The Race For Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “I will give you a house on the estate, Miss Blair, and I will pay you the wage I think you are worth, which is a very high one, if you will terminate your employment with the Duke and come and work for me.”

  Alita was so astonished that she could only stare at him wide-eyed and then finally she said,

  “No – no – it’s very – kind of you – but I cannot – do that.”

  “Why not?”

  There was a hard note in his voice and she knew that it was the usual prelude to a battle in which he was determined to have his own way.

  She thought wildly what she should say.

  “The – the Duke is – is my – Guardian,” she said at length, a little incoherently. “When my – father died – I was left in his – care.”

  “Your Guardian!” Clint Wilbur exclaimed in surprise. “He seems a strange sort of Guardian to me, Miss Blair, seeing the way he lets you dress and the way you work apparently without any recompense.”

  “It – it’s – an arrangement that I – cannot break.”

  “Nonsense!” Clint Wilbur retorted. “You are entitled to live your life as you wish to do and, seeing how you care so well for the horses you have trained for him, I cannot believe that you would not be happier continuing with them than starting again from scratch.”

  He paused for a moment as if he was thinking.

  Then he went on,

  “I have already decided to extend my activities and I shall require much bigger stables for the horses I intend to buy.”

  He knew that Alita was listening to him intently as he went on,

  “So far we have concentrated on steeplechasing, but why should I not enter for the flat races? I have rather set my heart on winning the Derby!”

  Alita drew in her breath.

  Then, with a smile which she felt almost hypnotised her, he added,

  “I need your help and your advice to make me sure of being first past the Winning Post.”

  Alita had an incredible feeling that if they could do it together it would be possible.

  Then with an effort she said,

  “I am sorry – more sorry than I can – say, that I have to – do as the Duke – wishes.”

  “And suppose I will not let you?” Clint Wilbur asked.

  She did not answer and his voice was suddenly angry as he said,

  “Must you always be so obstinate and try to prevent me from getting what I want? I need your help. I want to buy horses, dozens of horses, I want to breed from them to build up a racing stable that will rival any I have seen or heard about in this country. Dammit, most women would be thrilled to be offered such an assignment! Why should you be the one exception?”

  There was a note of anger in his voice that seemed to Alita to vibrate round the room and through her.

  Then the pain that had been in her breast ever since her uncle had raged at her at breakfast time and the unhappiness that she had felt because she knew that she had to obey him, seemed to intensify.

  Her whole body was filled with the pain of it.

  Suddenly everything blurred and darkness seemed to seep over her, as with a little incoherent murmur, she put out her hand to save herself from falling.

  Even as she was lost in a kind of terrifying oblivion she felt strong arms lift her and she found herself lying on the sofa with her head against a silk cushion.

  She then thought that she was alone and that he had left her because he was angry, but then he came from a corner of the room carrying a glass in his hand.

  He put his arm round her shoulders, lifted her head, and held a glass to her lips.

  “Drink this.”

  Vaguely, as if through a mist, she obeyed him and felt a fire beginning to seep down her throat. Putting up her hand weakly, she tried to push away the glass.

  “No – ”

  “A little more,” he insisted.

  Because it was impossible to refuse to do what he wished, she sipped a little more of the brandy and felt it searing through her. And then the darkness began to disappear.

  “When did you last have something to eat?” Clint Wilbur asked.

  With an effort Alita tried to think.

  She had not eaten her breakfast because her uncle was being angry with her and she remembered that last night when everybody had gone out, she had been forgotten and it had been too much trouble to go to the kitchen and find something for herself.

  “I-I am all – right.”

  “That is not what I asked you,” Clint Wilbur said. “I am sure that because you were upset by the Duke you had no breakfast.”

  She was surprised that he should be so perceptive where she was concerned.

  He set her head back gently on the cushion and walked to the fireplace to ring the bell.

  A servant opened the door a few seconds later.

  “I want breakfast for Miss Blair,” Clint Wilbur said sharply. “Coffee and dishes that can be prepared quickly.”

  “Very good, sir!”

  The footman closed the door and hurried away.

  Clint Wilbur moved back to the sofa to stand looking down at Alita.

  Her hat had fallen off when he carried her to the sofa and, when he had left her to ring the bell, she had shut her eyes fighting against her weakness and feeling that she was floating away from reality.

  Now she looked up at him and said,

  “I am – sorry to be – so foolish.”

  “It is very foolish to go without food,” he said severely, “especially when you have been working so many hours already.”

  “I – know.”

  “If you work for me, I promise I shall make it a condition that you have three good meals a day and to make quite certain that you do so I will even provide them.”

  He spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice and Alita thought thankfully that he was obviously no longer angry.

  “Now that I look at you,” he went on, “I realise that you are much too thin. What on earth do you gain by working yourself to the bone?”

  “S-someone has to – look after the – horses,” Alita murmured, feeling that he was waiting for an answer.

