The Star of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  He was disgusted with himself.

  Taking a deep breath, he took hold of her arms and pushed her away from him.

  “No!” he said hoarsely.

  He had a blinding glimpse of her face, the large eyes gazing at him in troubled disbelief.

  “No,” he said again. “This cannot happen. It’s unforgivable.”

  He meant that his own behaviour was unforgivable, but he knew she had not interpreted it like that.

  “I don’t – understand,” she said softly.

  “Of course not. You’re too young and innocent. blame myself. I had no right –”

  “Oh is that all?” she asked, her face lightening. “But if I give you the right – ”

  He turned sharply away to hide the leap of hope and temptation in his eyes. Why must she be such a darling, so ready to love him?

  “You imagine it’s that easy? We’ve met twice, and you think if a man kisses you in the moonlight that means he’s a man of honour? You know nothing about men and nothing about me. You should be more careful.”

  She stared at him. He could not look at that gaze lest he would see too clearly that she was suffering. He couldn’t bear her to be hurt, but he went on hurting her anyway, hurling cruel, insulting words at her, hoping to turn her against him so that she might never tempt him again.

  If only he could tell her that he was torturing himself as much as her and doing it for her sake.

  “I thought I did know you,” Cliona said in a dazed voice. “As soon as we met I felt you were good and kind –”

  “A very common feminine mistake, to read too much into too little. You trusted me too easily. Doesn’t this prove it? No man who was good and kind would be here with you, talking like this.”

  He heard her gasp of pain and it nearly broke him, but he drove himself on.

  “You’re a very sweet but naïve girl. I took advantage of you, but I won’t do so any more. Someone should have warned you. I’m not a man of good reputation where women are concerned.”

  “Is that what – ?” Her hand flew to her mouth as she bit back the words.

  “What?” he asked, regarding her and longing with all his heart to take her in his arms and kiss her hurt away. “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing – nothing, I just – it was only – I misunderstood.”

  He could hear the tears in her voice and hated himself with a loathing so intense he could almost taste it. He knew he had given her pain that was almost past bearing, but he could see no other way of saving her from him. How could he blurt out the truth? How could he say – ‘

  I need a great heiress, someone with far more money than you could possibly have. And so I will kill the beauty that has arisen between us, so that it can never weaken my resolve.’

  Impossible.

  And equally impossible to add,

  ‘If I have to break your heart, it is only to protect you from my worst self. My own heart is already breaking at the thought of turning away from the finest gift life will ever offer me.’

  He pulled himself together, and spoke to her formally.

  “Lady Cliona, I must ask you to forgive me. I have behaved as no man should behave to a lady who is a guest under his roof. I forgot the courtesy that was due to you. I can only assure you that such rudeness will never happen again.”

  “Stop!” she cried wildly, “Stop, stop! Don’t talk to me in that horrid, dead voice – as though there had been nothing between us –”

  “But there can be nothing between us, for reasons that I cannot explain to you. It was wrong – very wrong – for me to – ” he stopped with a shudder.

  In the silence he could sense her waiting for him to finish, hoping against all hope to take some comfort from his final words.

  “It was wrong of me,” he said again heavily.

  Her head went up. She was a girl of spirit.

  “In that case my Lord, I am surprised that you did what you knew to be wrong,” she said defiantly.

  “You have every right to be angry with me. The only explanation I can give is that I – a momentary weakness –”

  “But now you have managed to overcome it?” she asked fiercely.

  “Yes, I had no right to – ”

  He gave up trying to put it into words and reluctantly met her gaze. Her eyes were full of anger, bitterness, contempt, and he tried to tell himself that it was better that way.

  “Please forgive me,” he said at last. “And be kind enough to forget that this ever happened.”

  “I will gladly forget,” she said in a firm voice. “I will try to forget everything about this evening. I will forget that I ever met you.”

  But she could not sustain her anger against her misery. The next moment she dropped her face into her hands with a sob.

  For Charles the temptation to enfold her in his arms was unbearable. In another minute he would weaken.

  “I think you should go in now,” he said in a jerky voice. “I will follow later. Let us hope that nobody saw us.”

  She lowered her hands and he saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes, and the tremor that went through her slight body. The next moment she was running away from him like a gazelle. He watched her go, feeling that all life was over for him.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered. “My darling – try to forgive me.”

  *

  Cliona ran to within a few yards of the steps that led down to the lawn from the French windows of the music room. Then she pulled herself up short, realising how impossible it would be for her to burst through those windows, with all the attention she would attract.

  She leaned against the wall, heaving with distress, trying to control the tears that poured down her cheeks. For a few blinding minutes she had been surrounded by love, blessed by love.

