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Authors: Barbara Cartland

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BOOK: Love is Triumphant
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"I like her very well, but we see things differently. She is more impressed by great titles than I am, and she would regard my wish to marry a poor, honest man as madness."

Something impelled Rosina to say,

"But she is interested in Sir John, who does not have a great title."

"But he is exceedingly good looking," Lady Doreen teased.

"I disagree. I think his looks are no more than ordinary."

"Well, I can tell you that Miss Holden thinks he is extraordinarily handsome."

"Then Miss Holden is welcome to him," Rosina said. "But she should be aware that he is a mere knight, as my Mama would say."

Lady Doreen's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Oh ho! Your Mama is afraid that you will make a match with him."

"I – don't know what you mean," Rosina said, confounded.

"She is trying to put you off him. She plans something more exalted for you. But what are
your
wishes? A woman should have her own ideas at all times, otherwise she is in a poor position to counter her parents' schemes."

"I agree," Rosina said firmly.

"So do tell me, my dear friend. What are your plans? Oh forgive me, I was forgetting. You are not out. You have yet to look around you."

"That's true," Rosina said with relief. "My debut will be in a few weeks."

"And then all the young men will flock around you, and you can make your own choice. We will strike Sir John off the list – "

"He was never
on
my list," Rosina insisted.

"Well, we'll strike him off anyway, and yield him to Miss Holden."

"That will suit me admirably," Rosina declared stiffly.

"Will he be here tonight? I know he was invited, but I don't see him."

"He has a meeting to attend, but I believe he said he would come on afterwards," Rosina said in a voice that clearly indicated that it was nothing to her whether he was at this party or not.

The room was becoming crowded. Lettice Holden arrived with her parents. All of them were dressed in ways that puffed out their extravagant wealth. Lettice, in particular, dripped with diamonds in a way that was quite unsuitable for a young girl.

A young man appeared beside them. Although not handsome he had a kind face and a merry grin which inspired Rosina's instant liking. Lady Doreen introduced him as her eldest brother, George. He regarded Rosina with evident admiration, while his sister beamed on them both.

When George had moved away to greet other guests, Rosina asked Lady Doreen,

"And the gentleman you have been telling me about? Will he not be here?"

"Oh yes, he's been acting as Papa's secretary, and now he's been nominated to fight one of the new seats at the election. He's been invited because Papa regards him as a man of great talent, who should be encouraged."

"But not where you're concerned, it seems."

Lady Doreen gave her impish chuckle.

"I can do all my own encouraging. Oh Rosina, I love him so much. Not that I tell him that, of course. I leave him in doubt so that he isn't too sure of me, but I long for the day when we can proclaim our love openly."

She stopped suddenly with a little gasp, and her hands flew to her mouth.

"There he is! Oh, look at him. Isn't he wonderful?"

Smiling, Rosina turned to look at the doorway, where a young man, splendid in evening dress, had appeared.

Then her smile faded.

She stared in horror, hoping to discover that this was no more than a bad dream.

The man was Arthur Woodward.

It was impossible, she told herself wildly. It simply couldn't be true.

But it was true. This was the man she had seen in the teashop that day, making eyes at the woman who worshipped him to the point of idolatry, and whom he would soon betray.

Now another woman worshipped him, unaware that his cruelty had killed Miss Draycott.

He looked fine, Rosina thought bitterly, standing there in the doorway, apparently diffident, but actually allowing time for all eyes to fix admiringly on him.

He was handsome, elegant, perfectly groomed. Also he had an air of authority and an obvious pride in himself that made him appear to be very much at home in this glittering company.

Only she knew that he was a cruel, heartless schemer.

She watched as Lord Blakemore summoned him to be introduced to someone of note and saw his ingratiating manner. And she hated him.

Finally, when he had oiled his way around the assembled company, he came over to where the girl who loved him was waiting.

