Never Laugh at Love

by Barbara Cartland

  The Duke frowned as if he thought her remark tactless, but after a second’s pause he said,

  “I feel that we are starting out on a voyage of discovery. We really know very little about each other and we have seldom been alone together until now.”

  He smiled as he added,

  “Your sisters, quite unintentionally, I am sure, are extremely effective chaperones!”

  “We have always done everything together. In fact I feel tonight they will be depressed because they cannot be with me!”

  “I think it would cause a great deal of comment,” the Duke said in an amused voice, “if I set off for France not only with my bride but also with her three sisters!”

  “They would have loved to see the battlefield,” Anthea remarked a little wistfully.

  “Perhaps we will take them another time,” the Duke suggested.

  Her eyes lit up.

  “Do you mean that?”

  Then she told herself that he was only speaking conventionally.

  Once the formalities of their marriage were over he would be able to return to the Countess and she would doubtless be left to amuse herself in the country or anywhere provided that she did not intrude on his private life.

  Because the idea was somewhat depressing, she said quickly,

  “Do you wish me to leave you while you drink your port?”

  “I hope you will do nothing of the sort,” the Duke answered. “I don’t want any port, but I will tell the butler to bring a decanter of brandy to the salon.”

  Anthea rose to walk ahead of him down the long passage that led to the hall.

  As she did so, she could see them both reflected in the gilt-framed mirrors on either side of the corridor.

  The feeling of their enacting a play was intensified and the salon with its crystal chandeliers lit and the dusk falling outside the windows was very theatrical.

  Because she had no idea what they should talk about, Anthea went round the room looking at the objets d’art, exclaiming in delight over snuffboxes set with precious stones, at miniatures depicting the Earls of Arksey down the ages and at exquisite pieces of Dresden china.

  “I have a great many treasures in my houses in London and the country,” the Duke said, “which I think will also please you.”

  “Mama used to tell me that great Noblemen possessed such beautiful things,” Anthea said, “but it is always difficult to visualise them without actually seeing them.”

  “That is true,” the Duke said, “ – and not only of seeing but of feeling.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Anthea agreed. “One reads about people’s emotions, of sorrow, of happiness, elation, ecstasy and of course love and one wonders what it would feel like to experience any of those.”

  “Usually to be disappointed,” the Duke commented wryly.

  “Disappointed?”

  “Particularly when it comes to love.”

  Anthea looked at him uncertainly.

  “But, surely,” she said, “it is very wonderful and very exciting being in love?”

  “It never quite reaches one’s expectations.”

  “Oh, but you must not say that!” Anthea exclaimed. “That means you are not really in love! Mama says that loving my father was far more marvellous, far more wonderful than she ever dreamt it could be.”

  “Perhaps she was very lucky,” the Duke remarked.

  Anthea glanced at him a little uncertainly and wondered if he had quarrelled with the Countess or perhaps in some way she had failed him.

  Because she had slept very little the night before and because she was so tired, Anthea suggested after they had talked a little while longer that she should go to bed.

  “But of course,” the Duke agreed. “We have before us tomorrow another long stage of our journey South, so I am afraid you will have to rise early.”

  “Then I will certainly go to bed at once,” Anthea said.

  He escorted her into the hall where there was a footman waiting to give her a candle in a silver candlestick.

  Because the servant was present, Anthea felt it embarrassing to say goodnight, so she merely smiled a little shyly at the Duke and walked up the staircase.

  She thought as she did so how once again it seemed part of a play that maids should be waiting for her in her bedroom with candles alight on each side of the great silk-canopied bed.

  She put on one of the exquisite lace embroidered nightgowns that her Godmother had sent her from London.

  She slipped into bed as the maids extinguished all the candles except the two at the bedside and, as the door closed behind them, Anthea lay back on the lace-edged pillows looking around her.

  Now she felt like a Princess in the Fairy story who was so blue-blooded and sensitive that she felt a pea under a dozen mattresses.

  ‘It’s all very exciting!’ she thought. ‘Exciting seeing this magnificent house and very enthralling to think of going abroad!’

  She gave a little sigh, which was almost one of happiness.

  ‘There is nothing to be frightened of,’ she admonished herself. ‘The wedding has gone off smoothly, the Duke is good tempered – in fact everybody is happy!’

  She lay thinking of how pretty the girls had been in their pink gowns, which made them look like rosebuds, and how her mother had shed tears of joy when she and the Duke had signed their names in the Vestry.

  ‘In the future I will be able to look after the girls and Mama,’ she thought.

  The idea suddenly came to her that perhaps, after all, it was a good thing she had drawn the cartoon.

  ‘If I had not done so, I should be at home again skimping and saving,’ she realised. ‘Instead Chloe has a horse to ride, I can give a ball for Thais at Christmas – she need not wait until the Season – and Phebe can go to a really good school.’

  She smiled as she turned over to blow out the candles by her bed and as she did so the door opened.

