The Storms Of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  It was understood in all the great houses he visited, with a discretion that was never abused, that those who were indulging in affaires de coeur were put as conveniently near to each other as possible.

  The Duke, however, asked no questions, not even who was in the house party, but as she talked the Marchioness dropped first one name and then another.

  This told him that quite a number of his personal friends were staying at Berkhampton House, as well as Fenella Newbury.

  He had been aware for a long time that very little went on in the Social world in which the Marchioness was an undoubted leader, without her being aware of it.

  Because she was still a very attractive woman he flirted with her skilfully, paid her compliments and was aware, as he had known before, that he was one of the people at Court whom she favoured.

  When he came down to dinner, he had almost forgotten about his encounter with Lady Aldora and had dismissed it as unimportant.

  He was therefore surprised when he entered the drawing room to see standing beside his hostess somebody in white who he realised was the extremely rude young woman who had accosted him in the drive.

  As he walked towards the Marchioness, moving with a dignity that was habitual to him, he knew that she was watching him appreciatively while the girl beside her had her eyes on the ground.

  As the Duke reached the Marchioness’s side, she said,

  “I think you know everybody here tonight with the exception of my daughter Aldora.”

  The Duke inclined his head and Aldora curtseyed with a grace that he could not help noticing, although she still did not raise her eyes.

  He was aware that she was extremely well dressed in a very attractive gown of white gauze which made her seem somewhat insubstantial and unlike her mother, who was blazing with diamonds, she wore only two white roses in her golden hair.

  She looked young, demure and quite conventional.

  Very different, the Duke thought, from the small virago who had insulted him and told him how much she hated him in an offensive manner that he did not wish to remember.

  Fortunately before there was any need to speak a number of other guests came into the drawing room.

  Almost the first of them, the Duke saw, was the one he particularly wanted to see.

  As she came through the door under the light from the chandeliers, he realised that she was even lovelier than he remembered.

  Fenella Newbury at twenty-seven was at the height of her beauty.

  Tall, exquisitely curved and dressed in a manner that made the very most of her figure she had fair hair that deepened to russet brown.

  Her eyes, however, were the vivid blue of a summer sky, her complexion was clear and her skin very white against a gown that echoed the colour of her eyes.

  Like the Marchioness she wore a great many jewels including a tiara and necklace of turquoises and diamonds.

  There was no need for words for the Duke to know how pleased she was to see him or that like him she was excited that they were together and there would be no restrictions to their enjoyment.

  As the Duke took her hand in his, he felt her fingers at first quiver, then tighten and he thought that Goodwood Races would mean a great deal to him this year and not only on the Racecourse.

  There was a party of twenty staying in the house.

  The Duke, as the most important guest present, gave his hostess his arm and led her into the dining room saying as he did so,

  “It is really delightful to find so many of my close friends staying under your roof.”

  “I thought that was what you would say,” the Marchioness replied. “And what is so gratifying is that they are my friends too!”

  The Duke knew that this was a compliment and, as if she was determined to emphasise the obvious, the Marchioness went on,

  “I have known Fenella Newbury since she was a girl, but I have never seen her look lovelier than she does today.”

  The Duke knew exactly what she was insinuating, but he only replied,

  “I have always thought that the newspapers are right when they say that not only the best horses are to be seen at Goodwood but also the most beautiful women.”

  The food at dinner was excellent, the wines superb and the Duke found himself enjoying the conversation, which seemed to sparkle like champagne.

  There were also the unspoken thoughts he exchanged with Fenella Newbury.

  He was on his hostess’s right with her on his other side, and he found the little asides they made to each other besides the exchange of glances grew more intimate as dinner progressed.

  The Duke had noticed when they sat down that Aldora was at the other end of the table seated between two younger men and he was extremely glad that she was nowhere near him.

  Halfway through the meal he looked towards her without really meaning to and found that she was gazing at him.

  He was aware again of the hatred in her eyes that had been so disturbing when they met in the Park and seemed very out of place in such congenial company.

  It was certainly unprecedented for a woman to look at him in such a manner.

  In fact it made him forget what he was talking about at that particular moment and he found himself wondering how it was possible for his reputation to have come to the knowledge of a girl who could only just have left the schoolroom and why it should have upset her so much.

  ‘The whole thing is ridiculous!’ he thought. ‘A child of that age should not know about anybody’s love affairs and certainly should not be affected by them.’

  In the Social world in which he moved nobody was shocked by an affaire de coeur and the only person likely to be annoyed about it was a discomfited husband.

  It came as a surprise to the Duke that anybody so young and outside the orbit of his particular friends should be aware of his love affairs and be censorious of them.

  ‘I suppose she had listened to her mother’s friends,’ he thought scornfully, ‘or else overheard the gossip of servants.’

