The Keys of Love by Barbara Cartland Page A

protégée . “The Duke is waiting.”
    Henrietta stared miserably at the hem of Romany’s dark green skirt as it trailed on past her down the stairs.
    As soon as Romany was well out of earshot, Lady Butterclere leaned menacingly towards Henrietta.
    â€œNow you just take heed, Miss Reed. I know your sort only too well. You intercepted that note. You aim to set your cap at the Duke and distract him from Romany.”
    â€œI c-can assure you, such a thought was n-never on my mind.”
    â€œWas it not?” asked Lady Butterclere sarcastically. “Then would you explain to me why you were on your way to see the Duke in that provocative condition ?”
    For a moment, she was horribly confused. What did Lady Butterclere mean in that provocative condition ?
    With dawning horror, she remembered that she had not been able to hook up her dress she had rushed out of Kitty’s room without asking for help.
    Now she glanced into the mirror on the stairs and almost burst into tears at the sight that met her eyes.
    Her hair had come loose and now fell over her face untidily. Her dress had slipped off, exposing an alabaster shoulder and the tip of a heaving breast.
    What was more, she had forgotten to put on any stockings or shoes and was standing there in her bare feet.
    â€œOh. Oh. Oh,” she cried.
    â€œI should think so too,” said Lady Butterclere with grim satisfaction. “You look like a a common harlot !”
    Henrietta turned to stumble away and as she did so she noticed Lady Butterclere’s demeanour rapidly change.
    The woman’s lips now puckered into a tight little smile as she and her skirts sank in an obsequious curtsy.
    â€œYour Grace,” she twittered.
    Henrietta understood in an instant. He was there, the Duke, somewhere in the hall below gazing up.
    Gazing up at her and her unhooked dress with her corset and slim white back exposed to all and sundry.
    â€˜Oh,’ she cried again, before taking to her heels.
    Back in her room she flung herself into a chair and buried her face in her hands.
    She had never felt so foolish and so humiliated.
    She had welcomed Eddie’s ploy to get her here.
    She had felt very drawn to Merebury, drawn to its handsome, raven-haired Master. He would meet her as a social inferior, but at least she would set eyes on him.
    At least she would know if this burgeoning passion was more than a mere surge of emotion.
    All was now lost.
    The Duke himself had witnessed her confrontation with Lady Butterclere. He had seen her in that condition upon the stairs and heard her called ‘a common harlot’.
    She must perform with the orchestra as promised, but there was no way that she could be presented to him at supper or anywhere else.
    It was all over for her.
    Never, not in a million years could Harrietta Reed or Henrietta Radford, for that matter, meet the handsome Duke of Merebury face to face.
    *
    Eddie Bragg perched on the edge of the armchair in Henrietta’s room and poured himself a glass of wine.
    â€œThat Duke keeps a good cellar,” he pronounced.
    Kitty, lounging on the window seat, gave a snort.
    â€œI don’t expect he ever supposed half of it would end up wetting Eddie Bragg’s whistle!”
    Henrietta listened dully. Her visitors had dropped in after supper, wondering why she had not attended.
    The Duke himself had commented on the fact that not all the orchestra were present, but Lady Butterclere had commented snootily that nobody special was missing.
    â€œI’d like to have beaten her about the head with my salmon,” muttered Eddie.
    â€œShe’s surely got it in for you, honey,” said Kitty, turning to look at Henrietta where she sat on the bed in her nightdress, knees under her chin.
    â€œYeah,” agreed Eddie, staring at the ceiling. “And boy, does the old gorgon eat. She put away half a pound of mackerel, four lamb chops, a side of ham and a duck! That skinny Lizzie