  The Duke came into the room and Anthea looked at him in surprise.

  He was wearing a long brocade robe in a plum-coloured red, which was becoming to his dark hair and there was a touch of white at his neck that showed up the squareness of his jaw.

  He walked towards her and, only as he reached the bed, did Anthea say,

  “What is – it? Why are you – here?”

  “You were not expecting me?” the Duke asked.

  “Expecting you?” she asked in a puzzled voice, then added quickly, “You mean – you cannot mean – ”

  The Duke sat down on the side of the bed.

  “I can see you are surprised, Anthea,” he said, “but frankly I meant to talk to you before now about our marriage.”

  “What – about it?” Anthea asked nervously.

  Her long dark hair was falling over her shoulders nearly to her waist, but the soft muslin of her nightgown was very transparent and did not disguise the whiteness of her neck or the soft curves of her breasts.

  Her eyes were very large in her small face and there was an apprehensive look in them that had not been there before.

  “We have been married in rather exceptional circumstances,” the Duke said after a moment’s pause, “but I think, Anthea, you will be sensible and wise enough to realise that it would be a very great mistake for our marriage to be anything but a normal one.”

  “What do you – mean by – normal?” Anthea asked a little above a whisper.

  “I mean,” the Duke said, “that we are man and wife and that we should behave as an ordinary married couple would do.”

  “You – mean,” Anthea said hesitatingly, “that you would – sleep here with me and make – m-make – love to me?”

  “That is what would be expected, Anthea, and that would be the right way to ensure that our marriage is successful.”

  “But – you could not – do that,” Anthea murmured. “I could not – let you!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because – ”

  She found it difficult to go on and after a moment he s
aid,

  “You are thinking that my interests lie elsewhere. But, Anthea, you are old enough to realise that a wife has a very different position in a man’s life to any other woman.”

  “B-but you are – in love with – someone else.”

  The Duke was silent for a moment and then he said,

  “It may seem a difficult thing to ask, but surely you can forget what happened when you were in London?”

  Anthea made a little gesture and he went on,

  “You must have moved in the Social world long enough to realise that most men have liaisons of one sort or another before they marry? Usually their wives, especially if they are as young as you, do not hear of them, But – and perhaps it is a good thing – there is no need for any pretence between us.”

  “I-I married you,” Anthea stuttered, “because I knew it would – help my Godmother, but I never thought – I never dreamt that I should be expected to be your – real wife.”

  “I hoped you would not feel like that, simply because it would make our relationship in the future extremely difficult, if not impossible for both of us.”

  “If you – made love to me, you would be – thinking of Cousin Delphine.”

  She thought the Duke stiffened before he replied,

  “I should be thinking of you and that you are my wife.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Anthea pointed out. “How could you – kiss me and even by – shutting your eyes not be – thinking – ‘it should be Delphine! It should be Delphine!’”

  She saw the Duke’s lips tighten and thought he was angry, but for the moment she did not care.

  “It would be just the same,” she went on, “as when my Nanny used to give me nasty medicine as a child and say, ‘if you hold your nose you will not taste it.’ But it did not work!”

  As if he could not help himself, the Duke laughed.

  “Really, Anthea, it is hardly a very apt simile!”

  “I think it is very apt!” Anthea contradicted. “And I think it – wrong of you to – suggest what you – have!”

  “I assumed you would be reasonable over this.”

  “It is not a question of being reasonable. You belong to Cousin Delphine. I have always thought it was wicked for someone to try to take away another woman’s husband and, just as I would never do that, I would never try to take you away from the woman you love. You are hers – not mine.”

  The Duke rose to his feet to walk across the room to the fireplace, then he walked back again.

  “I never envisaged for a moment that you would feel like this,” he muttered.

  “I don’t know how you – expected me to feel! I think you are very handsome. You are much nicer than I thought you would be. You have been very generous to the girls and to Mama – and – to me. But I don’t – love you! How could I?”

  “Love is not entirely essential to marriage,” the Duke said. “You are my wife, you bear my name. All I am suggesting is that we lead a normal married life.”

  “How can it be – normal,” Anthea, asked, “when, if you make – love to me, you would be – wishing you were – making love to Cousin Delphine?”

  “Oh, my God!” the Duke ejaculated. “Is it not possible to make you understand what I am trying to say?”

  Anthea did not answer and after a moment he came back to the bed to sit down on it and say,

  “I don’t want to sound exasperated or cross – I am not! It is just that I realise I am looking at this from a man’s point of view and you from a woman’s.”

  “And because I am a – woman,” Anthea said in a very small voice, “I could not – let you – touch me, when you – love someone else.”

  She sounded suddenly very weak, and rather helpless and she added almost tearfully,

  “I am – sorry. I am very – very sorry, when you have been so – kind to us all, but I cannot do it – I cannot really!”

  She looked at the Duke and put out her hand.

