A Duke in Danger by Barbara Cartland Page B

pleased to find that the man Gerald had engaged for him was quick-witted enough to realise that there was a crisis and was ready to help in every way he could.
    The Duke sent him into the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Johnson, then looked towards the end of the stables where he could see the roof of a house.
    He knew this was the Head-Gardener’s and opened on the back of the very large, walled Kitchen Garden, which was out of sight of the Castle.
    It had always provided him and his cousin Richard with apples, peaches, nectarines, green figs, and golden plums.
    He had the horrifying feeling now that it would look like a jungle, and he therefore walked past the Head-Gardener’s house quickly.
    On the far side of it, about fifty yards away, was a very small cottage.
    He was certain that this was where one of the undergardeners, perhaps the most important of them, had lived.
    He was sure he was not wrong in recalling that when he was young there was an army of men working in the Kitchen Garden, on the lawns, in the flower-beds, and down by the lake.
    When he reached the cottage, he saw that the windows were clean and the small garden between the gate and the front door was bright with flowers.
    He walked up the small paved path and knocked on the door, which he noticed needed painting, although the brass knocker had been polished and so had the keyhole.
    For a moment there was silence, then he heard the footsteps of someone who walked with a limp crossing the flagged floor. The door opened and he saw an elderly, rather distinguished, white-haired woman looking at him.
    The Duke smiled.
    “I think you must be Miss Richardson,” he said. “I am the Duke of Harlington.”
    Miss Richardson made a little effort to curtsey, but it was obviously impossible.
    She did not, however, open the door any wider, and after a moment the Duke said:
    “I think my cousin Alvina is with you.”
    “She is, Your Grace, but she has no wish to see anyone at the moment.”
    “I think you will understand, Miss Richardson,” the Duke said, “that since I have just arrived and found things are very different from what I expected, the only person who can help me is Lady Alvina.”
    As he spoke, he had the uncomfortable feeling that Miss Richardson was contemplating telling him to go away and shutting the door.
    Then, as if she decided it would be a mistake, she said:
    “Would Your Grace be gracious enough to wait a moment while I ask Lady Alvina if she is prepared to see you?
    She lowered her voice before she added:
    “She is somewhat upset at the moment.”
    “It was my fault,” the Duke replied, “but I had no idea before I arrived that the Castle would be so different from what it was when I last visited it.”
    The way he spoke seemed to sweep away a little of what had been an obvious feeling of hostility on the part of Miss Richardson, and she opened the door a little wider.
    “Perhaps Your Grace would come in,” she said. “And if you do not mind sitting in the kitchen, I will talk to Lady Alvina.”
    The door was so low that the Duke had to bend his head and once inside he could only just stand upright.
    The kitchen was like a small box. However, it was spotlessly clean, and he thought that the walls must have been white-washed by Miss Richardson herself, or else, though it seemed incredible, Alvina.
    There was a very primitive stove, a deal table, and two chairs. On one wall was a dresser which held plates, cups, saucers, and three china jugs.
    The window was covered by some very old and faded curtains of a rich brocade which the Duke thought must at some time have hung in the Castle.
    He sat down on one of the hard wooden chairs while Miss Richardson limped through a door which he guessed led to the Parlour.
    Now he was sure that this cottage, like so many of the other workmen’s cottages on the Estate, consisted of two rooms on the ground floor, the kitchen and the Parlour, with a scullery at the back, and there would be two tiny