“Gossip travels on the wind,” the Marquis said quickly, “even in the quiet countryside like this.”
There was a sarcastic rather cynical note in his voice and Carola said quickly,
“You must not be surprised. After all, you are of great Social importance and my mother always said that the mothers who tried to marry their daughters off to someone with a title could be very bitter when their efforts were thwarted.”
The Marquis laughed.
“You are right,” he said, “and it is something that does not usually worry me in the slightest, but at this moment I am concerned not with the Dowagers of Mayfair, but with a puritanical American!”
“What did you say to him?” Carola asked.
“I said he would doubtless hear stories about me and Lilac Lucas, but the truth was that I was concerned about her broken heart.”
Carola looked surprised and he went on,
“I told him the reason for this was that her husband whom she adores, is interested in another woman. ‘If there is one thing that really upsets me,’ I said to Westwood, ‘it is seeing a pretty woman in tears!’”
“And he believed you?” Carola asked.
“Of course he did!” the Marquis answered. “My performance was as good as yours!”
“It was certainly a clever explanation.”
“That is what I thought myself, but you do realise I shall have to be a very attentive husband and convince him that there is nothing in the stories he has been told?”
He frowned before he added,
“I only wish I could get my hands on one of those gossipers who cannot keep their tongues to themselves!”
“I am afraid that you would be like Canute trying to hold back the tide!” Carola said, “but I realise you must be very certain that Mr. Westwood believes you.”
She clasped her hands together before she continued,
“It would be too upsetting and too cruel after all the trouble we have taken to open this splendid house if he went back to America or chose another Chairman.”
“That is exactly what makes me afraid,” the Marquis replied, “and perhaps you could see your way clear to telling him what a wonderful husband I am and how happy we are together.”
“Yes, of course, I will do that,” Carola replied. “Actually I think he is a rather nice man.”
“I think so too,” the Marquis agreed, “but I did not expect him to have a psalm-singing father who would be more important to him than his snobby desire to have a titled son-in-law!”
“I think Mary-Lou is a very sweet girl,” Carola remarked. “But I have the feeling that she has some of her father’s obstinacy and intelligence and would not marry merely for a title.”
“Do you really believe that?” the Marquis asked. “I thought it was the ambition of every woman to have a ‘handle’ to their names and if possible to walk in to dinner in front of their mothers!”
Carola laughed.
“Now you are talking about the Dowagers you despise. I am sure all girls, if they are given the chance, want to marry for love and personally I think arranged marriages are appalling and should be forbidden by law!”
Now the Marquis laughed,
“You are certainly an original young woman and may I tell you that I am tremendously impressed with the way in which you have taken on a very daunting role that would be hard even for a professional actress.”
“That is the sort of compliment I want to hear!” Carola smiled. “You must be aware that I have been very very frightened!”
“I saw the fear in your eyes when I arrived,” the Marquis admitted. “I promise I will do everything in my power to prevent you from being upset in any way, and of course, I am more grateful than I can put into words.”
“I am doing this for Peter!” Carola told him. “It was very kind of you to ask him to join your high-powered friends.”
“I realise that you and your brother are not well off,” the Marquis commented.
“Things have been very difficult since Papa died, so it would be wonderful for Peter to have not only a little money but also something to do.”
“That is what I thought myself,” the Marquis replied, “and it is the case with all of us of ‘Satan finding mischief for idle hands’!”
“Then I will pray very hard,” Carola said, “that Mr. Westwood will believe you are the right person to chair his Company and that your friends are all decent God-fearing men.”
She spoke so fervently that the Marquis said quietly,
“I feel sure, Carola, that your prayers will be heard. At the same time for the next two days, we must be very careful.”
“Yes, of course,” Carola agreed, “and do think of activities that will keep all your guests occupied.”
The Marquis looked puzzled and she explained,
“If there is a lot of talk, it’s easy for anyone to make a mistake. Before I came to bed tonight I told Peter to make sure that no one drank too much.”
“That was sensible of you,” the Marquis sighed, “and something I should have thought of myself.”
“Do think of plenty of things for everyone to do tomorrow,” Carola said. “Of course there can be riding and perhaps you can think of something original for them or somewhere unusual to go in the afternoon.”
“I will take your advice,” the Marquis said, “and at some stage we have to have our committee meeting.”
“And on Sunday – ” Carola began.
Then she gave a little cry.
“What is it?” the Marquis asked.
“I have just realised that Mr. Westwood will expect everyone to go to Church on Sunday. It was what I intended to do anyway, but I thought it unlikely that you would do so.”
The Marquis thought for a moment.
“I believe in the past my father used to read the lesson,” he said. “That is what I will do on Sunday and I shall expect my guests to be in the family pew.”
