THE WATERS OF LOVE
BARBARA CARTLAND
Barbaracartland.com Ltd
Copyright © 2008 by Cartland Promotions First published on the internet in March 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.
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THE WATERS OF LOVE
The Marquis had never noticed how large and lovely her eyes were, but now that they were so close to him he could not avoid their impact.
“Lexia - ” he started uncertainly. “I want to - ”
“What?” she whispered.
No more words would come. His heart was thundering and the world seemed to be turning about him and suddenly he was unsure of everything that had been so clear earlier.
Gradually he began lowering his head.
She did not reach up to him, but neither did she pull away. She seemed transfixed, her eyes gazing into his as though she was waiting - hoping - for something.
In another moment his lips would touch hers.
And then reality burst in, shattering the pleasant dream that had been slowly enveloping him.
This was a betrayal.
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Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.
Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are already being published and by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the international web is the best possible way of reaching so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.
The 160 books are 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 Barbara Cartland Pink Collection and the Barbara Cartland Audio Books to the following address :
Barbara Cartland.com Ltd.
Camfield Place,
Hatfield,
Hertfordshire AL9 6JE United Kingdom.
Telephone:+44 (0)1707 642629
Fax:+44 (0)1707 663041
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 by Love
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
31. The Richness of Love
32. For Ever and Ever
33. An Unexpected Love
34. Saved by an Angel
35. Touching the Stars
36. Seeking Love
37. Journey to Love
38. The Importance of Love
39. Love by the Lake
40. A Dream Come True
41. The King without a Heart
42. The Waters 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.
“Love knows no barriers, accepts no obstacles, recognises no reverse and is always resplendent in its own glory.”
Barbara Cartland
CHAPTER ONE
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1898
It was a high fence but the horse took it easily, landing lightly on the other side and causing the rider to break into a smile.
“Well done, old fellow,” he said, patting the animal’s great neck.
Man and horse were pleasant to behold, both handsome, both in the prime of their youth and vigour.
Francis, Marquis of Wimborton, took a ride every morning at this time, enjoying the beauties of his vast estate, which was considerable, as it was one of the largest
in Berkshire. He owned farms, houses for rent and even a village.
From here the view was glorious, a vista of trees and lawns with the glint of water in the distance. Far off he could see cottages, their thatched roofs looking cosy and welcoming.
But in his heart he knew that the cheerful appearance was a sham. His estate was in a state of decay because the rents he received were not enough to keep it in good condition. The thatched roofs that looked so fine at a distance were mostly in need of repair.
His own house too required a good deal of work, but he was too much in debt even to think about it.
Suddenly the brightness of the morning seemed to have darkened. His exhilarated mood of a moment earlier vanished and he began to canter home.
At twenty-eight, good-looking, charming and titled, Francis, Marquis of Wimborton, seemed blessed with life’s bounties.
But his existence had become an unremitting fight to raise enough money to keep his estate in good order and he was losing the battle.
Having come into his inheritance when he was only eighteen, he had found it extremely difficult to run and somehow his obligations always outran his income.
Every day it seemed to him he was inundated by requests from people on his estate to help restore their houses, their farms or their stables.
Because he had no wish to admit he was a failure, he had somehow to find the money, even if it was only a little of what they asked of him.
But it simply put him deeper in debt and that debt was growing like a cloud, spoiling the horizon.
He left his horse in the stables and entered the house to be met by his butler with the words,
“Mr. Johnson’s here to see you, my Lord.”
The Marquis was silent for a moment before he said,
“Show him into the smoking room and tell him I will be with him in a few minutes.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
When the butler had departed, the Marquis groaned to himself. He guessed why his accountant had come to see him and it certainly would not be good news.
Mr. Johnson was a middle-aged man who had looked after him ever since he inherited the estate.
He was waiting for him as he entered the smoking room.
“Good morning, Johnson,” the Marquis greeted him. “I was not expecting you and I hope this surprise visit is not going to be a gloomy one.”
He held out his hand as he spoke and Mr. Johnson shook it before he replied.
“I am afraid, as usual, my Lord, I do not bring good news.”
“I thought that was too much to ask of you,” the Marquis answered with a smile.
He sat down hard in the chair he always occupied. The accountant, whose office was in London and who had therefore made a special journey, sat down opposite him and regarded the Marquis with sympathy.
He had come so young to his responsibilities and Mr. Johnson had thought he would have preferred to stay in London.
Or perhaps he should be abroad enjoying himself with pretty and attractive women, rather than being alone in this huge house and having little to amuse him except the horses and the estate.
To his surprise, however, the Marquis had taken possession of his inheritance when his father died unexpectedly, as if it was not only his duty but a pleasure.
The Marquis smiled at the man opposite. It was not his fault that he had a tale of woe to tell.
With a sigh, Mr. Johnson began to talk. And it was, indeed, a depressing story of mounting debts, inadequate rents, and of problems growing worse every day.
After an hour the Marquis sighed,
“I cannot believe that things are really as bad as this.”
“I am afraid they are, my Lord, and I can assure you that I would not have come down from London to upset you unless it was urgent to do something.”
