Love in the Ruins

by Barbara Cartland

  Mimosa was hungry.

  She enjoyed the yoghurt, which she knew was served in every Tunisian house and really appreciated the typical native dish that followed it.

  It was accompanied by mint tea, the national beverage in all Arab countries.

  She realised that the Duke was in a hurry to be leaving.

  He went to fetch the horses before she had finished eating.

  They thanked the Imam profusely for his hospitality.

  The Duke left on the table a large sum of money ‘for those who worshipped in the Mosque’.

  Then once again they were on their way.

  They rode fast, but Mimosa thought that it was a long time before they once again saw the aqueduct.

  Then she knew that they would soon be in Tunis.

  It was in fact not yet five o’clock in the afternoon when they climbed the steep hill to Sidi Bou Said and reached the Villa.

  “We are back!” Mimosa exclaimed in a rapturous voice.

  She and the Duke had hardly spoken a word since they had left the Imam.

  “You must now go and rest,” he urged her.

  It was the one thing she really wanted to do.

  She dreaded the idea of having to explain to Suzette where they had been and what had happened.

  As they entered the house, Jacques gave a shout of delight.

  A moment later Jenkins came hurrying down the stairs.

  “We didn’t expect Your Grace back so soon!” he said.

  “The reason for that you will hear later,” the Duke replied. “Miss Tison is very tired and needs to rest immediately.”

  “Of course,” Jenkins agreed.

  He ran ahead of her as Mimosa climbed very slowly up the stairs.

  She expected to hear Suzette’s voice at any moment. However, when the femme de chambre came to help her undress, she said,

  “I’m afraid, m’mselle, there be bad news of Madame Blanc.”

  “Bad news?” Mimosa questioned.

  “She was so ill yesterday we sent for the doctor. He said it was not migraine she was sufferin’ from, but a fever!”

  Mimosa looked at the maid in surprise and she went on,

  “They took her away to the hospital where she will have proper treatment.”

  “I am sorry, very sorry,” Mimosa managed to say.

  Truthfully, of course, she was very relieved.

  She would not now have to talk to Suzette and tell her all that had happened to her and the Duke, when all she wanted to do was to rest.

  She slept peacefully for three hours.

  When she awoke, feeling very much better, she rang the bell.

  “I have been asleep,” she said unnecessarily when the femme de chambre appeared.

  “Monsieur le Duc said we were to leave you to rest,” the maid replied. “He’s ordered dinner for nine o’clock and hopes you’ll join him, if you feel well enough.”

  Mimosa jumped out of bed.

  “I feel perfectly well, but I would like a bath.”

  This would have caused a commotion in an ordinary French household.

  However, Comte André had been very concerned for his own comfort. He had had installed a bathroom next to the room where Mimosa was sleeping.

  Cold water came from a tap, which, Mimosa was aware, was very up to date and modern.

  The hot water had to be carried up the stairs.

  After her bath scented with flowers, she put on one of her prettiest evening gowns in the wardrobe.

  When she went downstairs, her eyes were shining with excitement.

  She was longing to see the Duke again and to talk to him.

  She was only terribly afraid that he would vanish as speedily as he could after such an uncomfortable experience.

  He was waiting for her in the room that looked out over the garden and wearing his evening clothes.

  As she came into the room and stood just inside the door for a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

  Then he asked in a deep voice,

  “You are better?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Mimosa replied. “I feel so much better after a good sleep.”

  “That is what I want to hear,” he smiled. “There is a glass of champagne waiting for us to celebrate our return and it is entirely thanks to you that we are both safe and unhurt.”

  “It will make a fascinating story to include in your book,” Mimosa ventured, “and I only hope you collected enough material before we were so rudely interrupted.”

  The Duke was pouring out the champagne. He handed a glass to her and then he raised his own.

  “To a very wonderful and brave young woman!” he toasted.

  They drank and, as they did so, Jacques announced that dinner was served.

  The chef, considering that he had not expected them back so soon, excelled himself.

  Or perhaps, Mimosa thought, it was because she was with the Duke.

  Every mouthful tasted like ambrosia and every sip of wine like nectar.

  Because both Jenkins and Jacques were in the dining room they did not talk of the kidnapping, but only of Thuburbo Maius. They discussed what else might be discovered when the site was fully excavated.

  They then returned to the sitting room.

  The lamps had been lit but the windows were open into the garden.

  Outside the stars were like sharp diamonds in the sky.

  The moon, which had guided them to safety the night before, was casting its silver light on the sea.

  Mimosa walked over to the window.

  As she felt the Duke come up behind her, she asked him,

  “What are – you going – to do now?”

  It was a question that had been hovering on her lips all the evening.

  She knew if he said that he was leaving almost immediately, she would want to cry.

  Because she was afraid of revealing her feelings, she clasped her fingers into the palms of her hand. She was trying by every means to force herself to appear controlled.

  “I will answer that later,” the Duke said after a slight pause, “but first I have some questions to ask you.”