  Even so, as he was always particularly careful of the reputation of any lady with whom he was currently involved, it annoyed him to think that Aldora might be aware that he was interested in Fenella Newbury.

  The Duke prided himself not only on his discretion but on being very protective of a lady’s good name.

  He had been known to walk out of his Club if a woman was mentioned disparagingly by other members and he never listened to gossip or encouraged it in his own house.

  He found himself remembering now how Aldora had said that he treated women like oranges, sucked them dry and threw them away.

  It was a vulgar way of speaking that he very much disliked and he thought that it was something nobody else would have had the temerity to say to him.

  “You are looking worried,” Fenella Newbury said very softly in his ear.

  He thrust away the scowl between his eyes and turned to her with a smile.

  “Forgive me,” he replied. “You know that all I want to do is to talk to you and listen to your very lovely voice.”

  “That is what I want you to do,” she said very softly.

  As her mouth moved sensuously over the words, the Duke knew how much she wanted him to kiss her.

  *

  The dinner was a long drawn out meal and, when the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, Fenella Newbury whispered beneath her breath as she passed the Duke,

  “Don’t be too long.”

  “Of course not,” he replied.

  The Marchioness had already asked him, since there was no host at the party, if he would do the honours and bring the gentlemen into the drawing room when they had finished their port.

  The Duke did not like port and drank only a small glass of brandy.

  He was therefore soon ready to leave the table to the surprise of some of his friends who had not yet finished their cigars.

  One or two of them, however, looked knowingly at each other as he led the way to the drawing room.

  There
the ladies of the party were elegantly draped on chairs and sofas like roses in full bloom.

  There were green baize tables in the next room for those who preferred cards and the Duke, hearing music as he entered the drawing room, saw that Aldora was seated at the piano.

  He thought with a sense of relief that that disposed of her. At the same time he was aware that she played surprisingly well for an amateur.

  He looked around, saw Fenella Newbury sitting on a sofa alone and knew from the way she eagerly lifted her eyes to his that she was waiting for him to join her.

  As he sat down, he was aware that the music had altered and, as he heard the Mozart sonata Aldora had been playing being skilfully transformed into something light and romantic, he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was mocking him.

  ‘Damn the girl!’ he said to himself. ‘If she was my daughter, I would give her a good spanking and send her to bed!’

  He, however, responded to the flattering words Fenella Newbury was saying to him and to the appreciation in her eyes.

  But however determined he was not to listen, he was hearing the seductive melody of a Strauss waltz telling him almost as if Aldora was saying it aloud that he was plucking yet another orange from the tree.

  Try to ignore her as he would, The Duke found himself conscious of her all through the evening.

  It was only when it was nearly midnight that he saw her rise from the piano to speak to her mother and thought with a sigh of relief that she was leaving.

  His assumption was correct for the Marchioness had obviously given Aldora permission to go to bed.

  She went towards the door and only as she reached it did she look back to where the Duke was sitting and, almost as if she willed him, his eyes met hers.

  They were quite some distance from each other, but, as she stood there, he saw incredibly that she turned her eyes inwards in the hideous disfiguring squint that had appalled him when he had first seen her on the drive.

  Then, while he could still hardly believe what he had seen, she had slipped through the door and was gone.

  “It’s growing late,” Fenella Newbury was saying, “and, as we shall have a long day at the races tomorrow, I think I should – retire.”

  She looked at him as she spoke and then, so softly that he could only just hear her, she whispered,

  “I am in the Stuart Room opposite yours!”

  She rose to her feet and as she did so several other ladies, as if at a given signal, rose too and began saying goodnight to their hostess.

  The gentlemen did not linger long after the ladies had left the drawing room. Some of them had come long distances and like the Duke, although it was now possible to reach Goodwood by train, they all preferred to drive.

  It was a Race Meeting to which most of the aristocratic racegoers took their own coaches, using them to watch from rather than the stands and having luncheon in them.

  Whether they had driven to Berkhampton House by coach, phaeton or carriage, the dust along the twisting lanes in the vicinity of Goodwood made the last part of the journey very tiring.

  His valet was waiting in his bedroom and, having undressed, the Duke put on a long robe that reached to the ground and dismissed the man.

  He walked across the room to draw back the curtains from one of the windows and gazed out into the night.

  The gardens sloping down to a lake were very beautiful and the stars filled the sky.

  There was a half moon rising above the trees in the Park and seeing the drive reminded the Duke once again of Aldora and the violent manner she had denounced him in.

  ‘One thing is quite obvious,’ he told himself. ‘The Marchioness has no designs on me as a son-in-law and the company, with the exception of her daughter, had been chosen to please my taste and make certain that I enjoy myself.’

  Not only was he paired with Fenella and he wondered vaguely how the Marchioness was already aware that he was interested in her, but his men friends were all provided with the lady of their choice.

