THE HEART OF LOVE
“Merci beaucoup, monsieur,” Verena thanked him, clutching her makeshift map to her breast. “Merci, mille fois.”
She left the shop feeling light of heart. So light, in fact, that she failed to notice the shadowy figure creeping around the corner of a nearby alleyway –
Verena looked at her map one more time and sighed,
‘Now, if I can find the monument, then the docks should be not far away.’
She did not know what it was that made her quicken her pace – perhaps it was some sixth sense – but she suddenly had the distinct feeling once more of being followed.
Her heart beat faster as she ran through the streets, trying to shake off her pursuer.
A thousand thoughts were streaming through her mind. Was it a criminal who followed her? A madman with a knife?
Suddenly, a man grabbed her from behind, his hand clamped fast over her mouth as he dragged her into a dark alley. As he pulled her backwards, Verena could see that the road ahead opened out into the docks.
“Very clever, young lady. Very clever indeed,” came a hissing voice.
Verena tried to struggle, but the man held her tight in his grip.
THE HEART OF LOVE
BARBARA CARTLAND
www.barbaracartland.com
Copyright © 2007 by Cartland Promotions
First published on the internet in January 2008 by Barbaracartland.com
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.
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THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION
Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.
She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.
Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.
Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.
The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.
The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.
The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.
If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :
Barbara Cartland.com Ltd.
240 High Road,
Harrow Weald,
Harrow
HA3 7BB
United Kingdom.
Telephone & fax: +44 (0)20 8863 2520
Titles in this series
1. The Cross of Love
2. Love in the Highlands
3. Love Finds the Way
4. The Castle of Love
5. Love is Triumphant
6. Stars in the Sky
7. The Ship of Love
8. A Dangerous Disguise
9. Love Became Theirs
10. Love Drives In
11. Sailing to Love
12. The Star of Love
13. Music is the Soul of Love
14. Love in the East
15. Theirs to Eternity
16. A Paradise on Earth
17. Love Wins in Berlin
18. In Search of Love
19. Love Rescues Rosanna
20. A Heart in Heaven
21. The House of Happiness
22. Royalty Defeated byLove
23. The White Witch
24. They Sought Love
25. Love is the Reason for Living
26. They Found Their Way to Heaven
27. Learning to Love
28. Journey to Happiness
29. A Kiss in the Desert
30. The Heart of Love
THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND
Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.
Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.
Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.
In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.
Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.
“Nothing can be more modern and up-to-date than love and fidelity between one man to one woman.”
Barbara Cartland
CHAPTER ONE
-
1897
Lady Verena Rosslyn gazed at her reflection in the ornate French dressing table mirror and sighed. The image pleased her – a young, attractive, heart-shaped face framed by masses of dark hair, punctuated by a full mouth the colour of crushed strawberries.
As she searched her deep blue eyes, she noticed a certain wistfulness about them.
Of course, she always carried a degree of sadness within her heart, having lost her mother some six years ago when she was just fifteen but no, it was more than that.
There was a longing within the depths, but for what she could not say.
As she was musing over the possibilities, there came a sharp knockin
g at her bedroom door.
“Enter,” she said in a voice that was soft and melodious. So like her mother’s, as her father, the Earl of Bradchester, had often told her.
“His Lordship wishes to speak to you, my Lady.” Violet her maid was standing in the doorway looking nervous, “and he says you are to come right away.”
‘I wonder what it is that Papa finds so pressing?’ muttered Verena to herself, as she rose from the dressing table and smoothed down her hair. She liked to wear it loose even though her father had said that it was unseemly for a young woman of twenty-one. ‘I do hope it is not bad news.’
She swept along the hall to the magnificent staircase of Rosslyn Hall.
The house had been in the family for generations but had barely changed during her lifetime. Her mother, as a young bride, had taken responsibility for the décor and had spared no expense in creating a comfortable home fit for a family.
Sadly, Verena was the only child and the house had remained the same as a tribute to her mother.
Verena stroked the brass beehive knob on the door of her father’s study for a second and then knocked twice.
Opening the mahogany panelled door, she could see the Earl engrossed at his desk.
“You wanted to see me urgently, Papa?” she asked of the still handsome man in his fifties, sitting hunched over some papers.
“Ah, Verena, dearest. I wanted to let you know that I will be going to London to stay in our Hertford Street house for a while. There are some matters that require my attention.”
Verena did not dare ask him what they might be. She knew that what her father did in his business life was no concern of hers.
“Don’t look so worried,” he continued kindly. “There is just one trifle that needs to be dealt with. And whilst I am in London, I thought I might visit my sister, Lady Armstrong, in Regent’s Park. Her husband has been ill for some time and it would please her to see a friendly face.”
“Papa, how long will you be gone for?”
Verena hated to be parted from her father like this. After her mother had died, he had slid into a deep depression for almost two years, and even now, there was the occasional day when he was silent and cold.
“You will surely become lonely in London without any company.”
“I will have that aplenty, my dearest. There will be much to occupy me. Please do not worry about me. Now, tell me how you intend to spend your time whilst I am away. There is that fine, black stallion in the stables to exercise that I bought recently. I’ll warrant that once you acquaint yourself with him, you will hardly notice I have gone.”
“Oh, Papa, how can you say that,” she cried, throwing herself to her knees at his feet.
Tenderly, he stroked Verena’s soft dark hair and whispered,
“So like your mother – ” in a voice that was choked with emotion.
“Now, leave me, I have preparations to make. I will be back before long and perchance I may bring a surprise for you.”
Verena rose from her knees, her eyes shining.
“A new hat – please, Papa. Something in the latest French style.”
“We will see, dearest, we will see. The time will fly, I promise you.”
