Enchanted. Barbara Cartland
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you cannot invite the Queen, for who would want The Widow of Windsor? But the Prince of Wales will undoubtedly enjoy your parties and so, of course, will – Isobel.”
There was something in the way that Harry referred to the Countess that made the Duke realise that he was asking a question.
“Yes, and so will Isobel,” he repeated slowly, looking his friend straight in the eyes.
“Then I can only really hope for her sake that your Duchess is half-wilted,” Harry said. “Otherwise she will be seared by Isobel’s tongue, tortured by her innuendos and undoubtedly, unless you prevent it, be reduced to tears within five minutes of Isobel entering the house.”
“I can control Isobel,” the Duke replied, “and I shall not allow her to do anything of the sort.”
“I wonder if you will be able to prevent her. She will be like a lioness defending her mate against all comers and your wife will hardly have a fair chance when it comes to a fight with claws.”
“It will not come to that,” the Duke said sharply, “and anyway, I will see that everybody, including you, treats my wife with respect.”
“I have always thought the words ‘respect’ with ‘duty’, ‘obligation’ and ‘responsibility’ are words that are of unutterable dullness. If your wife has any spirit in her she will want a great deal more than respect.”
“Shut up, Harry!” the Duke ordered. “You are trying to make me regret that I accepted the Duke of Northallerton’s offer and tomorrow I am going to The Towers to ask his daughter formally for her hand in marriage.”
Harry Sheldon did not answer and after a moment the Duke went on,
“Dammit, what is the alternative? You want me to marry. I have been nagged about it for years and now you are trying to put obstacles in my way. If I don’t marry Caroline Allerton, it will be some other unfledged schoolgirl.”
There was silence for a moment.
Then Harry said,
“But, of course, nobody else can offer you so much land.”
“Nobody. And whatever happens future generations of Chesters will undoubtedly bless me for the sacrifice I am making on their behalf.”
“Sacrifice? That is the right word!” Harry said. “Or shall I say that you are selling your freedom for a ‘mess of pottage’?”
“For ten thousand acres,” the Duke corrected him laconically.
“I have a feeling,” Harry said prophetically, “that you will be paying one way or another for every acre one by one.”
The Duke laughed.
“If I have any more of your gloomy predictions, I shall send you right back to London,” he said. “What you need is another glass of champagne! Oh, and I have forgotten to tell you, amongst my other guests there will be the delectable Marguerite who is arriving this evening especially for you.”
Harry Sheldon sat up and there was a sudden light in his eyes.
“She has accepted?”
“With alacrity!” the Duke replied, “and, hold your breath, she is coming alone. James is unfortunately detained on duty at Buckingham Palace.”
Harry Sheldon made a sound of undisguised exaltation.
“Silvanus, you are a Trojan! You have brought a new light and laughter into my life and one day I shall do the same for you.”
“I will hold you to that,” the Duke said. “God knows, if I am to become a married man, I may well need your help.”
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