The American Heiress Page 8

  Cora stood like a pistachio ice melting in her mint frills and Brussels lace. She had spent the last three days imagining the moment when she would reveal herself in her full splendour to the Duke. She was expecting that look in his eyes that she had seen so many times before in other people, the look that meant they were not seeing her but all that she represented, the marble palaces, the yachts, the gilded hummingbirds. She could not blame them for this, for she was all these things. Would she be Cora Cash if she wasn’t dressed by Worth, and surrounded by luxury? Of course she was as pretty and amusing as any of her contemporaries, but Cora knew that it was her money that produced that little pocket of hush which preceded her whenever she walked into a strange room. It was her money that triggered all those sideways covert glances, the conversations that faltered when she approached. No one was unaffected by the money – even Teddy who did not want it had let it push him away.

  So she had come fully prepared for the brief moment of disappointment when she would see the Duke shaping himself around the bulk of her inheritance. She was almost looking forward to seeing him moulded by its weight. It had not occurred to her that he could be indifferent.

  She could feel a cold rivulet of sweat running down the inside of her corset and the heat of a flush burning its way across her chest. Could she steal away back to her room? She did feel rather faint. But the Duke had seen her, he would know that she was retreating. Stiffly and without any of her usual jauntiness, Cora advanced into the room, her steps making the wide oak floorboards creak as if in pain. She forced herself to smile as if she had noticed nothing amiss.

  And then she heard her name being announced by the butler.

  ‘Miss Cash, Your Grace.’

  And all at once Maltravers broke off from his story and advanced towards her as if seeing her for the first time.

  ‘Miss Cash! How delightful to see that you have recovered so…fully.’ The Duke’s gaze took in the green silk, the Brussels lace, the artfully curled fringe, the perfectly matched string of pinky pearls, the faint flush beneath them. Had he really ignored her just now? thought Cora. Did she really have to be announced by a flunkey before he could acknowledge her in his own house? This was a degree of formality at which Cora, despite growing up in the codified atmosphere of New York and Newport, could only marvel.

  She did her best to give Maltravers her most charming smile. She did not want him to see her confusion. Whether his hesitation was deliberate or not, she would not give him the satisfaction of watching her falter. He was being perfectly attentive now but she could see nothing, not a dent in his manner, that suggested he knew that she could buy him and everything he possessed and hardly notice it.

  He was leading her into the circle around the fire, introducing her to the assembled company as the miraculously restored, the indomitable Miss Cash. His tone was light and if there was a touch of irony, it was lost on Mrs Cash, who accepted this praise of her daughter’s powers of endurance as a fitting tribute to her talents as a parent. Cora realised that Bertha had been correct in her assessment of her mother’s return to form. Mrs Cash was looking particularly regal in a gown of purple brocade with gold passementerie. A diamond and sapphire parure sparkled at her neck, her wrists, and her undamaged ear lobe. Cora did not need to look at the other women in the room to know that none of them could match her mother’s display. In this world of hidden meanings and unspoken rules, there was no mistaking Mrs Cash’s value. Her mother’s queenly mien was emphasised by the priest at her side, who listened to her every word with all the attentiveness of a cardinal.

  Cora found herself talking to the Hon. Reggie Greatorex, the younger son of Lord Hallam, a young man in his late twenties who had been at Cambridge with the Duke.

  ‘Maltravers tells me you brought over your own horse from America and that it puts all our domestic animals to shame. It really is most unfair of you Americans, Miss Cash, to outclass us so effortlessly. You come over here so magnificently equipped that I fear we have nothing to offer you, except of course our undying devotion.’

  Cora laughed, she had had years of practice at dealing with the Reggies of this world. Polished, blond and, she suspected, idle, Reggie probably knew more about the exact magnitude of her inheritance than she did.

  ‘Oh, come, come, Mr Greatorex, are you telling me that your family can’t trace their lineage all the way back to William the Conqueror? Something that you know full well we newly minted Americans can never match.’

  Reggie replied in kind. ‘Oh, I would trade all the Ethelreds and Athelstans in the Greatorex lineage – Saxons being, you know, so much smarter than mere Normans – if I could belong to a nation of such magnificent creatures!’