  “Please try to understand. I will do everything else you want of me. I will look after you – I will obey you – and because I know you would hate it I will not make – scenes – never again after this one – but please do not – do not – touch me!”

  The Duke looked at her for a long moment and because she could not help herself Anthea could not look away from him.

  Although she was appealing to him, she felt somehow it was a battle of wills. She felt he was drawing her, compelling her, forcing her!

  Then, when she was conscious that her heart was beating and her mouth was dry, he capitulated.

  “Very well, Anthea. It shall be as you wish. I will sleep in my own room.”

  “Thank – you. Thank you very much – indeed – and please – try to – understand.”

  “I am trying,” the Duke said.

  Anthea gave a little sigh,

  “As I have already said – you are much kinder and nicer than I ever expected.”

  He rose to his feet and, as he would have moved away, she said,

  “You are not very – angry with – me?”

  She put out her hand as she spoke.

  He took it and raised it to his lips.

  “Perhaps I am more disappointed than angry,” he answered.

  Then he went from the room closing the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Riding out from Brussels towards the battlefields of Waterloo, Anthea thought that she had never been so happy.

  It seemed to her that every day she was with the Duke it was easier to talk to him and everything became more exciting.

  She had felt constrained and embarrassed the morning after their wedding night. But she told herself that the worst thing she could do would be to erect a barrier between them that would make it impossible for her to talk to him naturally.

  Everything was easy, because she fancied, although she was not sure, that the Duke had speeded up their progress to the Continent.

  Certainly they had stayed only one night at each of the Stately Homes where they had been offered hospitality.

  As they usually arrived late in the evening and left early in the morning and were therefore somewhat tired, there was not time to be bored by each other’s conversation.

  The weather was hot and sunny so the Duke drove his phaeton himself.

  The travelling chariot either went ahead with the luggage so that everything was in readiness for when they arrived or was not far behind should they wish to ride in it.

  Their cavalcade with four outriders was very impressive and Anthea enjoyed the commotion they caused when they passed through small villages to be stared at open-mouthed by the yokels.

  They passed one night at Axminster House in London and Anthea saw that it was in fact filled with the treasures the Duke had spoken about, but she had little time to examine them.

  By the time they had dined, she was ready for bed and they left early in the morning for the drive to Dover where they were to embark on the Duke’s yacht.

  Having never been at sea before, Anthea was apprehensive in case she should be seasick.

  ‘Even though the Duke is not in love with me,’ she told herself, ‘I cannot imagine anything more undignified or unromantic.’

  But fortunately the sea was flat and there was only a breeze blowing in the right direction to carry them across the Channel.

  Everything to Anthea was so new and enthralling that her enthusiasm was irrepressible and the Duke found himself responding to her high spirits.

  What was more she made him laugh.

  He could never remember spending a long time in the company of any woman unless he was enamoured of her and she was doing everything in her power to entice him and being very intense in the process.

  Anthea, having made up her mind to be natural with the Duke, behaved as if he was one of her family or perhaps the brother she had never had.

  She was wise enough to remember two things – first that a man is always willing to give advice and to instruct
and secondly that, just as she had been amused and entertained by the tales of the Marquis, so in the same way she could amuse the Duke.

  Not of course with the tales of the Beau Monde, a world he knew better than she did, but of the life familiar to her by which she had always managed to make her sisters laugh.

  Because it came naturally to her, she usually impersonated the people of whom she was talking, old Mrs. Ridgeway, the village beggar, the Vicar who frequently found Phebe’s inquisitive questions embarrassing, the farmers who were always at odds with the rent collectors and a dozen other country characters.

  She even included the boy who wandered round the village singing tuneless songs, but was not so simple that he did not steal when he got the opportunity.

  The Duke found himself amused by what Anthea was telling him and he also found himself watching the sparkle in her eyes and the dimples in her cheeks.

  Their honeymoon, although Anthea did not realise it, was a new experience for him as well as for her.

  When they reached Brussels, the Duke found that he had an attentive pupil, who would listen with wide eyes to everything he told her and who never ceased asking pertinent and intelligent questions.

  He had not brought his own horses with him, but he had sent a Courier ahead who had not only rented for them an impressive mansion, but had also procured some fine bloodstock so that they would either drive or ride.

  “It would be best for us to ride to the battlefield,” the Duke had suggested this morning.

  “I would prefer that,” Anthea replied, “although I have not ridden a spirited horse for some time, so I hope I shall not disgrace myself.”

  “I will see you are on a mount that is not too frisky,” the Duke promised.

  When the horses were brought round, Anthea was delighted with the chestnut mare that had been provided for her.

  The Duke on the other hand was riding a headstrong, obstreperous stallion, which was obviously in need of exercise.

  He frisked about the road shying at passers-by, but soon found that his rider intended to master him and there was no chance of his getting his own way.

  Anthea knew the Duke was enjoying the tussle and there was a look of satisfaction on his handsome face that was unmistakable.