“That’s all very well,” said the Marquis. “I agree with you there is a great deal to be done, especially now that the repairs to this house are three times more than I expected.”
“And not only to this house, my Lord. There are at least six houses on the estate which need urgent work, otherwise the tenants may begin to withhold their rent.”
The Marquis rose to his feet and walked to the window.
“Why has all this happened so suddenly, Johnson?”
“It’s hardly sudden, my Lord. The seeds were planted a long time ago. Your father was told what was required but he, unfortunately, did as little as possible and matters have just grown worse.”
“What the devil can I do?” demanded the Marquis.
“I don’t want to seem intrusive, my Lord, but have you ever thought, with your title and your position, you might marry an heiress?”
“Marriage!” exclaimed the Marquis.” I’ve never thought of it chiefly I suppose because I have never fallen in love.”
There was silence for a moment and then the accountant said as if talking to himself,
“It seems odd, when you have so many advantages and so many ladies have – shall we say? – expressed an interest, that you have not found even one to suit you.”
The Marquis did not reply, but merely smiled as he stood at the window, looking out blindly at the fountain playing in the sunlight.
His success in Society had always been assured. His title had brought him an invitation to every important ball.
Even without the title he would have been in demand, as he was a true Wimborton, last of a race of tall, broad- shouldered men with handsome looks and dark red hair.
He had inherited these attributes and also a mysterious ‘presence’, an air of pride in his ancestry and in himself. His appearance in a room was the signal for heads to turn, especially female heads.
Even women who knew nothing of his title could not help smiling at the sight of him, while knowledgeable dowagers hurried to introduce him to the debutantes.
He was not conceited, but he had come to take it for granted that he would be welcome anywhere in London Society.
But somehow, although he had danced with the prettiest girls of the year and been invited a dozen times by their parents to luncheon or dinner parties, he had never met a girl with whom he had wanted to spend the rest of his life.
He had in fact found the actresses most amusing who his men friends introduced him to. And, of course, they made him realise how pleasant love-making could be when a brilliant actress melted into his arms and agreed to anything he desired.
But he knew that this was only a passing amusement, which he shared with his friends. After the moment had passed, it was easy to forget until it occurred again.
Standing at the window now he remembered these affairs, so enjoyable at the time, but fleeting pleasure soon forgotten.
Marriage, on the other hand, was something serious, which would last for a lifetime.
At last he sighed and turned back to Mr. Johnson.
“You will think me unreasonable no doubt, but the thought of marrying for money disgusts me.”
“I am very, very sorry, my Lord,” he replied. “But it is my duty to tell you the position frankly and at the moment it is extremely bad.”
There was silence and then the Marquis said ironically,
“I suppose you have even chosen the woman.”
The accountant smiled.
“Indeed I have, my Lord.”
“Tell me the worst.”
“Miss Lexia Drayton.”
The Marquis stared, as Mr. Johnson clearly expected this name to mean something, but he could swear that he had never heard it before.
“I beg your pardon?” he said blankly.
“She and her father moved into Highcliffe Hall last month.”
Highcliffe was a large, well-appointed house on the estate and which was in better repair than anywhere else on his property and the Marquis had kept it that way to be sure of securing a tenant who could afford to pay a high rent.
The previous tenant had always paid willingly, delighted with the property, but his wife had died and he had
gone to live with his married daughter in Scotland.
It had been a matter of urgency to find a new tenant, but Mr. Johnson had handled it and the Marquis had not yet met Mr. Drayton.
“You were in London when they moved in,” Mr. Johnson told him. “I am told that Mr. Drayton is enormously rich, in fact, a millionaire three or four times over.”
The Marquis stared at him again.
“On my land? A millionaire?” he exclaimed.
“I understand he has been in America and only arrived in England a month or so ago. He owns a large house in the most fashionable part of London, but wanted a country property.
“Is he English?” enquired the Marquis.
“Yes, he is English,” replied Mr. Johnson, “but he went to America and made a fortune there, so much so that he could afford to buy a house in Park Lane and is also purchasing horses at Tattersall’s, which he intends to hunt and to race. I understand that Mr. Drayton has only one child – a very attractive daughter, who will inherit his huge fortune.”
After a long silence the Marquis muttered,
“So this, you think, is the solution to my problem.”
“Why not, my Lord? If he is as rich as everyone says and has only this one child, it seems to me it is a gift from the Gods.”
The Marquis laughed.
“Are you really serious? The daughter of a millionaire must have her pick of men.”
“I believe she had her pick of them in America, but her father wants an Englishman for her, preferably one with a title.”
“I see,” smiled the Marquis wryly.
“My Lord, this is no time to be splitting hairs. She has what you need, and you have what her father wants. May I suggest that your Lordship calls on Mr. Drayton as soon as possible, otherwise there are many others who will go knocking at her door. If she cannot win a Marquis she may well settle for something less.”
After a pause the Marquis threw back his head laughing,
“I don’t believing this is happening! I just don’t believe you are standing there having this conversation with me. Are you really saying that a millionaire has chosen to rent one of my houses simply so that his daughter can meet me? It’s incredible.”
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