*
The Rosslyn estate stretched for many miles into the heart of the Hampshire countryside. It was rightly famous for its superb stables that housed several Arab racehorses amongst others. The Earl loved racing as much as he enjoyed hunting, pursuits he had returned to only recently after his long, dark days of mourning.
Verena ran through the courtyard to the stables – Barker the groom was walking slowly along leading an old bay mare.
“I see that Bess has just been groomed,” commented Verena, smiling fondly with her hand outstretched towards the mare.
“Don’t you be feeding ’er sugar lumps,” grumbled Barker, who had been in the service of her mother long before she had wed. He had watched Verena grow from a toddler to the comely young lady who now stood in front of him.
“Is Jet ready?” enquired Verena eagerly.
She had taken the feisty beast out every day since her father’s departure – she loved the challenge of controlling Jet’s wilful personality and it took her mind off her father’s absence.
In spite of a few brief but loving notes, she had received hardly any news of him. All she knew was that her aunt’s husband was feeling much better and that she, Lady Armstong, had dragged the Earl out to many fine balls.
“Here, my Lady,” said Barker, leading Bess away, “Roper will bring Jet out for you. Mind how you go now, that strong will of his would get the better of a man twice your size.”
“Jet and I have become firm friends,” answered Verena, confidently. “When Papa returns he will be most impressed with how I have learned to handle him.”
Jet was indeed an exciting ride – he snorted and pawed the ground, whinnying shrilly, his teeth worrying at the bit.
Later, as Verena rode Jet to the top of the hill that overlooked the estate, she was once again filled with longing.
‘I feel as if my life has yet to begin,’ she told herself, as Jet strained at the reins. ‘There is something missing that I really cannot find here, much as I love this place.’
Digging her heels hard into Jet’s side, the magnificent stallion took off like the wind. Verena’s long, dark hair streamed out behind her and the sun beat down on her back as the pair made their way across the fields back to the stables.
*
Arriving tired and dusty back at Rosslyn Hall, Verena was greeted by the sight of Barker, hobbling towards her and waving his arms.
“Barker, what is it?”
“It’s my Lord, the Earl, he’s back! He’s been asking for you since midday. We thought of sending out for you, but none of us knew where you’d be – or how far away you’d got. Looks like this rascal took you through the old quarry judging by the look of you both.”
Verena dismounted. True enough, her riding habit was covered in white dust. Her long, green skirt was now grey and she did not care to think what her hair or face must have looked like.
‘Now I must find my father. How strange that he did not send word about his arrival today. I would have made sure that the Hall was spotless with everything just how he likes it. I do hope the maids have aired his bed.’
Verena hurried towards the house, banging her skirt as she ran, sending clouds of dust over the gravel. As she mounted the steps at the front of the hall, she noticed that two footmen were bringing in great piles of packages and suitcases.
‘How curious,’ said Verena to herself. ‘Either Papa has been exceedingly generous buying gifts for me in London or he has returned with some visitors. Surely there is too much luggage for just one person?’ She approached one of the footmen, desperate to know what was going on.
“Markyate, has his Lordship brought back visitors from London?”
“Sorry, my Lady, I couldn’t say.”
‘This is a pretty puzzle indeed,’ she mused, ‘but I am sure that presently, I will find out the answer.’
Just then, Oakes the butler appeared in front of her.
“His Lordship wishes to see you in the drawing room, my Lady. He asked me to tell you as soon as you arrived back from your ride.”
‘Well, now we will solve this mystery. I do hope Papa is on his own, I would hate for anyone to see me in such disarray.’
Moving quickly towards the drawing room, Verena felt strangely nervous, almost as if she sensed a presentiment that something unpleasant was going to happen.
She opened the double doors and saw immediately that her father was standing with his back to her, gazing out of the window across the park.
“Papa – ” she began, “it grieves me to greet you in such a dishevelled state, but had I known of your arrival, I would surely have returned from my ride much sooner.”
As her father turned, his demeanour strangely stiff and uncomfortable, she was suddenly aware that there was another person in the
room. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a slight figure on the sofa by the fireplace.
“Ah, Verena, dearest. I am so pleased to see you. A month away from Rosslyn and you is a month too long. However, matters required attention.”
The Earl seemed not to be himself. Verena could not take her eyes off him as she searched his face, fruitlessly, for some sign of affection.
He made a rough gesture in the direction of the sofa.
Verena followed his hand and saw that a woman, neither young nor old, with a wide, haughty face was ensconced there, wearing an expression of utter confidence.
Again, her father waved in the strange woman’s direction.
“There is someone I wish you to meet.”
Verena looked questioningly again at her father, an uncomfortable feeling spreading throughout her frame.
“This, dearest, is Lady Louisa Middleton-Jones, my new wife. I trust you will be most welcoming to her and will show her around Rosslyn Hall. It would please me greatly if you would now go and kiss your new stepmother.”
Verena stared in utter disbelief at her father.
How could he do this – request that she act towards this woman as she would to only a dear relative!
The word, stepmother, sounded ominous to her. She had but one mother and she was in her grave. Blood pounded in her temples as she tried to remain calm.
“Papa, I will afford Lady Louisa the proper courtesies as befitting a guest in this house, but with the deepest respect, please do not ask me to behave as a daughter to a complete stranger.”
The Earl’s face grew deep red with anger.
“Do you defy me? It is a simple request, daughter. I wish you to make your stepmother feel welcome in my house. And if I choose to ask you to kiss her, then kiss her you will! Do not make me angry – I have brought her here to be as a mother to you and to provide me with an heir and you with brothers. She has done me the honour of becoming my wife and now you will do me the honour of complying with my wishes without further comment.”
For a few seconds, Verena remained frozen to the spot. Never had her father spoken to her in this harsh fashion and she could not understand what possessed him.
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