Never Laugh at Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “Yours, at any rate,” Anthea answered. “I don’t believe there is a bed at Axminster House as large as this one.”

  “There is not,” the Duke agreed, “and that is why, as I have already said, it solves our problem.”

  Anthea looked at him enquiringly and he added,

  “There is no reason for either you or me to sleep downstairs. If you take one side, and I the other, we might as well be in two different countries. France and England, for instance with the Channel between us.”

  Anthea was silent and he said after a moment,

  “It is a sensible solution and tomorrow, if you want me to, I will move on to Pershore or any other place you suggest. But tonight I am going no further!”

  He looked at Anthea challengingly as if he expected her to argue.

  Then she said after a moment,

  “Very – well. As you say, we have the Channel – between us – but I must point out that in the village they know me as ʽMiss Forthingdale’.”

  “Then we will certainly give them something to talk about!” the Duke exclaimed. “Unless of course you would like to put on your wedding ring again.”

  Anthea was surprised that he had noticed.

  “The Vicar did not realise I was married and I thought it might be – uncomfortable to explain who I – was.”

  “I feel certain the Vicar will require an explanation after tonight!” the Duke said mockingly.

  He turned towards the door.

  “I am going to find Hercules because I have razors and various other necessities in my saddlebag.”

  Anthea did not speak and he went on,

  “When I come back, I will want to wash and, as I imagine the only place I can do so is downstairs, I suggest, Anthea, that you get into bed. If you are asleep when I come upstairs, I will not wake you.”

  “Thank – you,” Anthea muttered faintly.

  She felt as if the Duke had taken command and there was nothing she could do but obey him.

  He turned and left her, bending his head to get through the low door and she heard him going rather cautiously down the twisting stairs.

  She put her hands up to her cheeks as if to prevent them from burning.

  She heard the door close and hurried down the stairs to take a kettle of hot water from the stove and stand it in the basin in the tiny scullery.

  Then she returned to the bedroom and hastily began to undress.

  It was growing late.

  Outside dusk was falling, but there was still the last glow in the sky to throw a golden light through the open windows.

  There was a fragrance of roses and stocks and Anthea could hear the rooks going to roost.

  She did not light the candles knowing that would bring in the moths. Instead she left the curtains undrawn and having put on one of the thin lace-trimmed nightgowns, which had been in her trousseau, she slipped into bed.

  ‘I will pretend to be asleep,’ she told herself. ‘Then tomorrow I will make all the explanations that have to be made.’

  It seemed incredible that the Duke had eaten, they had talked and yet they had not mentioned the reason why she had run away.

  ‘He is tired,’ Anthea told herself, ‘and he probably feels he could not face a scene at the moment.’

  She was determined there should not be one.

  He might have endangered his health in travelling all that way to Yorkshire and she thought that once again it was her own thoughtlessness that was responsible.

  ‘I should not have run away,’ she now told herself accusingly.

  She lay tense and trembling a little because there was so much she felt responsible for.

  And yet, even though she was nervous, it was impossible not to feel that the hard lump of unhappiness that had lain in her breast ever since she left London had vanished.

  She was with the Duke again! He was there! She could listen to his voice and he was even more wonderful than she had remembered!

  She did not dare ask herself why he had troubled to follow her.

  Could it be that he was so angry that he wanted them to separate from each other forever?

  She knew that this was a thought that had lain at the back of her mind all the time and frightened her more than anything else.

  ‘Oh, please God, let me see him – sometimes,’ she prayed. Please God – please – ’

  She heard his footsteps coming up the garden path.

  He shut the door, locked it and she heard him crossing the room downstairs.

  He was undressing and then she knew from the sound that he was washing in the small scullery at the back of the cottage.

  She hoped he would find the soap and a towel. She should have put everything ready for him, but she had been so bemused that she could think only of obeying his instructions and getting into bed as he had ordered her to do.

  Now she could hear him coming up the stairs and, because she was shy, she closed her eyes as he opened the door of the bedroom and came in.

  His side of the bed was only a few feet inside the door.

  With her eyes shut Anthea felt him get in and sink down in the feather mattress.

  She held her breath, wondering if he would turn over and go to sleep.

  But after a moment, as if he knew that she was awake, he said conversationally,

  “This is the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in.”

  “As you are so – tired, I am sure you – would sleep – anywhere.”

  “I am not as tired as I was,” he said, “and I am no longer worried about you, Anthea.”

  “You were – worried?”

  “Of course I was! How could you do anything so damnable as to run away without telling me where you were going? It was only after Dorkins announced dinner that I learnt you had gone!”

  “I-I am – sorry,” Anthea said in a very small voice.

  “Why did you go?”

  Anthea was so surprised at the question that she turned her head to look at him.