  Mimosa instantly felt apprehensive.

  “What – questions?” she enquired.

  “First of all,” the Duke said, “how is it possible that you have such a wide knowledge of Roman ruins?”

  Mimosa did not answer and he went on,

  “Also, living, as you said you did, between America and England, how can you be so perfect in Arabic?”

  Mimosa groped for an answer, but could not find one.

  The Duke drew a little nearer to her.

  Then he quizzed her,

  “If you will not answer those questions, will you tell me how many men have kissed you before I did so yesterday?”

  The question came as such a surprise that Mimosa started.

  Instinctively she told the truth.

  “No one – no one has – kissed me,” she whispered, “except – you.”

  The Duke reached out his arms and turned her slowly round to face him.

  “That is what I thought when I kissed you,” he murmured.

  “So perhaps now you will explain to me why you are here and masquerading as Miss Minerva Tison!”

  He spoke slowly, his hands holding Mimosa by the shoulders so that she could not escape from him.

  She glanced up at him and then quickly away again before she stammered almost incoherently,

  “Why do you – ask me such a thing? It’s a – question I – cannot answer!”

  “Why not?” the Duke demanded.

  Because she could not think what to say, Mimosa murmured,

  “I-I think I should – go to bed.”

  She tried to move away, but the Duke’s hands still held her.

  “I want an answer,” he said, “and it is very important.”

  “Why should it – be important?” Mimosa asked. “You have – seen Thuburbo Maius, which is – what you came – to see. What – more can – yo
u want?”

  “I want you!” the Duke replied very quietly.

  She was so astonished that her eyes opened wide and she looked up at him.

  Then it was impossible to look away.

  “I love you!” the Duke said softly. “I want you to be my wife.”

  He spoke the words with a sincerity that could not be misunderstood.

  Mimosa stared at him as if she could not believe what she was hearing.

  Then her whole face was transformed with a radiance that the Duke thought was not of this world.

  He had never imagined that any woman could look so beautiful, so spiritual or so inspirational.

  Then, as Mimosa realised what his words involved, the radiance vanished and she whispered,

  “No – no! I cannot – marry you!”

  “Why not? Why are you refusing me?” the Duke asked.

  Because she could not escape from him, Mimosa moved forward to hide her face against his shoulder.

  His arms tightened.

  In a voice he could hardly hear she said,

  “I love you – but I have – lied to – you.”

  “I thought perhaps you had.”

  “I could not – help it – there was nothing else I – c-could do.”

  The Duke kissed her hair before he asked,

  “Tell me why you lied.”

  “I-I am not – Minerva Tison – .”

  “I guessed that,” the Duke interrupted. “In fact I believe that you are the daughter of Sir Richard Shenson.”

  Mimosa was so surprised that she raised her head to look up at him.

  “W-why do you think – that?” she asked.

  “When you knew how you could save us from the kidnappers,” the Duke replied, “you said, ‘Papa told me that there are steps that would lead up onto the platform’.”

  Mimosa drew in her breath.

  “So – that was how you – knew who – I was!”

  She hid her face once again against his shoulder.

  “I was already bewildered and extremely curious,” the Duke said, “because you seemed so pure and innocent that I could not believe any actress would play a part so skilfully.”

  As he spoke, the Duke put his fingers under Mimosa’s chin and turned her face up to his.

  “When I kissed you,” he said softly, “I was quite certain you had never been kissed before.”

  His lips came down on hers.

  Just as she had in the chamber, Mimosa felt a streak of ecstasy run through her.

  It was as if a rapture beyond words swept her up amongst the stars and into the Heavens.

  The Duke kissed her until they were both flying in the sky.

  The stars were not only overhead but in Mimosa’s breast.

  It was a long time later before the Duke said,

  “I love you and, although you may not believe it, I swear to you, my darling, that is something I have never said to any other woman.”

  There was a slight touch of mockery in his voice as he added,

  “And I have never asked anybody else to marry me.”

  “I – love you – I love – you,” Mimosa whispered, “but how can you – want to marry me – when I have been so deceitful?”

  “You have not yet told me why you pretended to be Miss Tison,” the Duke said.

  “She was my cousin – and when I suddenly – found after Papa died – that I had no money – not a penny – left in the Bank – I knew that she was the – only person if I could find her who would – help me.”

  “You did not at that moment know that she was in Tunis,” the Duke asked perceptively.

  Mimosa shook her head.

  “I had no idea of it until I read in the newspaper that she had been – kidnapped, but that there had been – no demand made for – a ransom as the Police had expected – there would be.”

  Now the Duke understood why he had been told that Miss Tison had arrived home having apparently lost her memory.

  “Because we – were so – alike,” Mimosa was saying, “no one – questioned that – I was not Minerva. Then when I learned about – Comte André, I – was shocked and – upset at the way – she had behaved.”

