and the paintings on the walls were amateur water-colours.
These he suspected had been done by Miss Richardson’s pupils, one of them of course being Alvina herself.
His cousin rose as he entered. He saw that she had been crying and her eyes were enormous in her small face.
Because she looked so woebegone and very young, the Duke suddenly felt he had been unjustly brutal, in fact, unsportsmanlike, to someone so vulnerable and defenceless.
As he heard the door close behind him he said, and his voice was very quiet and sincere:
“I have come to apologise.”
It was obviously something she had not expected, and for a moment she looked at him incredulously, but she did not speak.
“How could I have known—how could I have guessed for one moment,” the Duke asked, “that your father did not leave you with any money, and that the staff in the Castle should have been reduced to what it is now?”
As if she felt embarrassed, Alvina looked down, her lashes dark against the whiteness of her skin, and he suspected they were still wet.
“Let us sit down and talk about it,” the Duke said. “There is so much I want you to tell me, and I can only ask you to forgive me for upsetting you.”
He spoke in a way that both men and women found irresistible when he was being diplomatic, and as if she felt her legs could no longer support her, Alvina sank down onto the chair she had just vacated.
The Duke sat a little gingerly in the one opposite. “Suppose we start at the beginning,” he said, “and you tell me why your father would not give you any money when there is in the Bank a very large sum which I have now inherited.”
“A large ... sum?” Alvina asked in a voice little above a whisper. “Do you ... mean that we are not ... bankrupt?”
“Of course not,” the Duke replied. “Your father died a very rich man. Surely the Solicitors told you that?”
“We have no Solicitors.”
“What do you mean, you have no Solicitors?”
He felt that once again he was asking questions too sharply, and he added quickly:
“Forgive me, but I am completely bewildered as to what has happened, and there appears to be no-one but yourself who can tell me anything.”
“Papa was so ... sure that we were absolutely ... penniless.”
“Walton has told me that your father was not at all himself after Richard died,” the Duke answered, almost as if he was making excuses.
“That was true,” Alvina agreed. “At the same time, even before that Papa had become very alarmed. He kept on talking about economy, and I think perhaps he had always been very cautious where money was concerned. Only Mama insisted on making everything so happy and comfortable for us at the Castle.”
“That is how I remember it,” the Duke said, “and there were certainly no economies at Richard’s twenty-first party.”
“Mama planned that,” Alvina said, “and when Richard was k illed I was so very ... very glad he ... had enjoyed it so ... much.”
“I always think of him enjoying life to the
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