  ‘Yes, but you look down on us all the same. I have read your Mr Wilde. What is it he says? American girls are as good at concealing their parents as English women are at concealing their past.’

  Reggie threw up his hands in mock horror. ‘Not my Mr Wilde, I can assure you, my dear Miss Cash. Not only is he Irish, but he is an Oxford man. Moreover, he is quite wrong. Who would want to conceal your mother, for instance? She is quite magnificent. She would give any of our duchesses a run for their money.’

  Cora looked at him, suddenly curious.

  ‘Do you think so? I’ve never met an English duchess. Are they very formidable?’

  ‘The old guard perhaps, but it is quite fashionable these days to be charming rather than regal. There are duchesses about who can be positively kittenish. Ivo’s mama, for instance, has quite the girlish laugh.’

  Cora stopped short. ‘The Duke’s mother? Is she here?’ She wondered if she had made some terrible faux pas by not recognising her.

  Reggie laughed at her confusion, ‘Don’t worry, if Duchess Fanny were present, you would know it. Although I’m surprised she isn’t here. Maybe she doesn’t know that Ivo has stumbled across an American heiress. You are an heiress, Miss Cash, aren’t you? I just assume that all Americans are rich these days, though I suppose that can’t be true. Judging by the jewels your mama is sporting, it must be in your case.’ He opened his blue eyes so wide to show how dazzled he was by the Cash fortune that Cora laughed.

  ‘But where is the Duchess? Doesn’t she live with her son?’

  ‘Oh no. Duchess Fanny married again as soon as she could after Wareham died. Not ready for the dower house.’ Reggie looked around to make sure the Duke was out of earshot and then said in a lower voice, ‘Ivo didn’t like it one bit but then he’s a moody cove, I don’t blame the Double Duchess for taking off.’

  Cora looked at him curiously. ‘You are very indiscreet, Mr Greatorex.’ Her tone was light but she was testing him.

  Reggie simply smiled. ‘Do you really think so? It must be you drawing all these secrets out of me. Normally I am the soul of discretion, but I feel the urge to confide in you.’

  ‘I am flattered. I wish I had something interesting to tell you in return.’

  ‘Well…’ He narrowed his eyes a little. ‘You could tell me how you got here. Ivo hasn’t had company at Lulworth since he got the title, and then this morning I got a telegram summoning me to a house party.’

  ‘That’s no secret. I was hunting with the Myddleton and I got lost.’ Cora was not about to tell her new friend about Mr Cannadine and his tattoos. ‘I was in a wood and something startled my horse, I must have hit my head on a branch. The Duke found me unconscious. When I woke up I was here in the house.’

  ‘A damsel in distress, eh. Well, lucky old Ivo.’

  ‘Oh, but surely I was the lucky one. If the Duke hadn’t found me, who knows what might have happened,’ Cora protested, but Reggie looked at her assessingly.

  ‘No, I still say he’s the lucky one,’ and then he smiled and Cora smiled back, showing her small white teeth. After the strange encounter with the Duke, it was reassuring to find herself in familiar territory. She was used to being admired by charming young men. Reggie clearly understood her value even if the Duke did not.

  Mrs
Cash could sense a flirtation at a hundred paces. She beckoned to her daughter with a hand glittering with sapphires.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Greatorex, I am being summoned.’

  ‘You must go. I believe your mother is about to give me a look and I will certainly crumple.’

  Cora moved over to the chimney piece supported by carved caryatids whose proportions echoed those of Mrs Cash.

  ‘Cora, I want you to meet Father Oliver. He is writing a history of the Maltravers family. Such a fascinating subject, so much tradition, so much self-sacrifice. I think it is just the sort of thing that you like.’ She raised her voice slightly so that the Duke, who was standing close by, could not fail to hear her. ‘My daughter is a great reader. She has had every kind of tutor and has outdistanced them all. You must ask the Duke to show you his library, Cora.’

  This had the desired effect of making it impossible for the Duke not to be drawn into the conversation.