"Forgive me," he said contritely to Lady Doreen. "For myself, I longed to come to you at once – "

"But you had your duty to do first," she said. "Arthur, let me introduce my friend, Miss Rosina Clarendon. Rosina, this is Arthur Woodward."

He bowed low over her hand and she had to fight not to snatch it away in disgust.

"Miss Clarendon, this is an honour. I admire your father greatly. In fact, everyone who knows him must admire him."

She longed, as she had never longed for anything before, to reply by telling him how much she hated and despised him. But that was impossible, so she murmured conventional thanks.

There was something in his eyes, as they met hers, which made her shiver. Clearly he was assessing her and she could tell that he thought she was rather attractive.

He smiled at her in a way which made her want to strike him.

"I suppose you realise that I shall be standing for South Gradley, the new constituency next to Sir Elroy's," he said, speaking as though the whole world must be interested in him.

He smiled at her as he went on,

"It is not as large as his, but I'm hoping, almost against hope, that I will, with a great deal of help from Lady Doreen, win the seat."

"I imagine it must be very interesting to be the first in a new constituency," Rosina said. "And of course you are fortunate to have the power and influence of the Blakemores on your side."

She could not keep a slight bitter emphasis out of her voice, but he did not notice. Nor did she expect him to. This man was blinded by vanity and assumed that everyone took him at his own estimate.

"I am indeed fortunate to have Lady Doreen on my side," he replied smoothly. "She has promised to canvass for me, and I know she will do it brilliantly."

He smiled at Lady Doreen.

"Are you listening?" he asked. "I am singing your praises."

"So I should hope," she said at once. "Otherwise I'll go and work for the opposition."

"You are wonderful!" Arthur said, looking at her as he spoke.

As their eyes met, Rosina knew exactly what Lady Doreen was feeling. It was the same as Miss Draycott had felt just before she received that fatal letter, and it was terrible to witness.

She turned away biting her lower lip to prevent herself from telling this man what she thought of him.

Lady Blakemore bustled up to them.

"I hope you two aren't talking politics again. I declare, Miss Clarendon, my girl is always trying to engage Mr. Woodward in political discussions, when I'm sure he gets enough of them with my husband."

Lady Doreen smothered a giggle, and Rosina knew that whatever their discussions were about, it wasn't politics.

"Sir John Crosby," announced the butler.

Sir John entered the room quietly, and was warmly welcomed by the Blakemores. When he had done his duty he made his way to the little group in the corner, smiling at Rosina, bowing low over Lady Doreen's hand and then doing the same for Miss Holden, who simpered and sighed.

It seemed that he had met Mr. Woodward on a previous occasion, and they exchanged bows.

Suddenly a silence fell over the room. Everyone looked up to see a new arrival standing in the doorway. He was in his late fifties with a strong face, a beaky nose and sharp, penetrating eyes. At his side was a plump, comfortable looking woman.

"Mr. and Mrs. William Gladstone," announced the butler.

Lady Blakemore hurried to greet the great man who led the Liberal party, and who was widely expected to be the next Prime Minister. The room began to buzz again. Arthur Woodward's attention was riveted.

It took the Gladstones some time to greet everyone, because so many people wanted some of the great man's time. When he came to the Clarendons he shook hands and stood talking intently with them in a way that everyone agreed was very significant.

Then his eyes warmed as he saw Rosina.

"And how is my dear god-daughter?" he asked, hugging her.

"All the better for seeing you, dear Uncle William," she said, embracing him and then embracing Mrs. Gladstone, who also greeted her warmly.

Lady Doreen had also met Mr. Gladstone before, but she was not his god-daughter. There was an extra warmth in his greeting of Rosina, and she sensed that Arthur Woodward was aware of every nuance as his sharp eyes darted from one to the other.

It was time to go in to dinner. Rosina found herself sitting between two gentlemen whom she did not know, but with whom she fell easily into conversation. On the other side of the table she could see Lettice Holden flirting shamelessly with Sir John.

But her efforts would be useless, Rosina felt sure. He had far too much delicacy to be attracted to such a vulgar young woman.