  It was difficult in the little light that remained in the room to see clearly, but, although his head was on the pillow, he was looking straight at her.

  “Y-you – know why I – went,” she managed to say after a moment.

  “You thought I would be angry,” the Duke said, “and I can understand that. But I wish you had trusted me.”

  “I-I wanted to tell you – when we were in – Brussels, but I was – afraid.”

  “Thais told me that you were trying to make some money because you were all so poor. I should have realised how very poor you were, Anthea.”

  There was a kindness in his voice that made Anthea feel suddenly very weak.

  She had expected him to be angry, she had expected him to demand an explanation, but kindness was something she had not expected.

  She stared at the window in front of her, feeling the tears come into her eyes.

  “Thais told me that the one hundred pound you obtained for the cartoons enabled you all to have extra food which you had never enjoyed before. As always, Anthea, you were thinking of your family.”

  The tears ran down Anthea’s cheeks, but she did not wipe them away.

  ‘If I don’t move,’ she thought to herself, ‘he will not notice.’

  There was silence before the Duke asked,

  “Are you crying, Anthea?”

  “N-no.”

  It was not a very convincing reply and after a moment he said,

  “Are you sure you are not crying?”

  It was impossible for Anthem to answer him.

  “To make certain,” the Duke said, “I am going to cross the Channel to see for myself. I do not want you to be unhappy.”

  Anthea gave a little sob and then her hands went up to her face.

  “I-I am – so sorry – ” she began to say and then burst into tears.

  She had not felt him move, but be was beside her and his arms went round her as she cried,

  “I am – s-sorry – I did not – mean it – I swea
r I did not m-mean it – I did not want to be unkind to Godmama or really to y-you – it just – happened and I am so – ashamed, so terribly ashamed at – what I have done.”

  It was impossible to say any more.

  She could only cry despairingly against him, all the misery of the last fortnight accumulating in a tempest that shook her whole body.

  “It’s all right,” the Duke said gently. “It’s all right.”

  She went on crying, realising she should stop herself, but was quite unable to do so.

  There was something very comforting about feeling his arms holding her close.

  Then, as her tears abated a little, he said softly,

  “It is all over. We can forget about it.”

  “We – cannot! We cannot do – that!” Anthea sobbed. “It was unlucky to – laugh at – love – and because – I did so – you had to – marry me.”

  “I have realised that,” the Duke said quietly, “and that is why I have something to tell you,”

  Anthea stiffened.

  She knew, she thought, what he was about to say.

  “When I thought it over,” he said, “I realised that it was very lucky for me that you did draw that particular cartoon.”

  Anthea thought she could not have heard him aright.

  She raised her face wet with her tears to look up at him.

  “It is quite simple, my darling. If you had not drawn it, we would not have been married and we would not be here now.”

  As the Duke spoke, he bent his head and his lips found hers.

  For a moment Anthea was too astonished to breathe. Then, as his mouth took possession of her, she felt a strange streak like quicksilver flash through her.

  It was so vivid, so poignant, that for a moment it was sheer pain, until it turned into an unbelievable rapture.

  He drew her closer and his lips became more possessive, more insistent, and she felt her whole body invaded with a warmth and a wonder she had never known before.

  It was an ecstasy beyond words, almost beyond thought, and it made her quiver with the glory of it.

  ‘This is love!’ she thought. ‘This is what Mama said it was like and it is even more marvellous!’

  Instinctively she drew closer to him, her body against his, her heart beating wildly, her lips very soft as she surrendered herself to the wonder of his.

  The Duke raised his head.

  “My darling one! My sweet!” he sighed unsteadily.

  “I love – you!” Anthea whispered. “I love – you!”

  Then the Duke was kissing her again, kissing her passionately, demandingly, masterfully, until she could no longer think.

  She only knew that her love reached out to him, so that she gave him not only her lips, but also her heart, her soul and her – body.

  They were one and there was nothing else but love.

  The moon shone through the small window, throwing a silver light onto the bed.

  “Are you – asleep?” Anthea whispered.

  “I am too happy to sleep,” the Duke answered.

  “But you must try. You have ridden such a long way today.”

  “Are you still molly-coddling me?” he asked with a note of amusement in his voice and pulled her nearer to him. “Oh, my precious little love, I cannot tell you how much I missed you when you were not there to bully me, to make me take care of myself!”

  “I thought – you would be – glad to be – rid of me.”

  “I think what I missed most,” the Duke said, “was your laughter. I have never known that days could be so long, so dull and lifeless!”

  “I laughed – at love – ”

  “Which you will never do again, my adorable wife! We will laugh together, but like the Gods only from sheer happiness. Together.”

  Anthea’s cheek was against his shoulder.