  “So the willing horse takes on the whole burden,” Clint Wilbur said cynically. “But you will be no help to anybody if you starve yourself into the grave.”

  “I shall not do – that,” Alita said with a smile. “It was only this – morning because I was – upset to think I could not – come here anymore.”

  “You want to come?”

  “You – know I do.”

  “Then let me talk to the Duke.”

  The suggestion made her struggle to sit upright.

  “No – no – of course not! You must – not do that. Promise me you will – not do that!”

  “If he is a proper sort of Guardian, he will realise that it would be to your advantage,” he said slowly.

  “Promise me you will not – speak to him about – me,” Alita begged. “He would be angry – not with you but with – me and it would make things more – difficult than they are – already.”

  “Why should they be difficult?”

  “I cannot explain – and please don’t – try to – make me.”

  There was something pathetic in the way Alita pleaded with him.

  She saw on his face an expression that she did not understand, before he turned away to stand with his back to her, looking down into the fire.

  He did not speak for a long time and Alita looked at him anxiously, perturbed by his silence and yet afraid to say anything herself in case she should make the situation worse.

  It was a great relief when the door opened and servants came in carrying a small table covered with a white linen cloth, which they set down near the fireplace.

  Then other things appeared almost like magic, coffee in a silver pot with a jug of thick cream to add to it, covered dishes containing eggs and freshly baked hot rolls and bread with golden butter made from Jersey cream.

  As Alita rose a little unstea
dily to walk to the chair beside the table, she thought that it would be embarrassing if, after all the trouble she had caused, she was unable to eat anything.

  But, after she had drunk a little coffee, she suddenly felt hungry and knew that it was the stimulus of the brandy that had brought back her appetite.

  While she ate, Clint Wilbur sat on the red leather-covered fireguard seat, which was like one Alita remembered her father had used to have in his smoking room at home.

  She always thought that there was something cosy about a man sitting in front of the fire, ‘warming his tail’ as she had heard someone describe it.

  She thought with a sudden contraction of her heart that perhaps this would be the last time she would ever be in such a situation and never again with a man as attractive as Clint Wilbur.

  As she finished her hot roll spread with homemade marmalade, she said,

  “I am – ashamed of my – behaviour. At the same time I cannot remember when I have enjoyed a meal as much as this one.”

  “You are very easily pleased” Clint Wilbur answered. “The ladies I usually entertain demand caviar and champagne.”

  “At this moment I can think of nothing more delicious than eggs and marmalade,” Alita smiled.

  “Are you strong enough to return to the subject that upset you?” he enquired.

  “N-no,” she answered, “Please don’t – say anymore. There is nothing I can do – nothing – and I can only beg of you to be – understanding.”

  “That is what I want to be,” he said, “but you give me nothing to understand.”

  She looked unhappy and he said,

  “You leave me feeling more frustrated than I have ever been before. Problems are something I can cope with. Obstacles are only there for me to demolish them. But secrecy and silence are something quite different.”

  He paused and then unexpectedly he put out his hand towards her.

  “Trust me with whatever it is that is so obviously worrying you and let me see if I can unravel the puzzle that is too difficult for you alone.”

  There was something in his voice and the kindness in his expression and his outstretched hand that made the tears come into Alita’s eyes.

  She told herself that it was because she was unused to kindness, because no one ever talked to her like that nowadays and it was years since anyone had tried to help her.

  Then, as she looked up at Clint Wilbur with the tears making it difficult to see him clearly, she found that everything that she wanted to say had died away on her lips.

  “Trust me,” he said again very quietly and somehow, she was not certain how it happened, her hand was in his.

  She felt a little tremor go through her because he was touching her. It was something that she could not explain. It was almost like quicksilver running through her body.

  “I want – to,” she said in a very low voice in answer to his plea. “I want to – trust you – but I cannot do so because it is not my secret – but I shall always remember how – kind you have been to me – and how happy I have been here.”

  His fingers tightened on hers and she thought that he was like a lifeline, holding her up and sustaining her when she was sinking.

  Then, with an almost superhuman effort, she told herself that she had to be sensible, she had to face reality – she had to go away.

  She was not certain if he drew her to her feet or if she rose by her own volition.

  She only knew that she was standing beside him while he was still sitting on the fireguard seat.

  He looked at her for a long moment and then he said,

  “I think you have been through enough this morning. Go back to The Castle and for God’s sake leave those horses to fend for themselves for once. Lie down and take things easy. We will talk about everything tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she asked.

  There was a twist to his lips as he replied,

  “The Duke expressly invited me to use his Racecourse whenever I wished.”

  She felt as if the sun had suddenly come out He was not angry and she would see him again early in the morning and, even if she could not come to Marshfield House, they would be together as they rode over the jumps.

  As if he understood what she was thinking, he said gently,

  “Go home and do as I say.”