  ‘As to the library, I am afraid that Father Oliver is a guide far more suited to a lady of Miss Cash’s intellectual gifts than myself. My brother was the scholar in the family. He was fascinated by the vicissitudes of the Maltravers – it was Guy who asked Father Oliver here. Guy was very proud of our recusant status. He felt that the Maltravers family’s refusal to accept the tenor of the times and leave the Church of Rome was proof that we were somehow of a finer moral weave than others.’ He smiled wryly.

  ‘I think if Guy had not been the eldest son, he would have followed his true vocation and become a priest. When we were children we were always playing Crusades. He was the Knight Templar and I was always the Saracen. Guy would fire his infernal toy arrows at me through the arrow slits until I surrendered. I always did surrender, of course.’ The Duke halted. Cora was about to make some droll comment but realised with a sudden hot gust of embarrassment that Guy the older brother must be dead. She looked at the Duke, but he had recovered himself and addressed her with exaggerated gallantry.

  ‘So, Miss Cash, you must let Father Oliver show you the library, but I will show you the best places to play Crusaders!’

  ‘Do you still have the bow and arrows?’ Cora responded in the same tone.

  ‘Of course, you never know when you might have to repel marauders.’ The Duke smiled at Cora when he said this but she heard the warning there. She felt his words like a slap. She was there by pure accident, after all; how could he imply that he was under siege? She wondered if she could persuade her mother to leave in the morning.

  The butler appeared to announce that dinner was served and Reggie, smiling and uncomplicated, took her into dinner.

  Cora found herself seated between Reggie and Father Oliver. The Duke had her mother on one side and Lady Briscoe, a stout lady with an ear trumpet who was evidently a neighbour, on the other. Reggie flirted with Cora over the fish; Father Oliver told her about the Reformation over the entrée. The food was neither plentiful nor particularly appetising. As one of the footmen bent over her to serve her, a large white globule fell from his powdered hair on to her plate. She looked at it astonished. The footman gasped in horror and snatched the plate away. Reggie, who had seen the whole thing, winked at her.

  ‘That’s the problem of staying in a house without a mistress. The servants can get awfully slack. Things were a good deal sprucer when Duchess Fanny was here.’

  ‘I can’t say I envy the future Duchess if her duties consist of making sure the footmen powder their hair properly. I think it is a ridiculous habit anyway. Why make the servants adopt a fashion that their masters gave up a century ago at least. I think there is something of the tumbrils about it.’ Cora’s tone was rather strident. She had conveniently forgotten that her mother’s own footmen had equally antediluvian hairstyles.

  ‘Oh, Miss Cash, what a modern girl you are. But I think you underestimate how much we English enjoy our traditions. I’m sure that the footman takes great pride in his snowy white hair and knee breeches. The whole point of being a footman is to look magnificently ancien régime. They have enormous cachet in the servants’ hall and get paid according to their height. Do you really want to bring these glorious creatures down to earth by forcing them to go unpowdered in drab broadcloth?’

  ‘I just think they might prefer it.’

  The footman in question was handing Cora some gravy. She turned to him and said, ‘What is your name?’

  The footman blushed and said, ‘Thomas, miss.’

  ‘Can I ask you a question, Thomas?’

  ‘Certainly, miss,’ he said with obvious reluctance.

  ‘Do you enjoy powdering your hair every day? How would you like it if you could wear your hair naturally?’

  The footman looked at the floor and muttered, ‘Very much, miss.’ Cora looked at Reggie triumphantly, but then the servant continued, ‘It would mean I had been made up to butler. Now if you’ll excuse me, miss, I need to finish serving.’

  Cora nodded, feeling not a little foolish. But Reggie was too tactful to press home his advantage and changed the subject deftly.

  As the meal drew to a close, the Duke looked at Mrs Cash and said, ‘In the absence of a hostess, Mrs Cash, I wonder if you would be so kind as to lead the ladies to the drawing room. I apologise for the imposition but it will only be for one more day. My mother will be arriving the day after tomorrow with my stepsister Sybil.’

  ‘Oh, how delightful, Duke, I would so much like to meet them, but I fear that Cora and I cannot impose upon your hospitality any longer. As you can see, she is quite recovered and we really should return to Sutton Veney.’ Mrs Cash’s words were more emphatic than her tone.