Carola gave a little sigh.
“It is just as well you realised that is what Mr. Westwood will expect.”
“That you realised,” the Marquis corrected, “and thank you once again, Carola, for being so helpful.”
He put out his hand as he spoke.
Carola, after a moment’s hesitation, put hers into it.
His fingers closed and he added,
“I never imagined when I asked Peter to help me that he would produce anyone quite like you.”
“You don’t have to be too grateful because I am also grateful to you. It has been very lonely since Mama died with Peter away in London and nobody to talk to but the old servants.”
The Marquis stared at her.
“Are you telling me that you are living alone and without a chaperone to look after you?”
“There is – no one to do – that,” Carola said quickly, “and we would have to pay a chaperone. But honestly, I am really quite happy as long as I have a horse to ride and a book to read.”
“Then all I can say, looking as you do,” the Marquis replied, “it is the most disgraceful waste of beauty and brains I have ever encountered!”
Carola laughed.
Then she said,
“But think how useful they are being to you now. If I had been dancing at every ball in London, you could not have asked me to come to Brox Hall and – pretend to be – your wife.”
“I certainly would not!” the Marquis said. “But I see your reasoning. At the same time I feel it is a question that must be considered in the future.”
“The – future,” Carola replied, “for me – like you – depends entirely on – Mr. Westwood.”
“Then we will both have to do something about it,” the Marquis said firmly.
He moved off the bed as he spoke, still holding her hand.
“Thank you again,” he said, “thank you more than I can put into words.”
His fingers tightened.
She thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her hand.
T
hen, before she could realise what was happening, he bent down and kissed her lips.
It was a very gentle kiss, yet because she had never been kissed before it was a shock.
But also strange and exciting.
She had not expected a man’s lips to be so hard and yet at the same time so possessive.
It was impossible to breathe.
Then the Marquis raised his head and released her hand.
“Goodnight, Carola!” he said. “Sleep well.”
He walked across the room as he spoke, opened the communicating door and left without looking back.
Only as the door closed and she was alone did Carola give a little gasp.
She had been kissed for the first time in her life and by a man she had met only this afternoon.
It was difficult to realise what she felt and impossible to believe that it had actually happened.
She put out the light and snuggled down in the darkness.
Then she told herself that she had asked for an adventure and this was exactly what she was having.
A dramatic unpredictable amazing adventure such as she had never imagined in her wildest dreams.
How could it be possible that she was in Brox Hall, which she had never entered before?
That she was staying not only with the Marquis, but also pretending to be his wife.
What was more – he had kissed her!
She could still feel his lips on hers. It gave her a strange feeling within her breast.
She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.
Whatever happened tomorrow and Sunday, when she went back home again she would always have a great deal to remember.
Especially the Marquis – whose lips had touched hers.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Carola came downstairs for breakfast, she felt shy.
She was wondering how the Marquis would express the affection he had talked to her about last night.
And if he remembered that he had kissed her.
She told herself firmly it was just an expression of gratitude because she was being helpful.
At the same time it seemed a very intimate thing to do and just to think about it made her blush.
She was wearing her riding habit ready to challenge Mary-Lou as they had arranged.
All she had to put on after breakfast was the top hat that her mother had worn when hunting. She knew that her habit, although it was old, was well cut.
She had been careful in tying the starched stock round her neck so that it looked neat and tidy and however much exertion she expended on horseback it would not come undone.
Her father had always said that if there was one thing he really disliked, it was women who had untidy hair when riding.
When she rode with him she had always been particularly careful and her red hair was neatly pinned so that not a single curl escaped.
She opened the dining room door and to her relief the Marquis was not there, nor was the Duke.
The Earl and Lord Durrel were each reading a newspaper as they ate their breakfast and Alton Westwood was also missing.
The two men rose as she entered and smiled at her.
“Good morning!” they both said, and the Earl added,
“I see you are ready for the fray.”
“I am afraid,” Carola replied, “considering how much Miss Westwood has ridden on her father’s ranch in Texas, I shall be ignominiously beaten!”
The two men sat down again and Carola walked to the sideboard to help herself from a long array of dishes.
She thought that even an American would be impressed with the varied assortment of food provided for breakfast, as she chose scrambled eggs and then sat down at the table.
Her mother had told her what was correct in big houses and, although there were many servants to wait at other meals, breakfast was always left for the guests to help themselves.
Her father had added that the very last thing anybody wanted was for people to chatter early in the morning.
Carola therefore did not speak.
She ate her eggs, and spread a piece of toast with Jersey butter, which came from one of the Marquis’s farms and then took a spoonful of comb honey, which she suspected came from the village.
A great number of the villagers in this part of the country kept beehives and her mother had always claimed that it was the reason why they were all so healthy.