  “You are – not angry?”

  She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.

  “Not with you.”

  She looked round the library because she was seeing it for the last time.

  It was such a lovely room and now she thought that she would never be able to borrow the books, so what they contained would always be hidden from her.

  Clint Wilbur picked up her hat from the floor and held it out to her.

  “Stop worrying,” he said. “Things have a way of solving themselves, especially when I am prodding them from behind.”

  “That is – something you – must not do,” Alita replied, but she did not speak very positively.

  Clint Wilbur did not answer.

  He only opened the door and they walked slowly through the house towards the door at the far end that was nearest to the stables.

  As they went, Alita kept thinking,

  ‘This is the last time – the last time – ’

  She felt as if even their footsteps echoed the words.

  They passed the Green Salon and she wanted to ask if she could go in for one moment and look at Turner’s sunrise over the mantelpiece.

  Then she told herself that Clint Wilbur would not understand that she wanted to say ‘goodbye’ to it

  It might even increase his determination to force her into leaving The Castle and coming to work for him.

  She could imagine nothing more marvellous or more perfect than to accept his offer to help him increase his stable and buy and breed horses that would win the great races of the turf.

  Then she told herself that only an American would think of anything so absurd. Women did not have such a position in England and she of all women could not accept such a situation.

  They reached the stables and, as soon as she appeared, a groom brought Flamingo from one of the stalls.

  Clint Wilbur patted the horse’s neck.

  “At least he has no problems,” he said when Alita was ready to move off.

  “On the contrary,” she replied, with an effort to answer him lightly. “Flamingo is studying his cues and is – quite determined to steal the limelight and all the applause.”

  “I am certain he will,” Clint Wilbur answered as lightly as she had spoken. “Will you ask him whether he prefers a bouquet of carrots or a basket of apples?”

  “I feel quite certain that, being so greedy, he will expect both!” Alita replied and Clint Wilbur was laughing as she rode away.

  She did not look back or she would have known that his eyes were following her as she rode out of the stable yard and across the Park.

  She was moving swiftly under the great oak trees as if she must make up for lost time by getting back to The Castle as quickly as possible.

  Chapter Five

  Riding towards Marshfield House on Sunday afternoon, Alita was so excited that she felt as if she could fly there through the air.

  It hardly seemed possible that so much had happened in a week.

  She shied away like a horse from the thought that, when tonight was over, everything would go back to the way it had been before Clint Wilbur came into her life.

  She knew that he had not pressed her to defy the Duke and go to Marshfield House because he was aware that it would upset her.

  When she had gone home the day after she had ignominiously fainted, she had thought that even though he had said that he would see her in the morning, he might still be resentful at her refusal to tell him what he wished to know.

  She had gone to the Racecourse apprehensively the next morning and had at first thought that her worst fears were realised and he was no longer interested in her.

&n
bsp; When as time passed and she had already taken one horse over the jumps and there was still no sign of him, she felt such an agony of disappointment that it seemed to her as if the whole world was dark and there was nothing for her now or in the future.

  Then with a leap of her heart she could see him riding through the trees and saw with surprise that he was not alone.

  She had been standing with the horses, which she had brought out to exercise, as Clint Wilbur came towards her with another man riding beside him, who she realised rode in very much the same way as he did.

  The newcomer was also tall and, as they drew nearer, Alita saw that he was dressed in a somewhat eccentric manner.

  The cut of his coat and his riding breeches and the large-brimmed hat he wore on his head were certainly not conventional attire for an Englishman.

  Clint Wilbur dismounted.

  “Good morning, Miss Blair!” he said. “I’ve brought a friend with me who is very anxious to meet you.”

  The man who accompanied him swung himself from the saddle and Clint Wilbur continued,

  “Let me introduce Mr. Burt Ackberg. I feel that there is no need for me to explain that he also is from Texas.”

  If she had not known it by his appearance, Alita would have found the Texas accent unmistakable.

  “Howdy, ma’am!” he said, lifting his wide-brimmed hat. “I’m mighty glad to make your acquaintance!”

  “Burt,” Clint Wilbur interposed before Alita could speak, “will be the leading man in our show on Sunday night. He is one of the best riders I have ever seen in my life and he does some fancy tricks on a horse that I feel sure will delight our audience.”

  “You sure flatter me, Clint!” Burt Ackberg protested, “And the little lady’ll think I’m a regular show-off.”

  “Which is exactly what you are!” Clint Wilbur said as he laughed. “And that is what Miss Blair and I require to make the evening a success.”

  The two men did not waste much time in talking.

  Burt Ackberg inspected the horses and was undoubtedly impressed with them.

  He rode over the jumps in a manner that told Alita that Clint Wilbur had not exaggerated in praising his friend’s horsemanship.

  Then Clint Wilbur turned to Alita,

  “I have a new idea for racing that I would like to suggest to you.”