A Touch Of Love. Barbara Cartland

      Lord Ronald Grant and his wife had been drowned when a sudden and unexpected tempest had burst out of what had seemed a cloudless sky.

      The Sea Lark had been swept away to be wrecked, they learnt later, on the rocks.

      The shock had been all the more terrible because it was two days before Tamara could learn what had happened.

      She only felt within herself that the worst had occurred when her sister and her husband did not return.

      Some fishermen had gone out as soon as the storm had abated, but all they had discovered were fragments of The Sea Lark floating on the waves and pathetically a little woollen cap that had belonged to Lady Ronald.

      It had all happened so unexpectedly, so suddenly that it was hard for Tamara to realise that her good-tempered charming brother-in-law was dead and that she would never see her sister again, whom she adored.

      Now, as if her thoughts went back to what Mr. Lawson had been saying a little earlier on, she said aloud,

      “They gave me a home after Papa died. I was so happy with them and you know, Mr. Lawson, if it’s the last thing I do, I have to repay that debt.”

      There was a note in Tamara’s voice that showed she was not very far from tears and after a moment Mr. Lawson said,

      “I understand only too well what you are feeling, Miss Selincourt, and that is why you will appreciate that the only sensible course for you to take is the one I am about to suggest to you.”

      “What is that?” Tamara asked curiously.

      “It is,” he said slowly, “that you should take the children to their uncle, the Duke of Granchester!”

      If he had exploded a bomb in front of her, Tamara could not have looked more astonished.

      “Take them to the Duke?” she repeated, her voice incredulous. “How could you suggest such a thing?”

      “Who else is there?” Mr. Lawson asked. “As far as I know your brother-in-law has not kept in touch with any member of his family and the children are undoubtedly, now they are orphans, His Grace’s responsibility.”

      “It’s impossible!” Tamara protested. “Surely you are aware of the manner in which the Duke has treated his brother – and my sister?”

      There was an unmistakable note of hostility in her voice and Mr. Lawson said quietly,

      “I know the story only too well, but we cannot entirely blame the present Duke for his father’s attitude when Lord Ronald wished to marry your sister.”

      “It was inhuman! Barbaric!” Tamara stormed and now her dark eyes were flashing. “Do you know what happened, Mr. Lawson, when Ronald wrote to his father to say that he wanted to marry Maïka?”

      Mr. Lawson did not reply and she went on angrily,

      “He tore down to Oxford where Ronald was in residence and told him that if he married Maïka he would never speak to him again!”

      “You must understand,” Mr. Lawson said mildly, “that the Duke, who was a very pious man, had a horror of anything connected with the Playhouse!”

      “He said because Maïka appeared on the stage that she was an actress. But in fact she was nothing of the sort!” Tamara’s voice seemed to ring out as she continued, “Maïka was a singer and because at the time my mother was desperately ill and my father could not afford the high fees asked by the best doctors, she sang in an Opera Company.”

      Mr. Lawson was about to speak, but Tamara went on,

      “In two years she made enough money to pay for all the treatments my mother required.”

      “Surely this was explained to His Grace at the time?” Mr. Lawson murmured.

      “Do you suppose he would listen?” Tamara asked furiously. “He would not even allow Ronald to speak in my sister’s defence.”

      She drew in her breath before she said,

      “Ronald told me that he spoke as if Maïka was a prostitute, a woman beyond the pale, whom he had picked up in some gutter! He would neither meet her nor hear about her. He just repeated his ultimatum!”

      She paused before she added,

      “When Ronald told him that, whatever he said, he intended to marry my sister, the Duke walked out and never spoke to him again!”

      She threw out her hands as she asked,

      “What sort of father was that? What sort of man is it who would repudiate his own son without allowing him even to speak a word in his own defence?”

      “The Duke has been dead for some time,” Mr. Lawson remarked quietly.

      “The present Duke is no better,” Tamara snapped. “He is only a year older than Ronald and you would think that he might have understood and perhaps sympathised! But he slavishly accepted his father’s decision that the family should sever all connections with the – ‘black sheep’.”

      Her voice broke on the last word.

      She rose and walked to the window to stare out fighting her tears before she said,

      “You know how sweet, gentle and wonderful in every way my sister was. Actually she hated the stage and everything to do with it.”

      “She once told me so,” Mr. Lawson replied.

      “As soon as she made enough money to save my mother,” Tamara continued as if he had not spoken, “she left the theatre just to be Ronald’s wife, as she had always wanted to be, and they were blissfully happy.”

      “I don’t think I have ever known a couple who were so happy,” Mr. Lawson agreed almost enviously.

      “And they died together,” Tamara murmured. “I don’t believe that either of them could have gone on living alone.”

      Mr. Lawson adjusted his spectacles.

      “Now to get back to where we started, Miss Selincourt,” he said briskly, “and that is the financial position of you and the children. The only possible thing to do is to take them where they belong.”

      “Do you really think I would do that?” Tamara asked. “That I would humiliate myself and them to ask favours of a man who has behaved so abominably to his own brother?”

      “What is the alternative?” Mr. Lawson asked.

      “There must be something – something we could – do,” Tamara said desperately.

      She walked back towards the desk and sat down in the chair where she had been sitting before, almost as if her legs would no longer support her.

      “If there is, I have no idea of it,” Mr. Lawson said. “Quite frankly, Miss Selincourt, I think it only right and just that the Duke should be made responsible for his brother’s children.”

      Tamara did not speak and after a moment he went on,

      “Mr. Trevena says that he will take over the house and pay enough money to rid you of the mortgage and all Lord Ronald’s other debts, provided he has possession immediately.”

      “I suppose he wants it for his son who is getting married,” Tamara said dully.

      “That is right,” Mr. Lawson replied. “He is a difficult man and, if we put him off, he may buy a house elsewhere.”

      Tamara was silent, realising that to sell a house of the size of The Manor in that isolated part of Cornwall was not easy.

      They might go for months, if not years, without finding another buyer and it would be impossible to feed the children let alone provide them with clothes and education.

      “Is the Duke aware that his brother is dead?” she asked after a moment.

      Mr. Lawson