Carola was just finishing her second piece of toast when the Marquis came into the room with Alton Westwood.
“Good morning, everybody!” he called out. “We are late, because we have had the most exciting ride and my American guest, believe it or not, approves of my horses!”
Alton Westwood laughed.
“How could I do anything else?” he asked, spreading out his hands.
The Marquis walked to the table.
Putting his hand on Carola’s shoulder, he bent down and kissed her cheek.
“I hope you slept well, my darling,” he said, “I tried to take every precaution so as not to wake you when I went out so early.”
“You were successful,” Carola managed to say.
His lips against her cheek gave her a strange feeling again.
It was what she had felt in her breast when he kissed her lips.
She now found it difficult to appear at ease.
Having kissed her, the Marquis walked to the sideboard.
“I hope you have left me something to eat,” he said, “because I am very hungry.”
“So am I!” Alton Westwood agreed.
They discussed the various dishes, which gave Carola time to compose herself.
However, she was aware that the eyes of the other two men at the tables were twinkling and there was the faint smile that she disliked on the Earl’s lips.
The door opened again and the Duke appeared.
“Good morning,” he said, “and before you reproach me, I admit I am extremely late as, quite frankly, I overslept.”
“The result no doubt of our host’s good wine, vintage port and excellent brandy,” the Earl joked.
Carola finished her breakfast and, as there was no sign of Mary-Lou, she said to Alton Westwood as he sat down,
“I hope your daughter has not forgotten that we have challenged each other over the jumps this morning!”
“You can be quite certain that Mary-Lou has not done that!” Alton Westwood replied. “I expect she is breakfasting in her room.”
Carola was just about to say that she hoped she was not too tired when Alton Westwood explained,
“Mary-Lou has special food for breakfast which she has brought with her from America. I guess she felt embarrassed at eating here and admitting that she preferred it to what our host has provided?”
“Special food?” Carola asked.
“Aw, it’s some fad that my countrymen have now about people not eating the right food to keep them slim and energetic. Personally, I think it’s a lot of balderdash, but American women have gone crackers over it at the moment.”
Carola thought that this was interesting and was determined to talk about it to Mary-Lou.
She had heard about the enormous meals that the Prince of Wales consumed and had read reports in the newspapers of what was provided for guests in smart country houses.
From one newspaper she learnt that besides six or seven courses at luncheon there was an average of ten at dinner.
Also the Prince of Wales enjoyed a lobster tea and, when His Royal Highness was shooting, a snack consisting of turtle soup and pâté was served at midday.
‘No wonder he and his friends are fat,’ Carola thought to herself. ‘If the Americans eat the right food to keep thin, they are certainly very sensible.’
However, the chef the Marquis had brought down from London had obviously been taught that ‘rich and plenty’ must describe every meal.
Now Carola thought about it, there had certainly been seven courses at dinner last night not including the dessert, which had included hu
ge hothouse peaches, large Muscat grapes and a varied selection of other fruit.
There had also been Sèvres dishes filled with nuts for the gentlemen to eat with their port.
This might she thought, be all right for those who were riding all day or taking other sorts of energetic exercise, but for those who were old or lazy, it must be extremely bad for them.
She rose from the table saying to Alton Westwood,
“I will go to see if Mary-Lou is ready.”
The Marquis, who had just sat down, advised Carola,
“Do that, dearest, but remember, you are not to do too much and if you feel tired we will call the event off at once.”
“I will be careful,” Carola promised.
He smiled at her.
Then, as he realised that she was leaving, he jumped up to open the door.
“As soon as you are ready,” he said, “I will be waiting to help you both choose the best horses in the stable.”
“Yes, please do so,” Carola answered.
She now smiled at him.
He put out his arm to pull her for a moment against him.
“You are looking very lovely this morning,” he said. He had lowered his voice as if he was speaking for her ears alone.
Yet Carola was well aware that everybody in the dining room could hear what he was saying.
She slipped away from him and he closed the door.
As she walked quickly along the passage towards the hall, she was aware that once again she was blushing.
Carola found Mary-Lou dressing and she was astonished at what she was wearing.
It was a divided skirt made in Mexican fashion with a fringe down the side of each leg and round the hem.
The fringes on the jacket matched it and with it Mary-Lou wore a white blouse with a pattern of green leaves on it.
Carola had seen pictures of this type of riding-gear, but she had never encountered it before.
“My, but don’t you look smart and all dressed up!” Mary-Lou exclaimed as Carola stared at her.
“I was thinking the same about you!” Carola laughed.
“Aw – this!” Mary-Lou said, “It’s what I wear on Poppa’s ranch and it’s more comfortable for jumping than anything you have on.”
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