  The Duke’s arms tightened as he remarked,

  “The Comte is a very attractive man and it is difficult for any woman to resist him. I can quite understand that your cousin, having lost her father and mother so tragically, depended on him and quite naturally fell in love.”

  “You understand – you really do understand!” Mimosa said. “I thought that no one – ever would – but then – you are different.”

  “I hope so,” the Duke said. “And now, my lovely one, you have to make people accept you as yourself and we must forget that you ever came here pretending to be your cousin.”

  As he spoke, he thought that, unless he was mistaken, there was only Madame Blanc, who was in hospital, the servants and the Police who had interrogated her.

  He thought that it would be quite easy to convince them that she after all, was not Minerva.

  She had in fact lost her memory, but it was owing to the shock of losing her father so suddenly and she could revert to being herself again without too much difficulty.

  Then he said,

  “It may seem a strange question to ask you, my darling, but – what is your real name?”

  Mimosa laughed.

  “Is it really – true that you do – not know it?”

  “How can I?” he asked. “I am only aware that you are the daughter of a very brilliant man, whose book we will publish as soon as we return to England.”

  “Would you – really do that – for Papa?” Mimosa asked.

  “Of course I will!” the Duke promised. “But I would still like to know the name of his daughter.”

  “It is – ‘Mimosa’.”

  “Your name is as beautiful as you are!” the Duke breathed.

  He kissed her again until it was impossible for her to think of anything but the wonder of his kisses.

  The wild sensations they created within her were beyond anything that she could have ever imagined.

  Then the Duke said,

  “I must send you to bed, my darling.”

  “I-I don’t want to – leave you,” Mimosa whispered.

  “And I have no wish for you to leave me,” the Duke said in a deep voice. “Never again, my beautiful one, will I sleep beside you as I did last night without touching you.”

  He gazed at her with love in his eyes before he continued,

  “I therefore suggest we are married as quickly as possible and enjoy a honeymoon before we return to England.”

  Mimosa looked up at him in wonder.

  “Can we – really do that?” she asked.

  “It is what we are going to do, but I think it is a mistake after what has happened to stay any longer in Tunisia. There are many other places we can visit and the most comfortable way to do so would be for me to hire a yacht. Then there will be no problems as to where we stay the night.”

  Mimosa gave a little cry of delight.

  “I would love that – I would love it!” she cried. “But – I would be happy – anywhere with – you.”

  “I have never before known any woman who could say that and make me believe she is telling the truth,” the Duke said. “You slept alone in your tent without complaint and you also slept very peacefully on the Imam’s divan!”

  Mimosa smiled.

  “I don’t remember anything about it! When I realised this morning that you had slept beside me – I felt shy.”

  “I adore you when you are shy,” the Duke said, “and I have never seen anyone look as beautiful as you do when you blush!”

  Mimosa blushed instantly and hid her face against his shoulder.

  “I have just thought,” the Duke said, “that I have not asked you who your mother was. I know now that she was the sister of Clint Tison’s wife. I assumed that she was American.”

  “Oh, no!” Mimosa answered. “S
he and Mama were the daughters of the Earl of Crombefield. He tried to arrange marriages for them and never spoke to them again after they both ran away with the man they loved.”

  The Duke stared at her.

  “Crombefield!” he exclaimed. “I know the present Earl. In fact he is a distant relative of my mother’s.”

  As he spoke, he thought that his relatives would be delighted that he was marrying Mimosa.

  It did not matter in the least to him who she was because he loved her.

  But it would make things easier for her and for her position at Court if it was known that her blood was as blue as his.

  His arms tightened round Mimosa and he told himself that she was sublimely perfect in every possible way.

  “Supposing,” she said in a small voice, “you – find me very – dull after all the – exciting sophisticated women you have – known in London and Paris.”

  Thoughts of Lady Sybil and La Belle passed briefly through the Duke’s mind.

  He knew they were now of no interest to him.

  In a short while he would be unable to remember what they looked like and would even forget their names.

  He was intensely aware that Mimosa was so utterly different.

  She would want to take part in his adventures in archaeology and she would know and appreciate that this was a very important part of his life.

  She would grace his great house in the country and the others he owned in London and other parts of England.

  She would be completely adaptable not only because she was intelligent but also because she loved him.

  Her love was different from anything he had ever known before because for the moment it was entirely spiritual.

  He would teach her the physical joys of their love.

  He was quite certain that, just as he was the first and only man to kiss her, he would be the last.

  She would remain his in the years to come and for ever.

  He drew her a little closer as if to make sure that she was his and that no one could take her away from him.

  Then he declared,

  “I will make all the arrangements for us to be married tomorrow or the next day very quietly. Then we will find exactly the right yacht to hire. We will leave the Villa and set out to explore not only new places in the Mediterranean but also ourselves.”

  Mimosa gave a little gasp of joy.

  Then she said,

  “You – you have – forgiven me for – lying to you – and for pretending to be my cousin? If she had been alive – I know she would have helped me – and we would have been happy together as – we were when we were children.”