She also had a good view of Arthur Woodward who was sitting beside Mrs. Gladstone, turning all his charm on her and neglecting the sad looking spinster on his other side.

Afterwards the ladies retired to have coffee in the drawing-room, while the men stayed over their port. When they finally joined the ladies, Arthur came straight over to Lady Doreen.

Now he had many secret things to say which only she could hear.

'I hate him,' Rosina said to herself. 'I hate him and I will never, never in the whole of my life fall in love with a man like that. All he cares about is what benefit she can bring him.'

As she thought of the loving letters he had written to

Miss Draycott, she wanted to get up and hit him over the head, then to tell the whole world how corrupt and appalling he was.

But she could not do so in this house. Her father needed Lord Blakemore's friendship.

'But only his friendship,' she thought angrily. 'Papa always pays his own election expenses, while Mr. Woodward will be having his paid by the Blakemore family.'

At that moment the young man looked up and caught her eye. Smiling, he came to join her.

"May I fetch you some more coffee?" he asked.

"Thank you, I should like that," she said as warmly as she could manage.

She had decided that it was time she became better acquainted with Mr. Woodward.

And, of course, he wished to become better acquainted with the daughter of a man who might soon be in a position of power.

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before," he said, returning with the coffee.

"I'm not really 'out' yet," she explained. "In fact, I was only recently at school."

"I find it hard to picture you as still a schoolgirl," he said. "You seem so confident and sophisticated."

"You're too kind. In my last year at Laine Hall, we were taught how to behave in society."

There was a perceptible rattle from the cup in his hand, she was glad to note.

"Did – you say – Laine Hall?"

"That's right. It's a school on the edge of Papa's constituency. Have you heard of it?"

"I – believe so."

"Have you been to that part of the world recently?"

"I – yes – that is," he stammered. "It's near my own constituency – the one I hope will be mine – "

His face was pale.

"Then, of course, you pay frequent visits," Rosina said, smiling implacably, "to make yourself familiar with the place."

"That is – one of my duties."

"I should really have been at school now, but I had to leave early, owing to a very upsetting experience."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He had recovered some of his smooth manner.

"Well, the experience was not mine, but that of a good friend of mine, a teacher called Miss Draycott."

He neither moved nor spoke, but his face was the colour of death.

"Perhaps you have met her, Mr. Woodward?"

"No,"
he said, the word exploding from his mouth like a bullet from a gun. "Why should you think I – that is – I don't believe I've had that pleasure."

'I could almost believe you,' she thought, 'if I hadn't seen you sitting with her in a teashop, holding her hand and gazing into her eyes.'

"No," he said again, "I never met this lady, but I do recall hearing of her, that she left the school without warning. Friends who wrote to her were informed that she had departed suddenly."

'Of course' she thought. 'After I left, you grew nervous because she didn't return the things you'd asked for. I expect you wrote, reminding her, but your letter came back with a note to say that Miss Draycott had left without leaving an address. Since then you've been on hot coals wondering where she is and what she did with your compromising letters.'

"Yes," she said aloud. "She did depart very suddenly indeed."

"Do you happen to know where she has gone?" he asked with an attempt to sound casual.

Rosina drew a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.

"She is dead, Mr. Woodward."

It did her good to see the look that passed across his face.

It was one of stark terror.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

Rosina spent the rest of the evening in a mood of angry excitement. She had struck a blow for Miss Draycott, and it was a thrilling experience.

Now that she had seen Arthur Woodward at close quarters, she hated him even more than in the past. His ease of manner, his assurance, only made her think of her friend, lying dead.

Fairly soon after their encounter she went to her father's side and said, so that only he could hear,

"I think we ought to go home. You have a great deal to do tomorrow and if you are tired you will find it very difficult."

He smiled at her.

"You are quite right," he agreed. "We must go home. But I have enjoyed coming here tonight and I hope the Earl's daughter will stay your friend."

BOOK: Love is Triumphant
2.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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