  The Duke took up the challenge.

  ‘But my dear Mrs Cash, my mother is hoping so much to meet you and your daughter. She will be quite disappointed not to find you here after she has made the journey from Conyers. And to be honest, Mrs Cash, my mother’s disappointment is not an easy thing to endure. Unless you have some very pressing engagement, perhaps I can prevail on you to stay for another week or so. I would so much like to show Miss Cash more of Lulworth than the wood where she met her accident.’

  Although there had been no doubt in Mrs Cash’s mind about her intention to stay, the Duke’s last remark was reassuring. She took it as a declaration of interest and looked over at Cora to see whether she had registered this too. But Cora was talking to the young man on her left, altogether too animatedly in Mrs Cash’s view, and had not heard. Mrs Cash cleared her throat and rose to her feet.

  ‘In that case, Duke, you leave me no choice but to accept your very kind invitation; I would hate to be the cause of a duchess’s disappointment. I shall write to Lord Bridport tonight. Ladies, shall we?’

  The Duke rose to his feet to open the door. As Cora passed him, he looked at her and smiled, this time without reservation.

  ‘You must allow me to show you over Lulworth, when you feel well enough, Miss Cash.’

  ‘I would like that very much, but I insist on having the bows and arrows.’ Cora picked up her train and followed her mother up the stairs.

  As the footmen cleared the rest of the dishes from the table and brought in the port, Father Oliver stood up and bowed to the other two men.

  ‘If Your Grace will excuse me, I would like to get back to the Fourth Duke. Such a devout man, quite an inspiration. Goodnight, gentlemen.’

  The Duke rolled his eyes as the well-fed figure of the priest left the room. ‘He has the zeal of the convert. Takes it all very seriously. Guy and he were very thick.’ He paused and Reggie moved up to sit next to him. Silently, the Duke passed him the decanter. The room was empty now apart from the two men. The only noises were the crackle of the fire in the stone fireplace and the tapping of the Duke’s fingers as he inflicted an invisible rhythm on the polished surface of the table. Finally he spoke.

  ‘Thank you for coming down at such short notice. I promise the sport will be tolerable, if nothing else.’

  ‘It’s been too long, Ivo. I haven’t seen you since…’ Reggie
stopped. The last time he had been at Lulworth was for Guy’s funeral.

  Ivo looked at him, reading his thoughts. ‘It was a year ago this week. Feels longer.’

  ‘Is that why the Duchess is coming?’

  ‘She would like me to think so, but she only sent the telegram yesterday.’ The Duke did an imitation of his mother’s breathy tones. ‘I felt such an urge to be with you.’

  Reggie nodded towards the door. ‘The Americans?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But how did she know?’

  ‘At first I suspected Father Oliver of writing to her, but actually it was Charlotte. She was at Sutton Veney when the accident happened and felt that Mother ought to know.’

  ‘And how is Charlotte? I have hardly seen her since she married Beauchamp. Never cared for him much at school. Used to keep a diary full of his ghastly “observations”. Still can’t understand why Charlotte accepted him.’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘But Beauchamp, of all people. I mean, he collects china.’

  ‘He loves beautiful things and Charlotte has always liked to be admired.’

  ‘But we all admired her, Ivo.’

  ‘But none of us had the means to display her properly.’ The Duke’s fingers, which had not stopped moving to their invisible rhythm, suddenly hit a fortissimo chord and the glasses rattled.

  There was another silence. Both men drained and refilled their glasses.

  ‘Quite a thing, finding Miss Cash like that,’ Reggie said, looking at his friend speculatively. ‘Something of a windfall, you might say.’

  Another rattle from the glasses. Finally Ivo said, ‘Well, I couldn’t very well leave her there. I had no idea that she came with all this…this stuff.’ Ivo picked up a silver coaster and sent it flying down the table. Both men watched it as it circled and slowly grew still.

  ‘Do you think she knew who the wood belonged to?’

  ‘I did wonder, especially after I met the mother, but I don’t think the daughter is a schemer. No, I think Miss Cash’s arrival at Lulworth was entirely accidental.’