  Several of these ladies were accompanied by their husbands, but in those cases amusement for the husbands was also supplied.

  Thinking it over, the Duke realised that the Marchioness’s guests must be thinking exactly as he was, that she knew just what each person wanted and like a Fairy Godmother had waved her magic wand,

  It suddenly flashed through his mind that it was all too contrived and it was almost as if her guests were puppets and the Marchioness was pulling the strings.

  He found himself, as he looked at the stars, wondering what it would be like if just one woman whom he wanted was out of reach and he knew that she was unobtainable.

  He smiled and thought that it had never happened so far in his life and was unlikely to happen in the future.

  Fenella was certainly not out of reach but waiting for him, doubtless impatiently.

  Quite unexpectedly the idea came into his mind of going straight to bed instead of doing just what was expected of him.

  In fact everything seemed to have been planned so smoothly that it was almost like gliding downstream and having to make no effort to use an oar.

  Then he thought he was being ridiculous.

  Fenella was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen and she attracted him as he knew that he attracted her.

  ‘Why am I hesitating?’ he asked himself angrily.

  He drew the curtains and shut out the light.

  *

  The Duke always rose early.

  Whatever time he had gone to bed the night before, he always awoke on the stroke of six o’clock, and even if he tried he found it impossible to go to sleep again.

  Sometimes, if the weather was bad and he was in London, he would stay in bed and read a book. But these occasions were so rare that wherever he was his grooms always had a horse ready for him at exactly six-fifteen.

  This morning, although the Duke as might be expected, had had very little sleep, he did not feel in the least tired.

  Fenella had been all he had anticipated, eager and passionate, but in many ways unawakened to the full possibilities of love-making at which the Duke was such an expert.

  He thought, however, as he washed in cold water that he disliked an exotic perfume that lingered on his skin.

  As he scrubbed himself rather harder than usual, he looked forward to riding over the beautiful countryside that enthralled him every time he came here.

  Therefore he entered the stables just before a quarter past six o’clock and, as he appeared, his own grooms led a grey stallion that he had sent ahead of him into the yard.

  It was a horse he had not owned for long and which was still fighting against acknowledging his Master.

  The Duke’s eyes brightened. He knew that he was going to enjoy the age-old battle between man and beast and that this stallion would undoubtedly present a challenge.

  He leapt into the saddle and was just about to ride out of the yard when he was aware that in a field nearby somebody else was riding, and at that moment jumping a very high fence.

  It was so high that the Duke thought for a moment that the horse must have wings to attempt it and, as it sailed over the top, he thought it must fall on landing.

  Instead it reached the ground without mishap and as horse and rider moved on he realised that there was a woman in the saddle.

  “Who is that?” he asked sharply.

  The groom in charge of the stables replied,

  “That be Lady Aldora, Your Grace. ’Er Ladyship’s ’ad fences erected the same ’eight as them at the National Steeplechase and she’s trainin’ three ’orses over them.”

  The Duke could hardly believe what he had heard.

  The fences at the National Steeplechase at Liverpool were the highest of any Racecourse in the country and it was inconceivable that they should be jumped by a woman rider.

  Without saying anything more he turned his horse and rode out from the stable yard into the paddock beyond it where he could now see the jumps
erected in a huge circle the width of two fields.

  Aldora, having taken two other fences while he was talking, was now as far away from him as the course allowed and was taking what he was aware was a replica of the famous water-jump.

  She rode her horse at the fence and as he leapt the Duke was almost certain that he would land in the water on the other side of it.

  But, as if Aldora compelled him to do so, he stretched out at the last moment and avoided calamity by a hair’s breadth.

  There were two more fences before Aldora would be back to where he was watching her.

  As he had no wish to accompany his hostess’s daughter, who he was still convinced was slightly touched in the head, the best thing he could do, he told himself, was to ride off in the opposite direction.

  But, because the two fences that were still to be jumped were very high, he was somehow compelled to watch Aldora taking them in a manner that he had to admit he could not have bettered himself.

  After the last jump as she came trotting towards him, he saw her pat her horse’s neck and talk to him with a smile on her lips that brought her dimples into play.

  “You are a clever boy and I am very pleased with you!” the Duke heard her say.

  Then, as she suddenly saw him, he realised that she stiffened, the smile and her dimples disappeared and the hostile expression was back in her eyes.

  He did not move and only when after a few steps her horse was close to his did he somewhat perfunctorily lift his hat.

  “You are up very early!” she remarked. “I should have thought that you would be too fatigued to ride!”

  As if she had told him blatantly that she knew how he had spent the night and with whom, the Duke for a moment was too astonished to be angry.

  Then she would have passed him without saying anything more, if he had not said,

  “I suppose I can only congratulate you on taking fences that most men would be afraid to tackle.”

  “I expect Johnson told you that they are a replica of the National Steeplechase?”