  “I suppose I fell in love with your dimples,” he ruminated. “They fascinate me. And your voice has some lilting quality in it that I have never heard in any other woman’s.”

  Anthea gave a deep sigh.

  “I was – always thinking how much I must – bore you after the brilliant and beautiful women you have known and – loved.”

  Her voice trembled on the last word.

  “I know now,” the Duke answered, “that I have never really been in love before. I have been attracted, enamoured, passionately aroused by many women, but I have never laughed with them.”

  “But you wanted to – make love – to them,” Anthea murmured.

  “I wanted to make love to you, too, but you would not let me.”

  “I have often thought during these – last weeks how – foolish it was of me.”

  “No, you were right!” the Duke said. “I was not offering you real love, Anthea, not at that moment! But when we were in Brussels, I found it increasingly hard not to touch you and not to come to your room after we had gone to bed.”

  “Why did you – not do – so?”

  “I suppose the truth was that I was too proud to risk being rebuffed for the second time,” he answered, “but every day I wanted you more. Every night was a frustration I hope never to repeat, knowing you were so near and yet the doors between us were closed.”

  “Is that – why you suggested we – slept here – tonight?” Anthea asked.

  “I will admit that fate played into my hands by producing a bed like this,” the Duke answered, “but I had no intention, Anthea, of letting you escape me a second time!”

  She gave a little cry.

  “I am glad – so very glad!”

  “Thais was sure you loved me, even if you were not aware of it.”

  “Thais?” Anthea questioned. “But how could she have known?”

  “Perhaps you are so close as a family that the girls know more about you than you know yourself. That is something I missed by being an only child.”

  “Thais was right!” Anthea cried. “I love you more than I can ever tell you! I love you with – every breath I draw – with every thought I think. There is only – you!”

  The Duke kissed her forehead, her eyes, her mouth and then her neck where a little pulse was beating madly.

  “I had no idea any woman could be so sweet, so soft, so adorable!” he breathed.

  There was a note of passion in his voice that made Anthea quiver.

  “I will – try to be exactly as you – want me to be, and I promise I will – never draw a picture again!”

  “I have every intention that you shall draw.”

  “You – want me to?” Anthea asked incredulously.

  “Not cartoons, my precious, except to amuse me. But you quite obviously have an extraordinary talent which I do not think should be wasted!”

  Anthea waited, wide-eyed.

  “What I suggest and I have been planning this all the time I have been trying to find you, is that you should have lessons from an artist who is really qualified to teach.”

  “Perhaps I can only – caricature people?”

  “We will find out for certain,” the Duke replied, “and I suggest we start by going to Italy.”

  “To Italy?” Anthea exclaimed.

  “I have, my sweet darling, been defrauded of a proper honeymoon!”

  He kissed her small nose before he added,

  “I have always understood that a honeymoon is a time for lovemaking.”

  He paused and asked,

  “That is if you agree, my sweetheart?”

  Anthea felt a little flame within her vibrate to the note in his voice.

  “I – agree,” she murmured against him.

  He kissed her hair.

  “I want to teach you about love, my darling, and I promise you that you will never escape me again.”

  “I – will – not want – to do so.”

  He kissed both her dimples before he continued,

  “I don’t think that either of us wish to go back to London at the moment. So I suggest we cross the real Channel again and travel to Italy, the Parad
ise of artists.”

  “I would love that!” Anthea cried. “I would love anywhere with you – but especially Italy!”

  “You shall study the works of Michelangelo in Florence and perhaps we will find someone to give you some lessons there before we visit Venice and then come home via Paris. There are some drawings in the Louvre I particularly want you to see.”

  “It sounds too – thrilling – too perfect!”

  “And when we return,” the Duke went on, “I think there are many things at Axminster House in Hampshire that will please you. But I know now it has always lacked something which you and I must provide.”

  “What is that?” Anthea enquired.

  He held her very close to him and his lips moved over the softness of her skin before he answered,

  “A family, my adorable wife. It is what I missed when I had no Thais, Chloe or Phebe to laugh with.”

  His lips were touching hers as he asked,

  “Will you give me beautiful daughters like you, my lovely one?”

  He felt the quiver that ran through her again before she whispered,

  “Only if – you will – give me lots of – sons exactly like you – ”

  She was unable to finish the sentence because he was kissing her with a passion that revealed the fire within him.

  It evoked an answering flame in Anthea and she clung to him knowing that once again he had aroused the incredible rapture and the blinding glory that she had always known was the essence of real love.

  It was everything that was beautiful and sacred, everything that she had heard in music, seen in painting and found in poetry.

  It was Divine and she must surrender herself to it completely and wholeheartedly.

  The Duke’s lips became more insistent.

  She could feel his hand touching her body and she could feel his heart beating against hers.

  Then there was only love and the laughter of the Gods.

  OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

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