  She knew the world would say that she had behaved disgracefully, going off alone with him, kissing him on such short acquaintance, abandoning maidenly modesty for the joy of being in his arms.

  But her heart had instinctively trusted him. It had told her that his feelings for her were sincere, and she could put her hand into his and her heart into his keeping without fear.

  And then her trust had been thrown cruelly back into her face. One moment he had taken her into his arms. She had sensed his passion with her own rising to meet his.

  More than that, she had felt his aching need for her and his readiness to yield to that need. But the next moment he had lashed her with scorn for her shameless behaviour.

  ‘Not a man of good reputation where women are concerned.’

  Those were his own words about himself. And how could she doubt them, coming from such a source?

  She had been warned. The conversation she had overheard between her aunt and uncle had hinted at just such a thing. And she had been intrigued to the point of seeking him out next morning, riding onto his land and letting him find her.

  It had been part of a game, the kind that young maidens played all the time while they prepared for the great decisions of their lives. Behind the façade of etiquette they flirted, laughed, teased and loved. How else were they to discover what they needed to know before the final choice was made?

  But it had ceased to be a game when she met a man whose smiles concealed sadness, and sensed the unspoken burden that came near to crushing him. After that she had cared only for becoming the one who eased his pain.

  Because of that she had opened her arms to him, in love and total trust.

  And been brutally snubbed.

  The steps outside the French windows made a semi-circle, so she could sit down on them by the wall, out of sight of those within. It was there that Freddy found her a few minutes later.

  “I say, I wondered where you’d vanished to. Have you been out here on your own all this time?”

  “It’s nice out here alone,” she said, not answering directly. “I can sit and listen to the music in peace. That violin solo was lovely.”

  “Is that was made you cry?”
/>   “I’m not crying,” she said firmly.

  Freddy said nothing. Beneath his light-hearted manner, he had a good deal of insight.

  After a while, he said,

  “Perhaps we should go in now. People will wonder where you are.”

  “Are you worried about my reputation?” she asked in a wobbly voice.

  “Lord no! Your reputation’s safe enough with me. Everyone knows I’m just an idiot and they will say, ‘Oh, she’s only been with old Freddy.’ I’m like a carpet slipper, ma’am, I do assure you.”

  She managed a shaky laugh.

  “In that case, let’s go in together.”

  “The story of my life,” he sighed, helping her to her feet. “Pretty girls are always ready to take my arm because they know I’m safe. Insulting really.”

  “Dear Freddy, I promise you, one day soon, mothers will be warning their daughters not to be alone with ‘that dangerous man’.”

  “Really ma’am? I say, just think of that!”

  Together they went inside.

  Charles, watching them from the shadow of the trees, gave silent thanks to his cousin for protecting his beloved. He waited ten minutes before entering the music room through another door. Cliona and Freddy were sitting at the piano in another rousing duet.

  She sang with a smile on her face, and raised her voice in the chorus as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Now and then she and her musical partner exchanged smiles, and nobody could have told that only a few minutes earlier she had been distraught.

  ‘What courage!’ Charles thought in admiration. ‘No self-pity or airs to make herself interesting. She’ll fly her brave pennants before the entire world. But why the devil couldn’t I have handled it better?’

  The song came to an end with the performers collapsing against each other in mirth. Everyone applauded them, including their host who came forward from his place by the door.

  “Freddy you dog, trust you to bag the guest of honour for yourself. Lady Cliona, I apologise for my cousin. I hope he hasn’t been boring you.”

  “On the contrary, I have found Mr Mason’s company most welcome,” she said in her gentle voice that thrilled his senses.

  He winced and braced himself for the reproach in her eyes, but she was looking at some point just beyond his shoulder.

  “I suppose we should be going,” said Lady Arnfield. “Charles dear, it has been such a lovely evening.” There was a general murmur of agreement and a rustle of skirts as everyone rose to take their leave.

  The polite words were said, “Charming – you must dine with us – so good to see you – we look forward to the races – ”

  They were moving out into the hall. Servants brought cloaks, gloves and top hats. Charles, Lady Hester and the Countess moved among the guests, murmuring courtesies.

  Charles bid goodnight to Sir Kenton and Lady Arnfield. Cliona inclined her head, a meaningless smile on her lips and again her eyes did not meet his.

  But when Freddy took her hand she smiled at him and murmured gently, “thank you, Freddy.”

  Lady Markham extended her hand in farewell.

  “Such a delightful evening – good heavens! What was that?”

  Heads turned at the sound of wheels on the drive, voices, feet descending and approaching the front door.

  “Somebody made a mistake about the time,” said Lord Markham jovially. “No use turning up now, what?”

  “Who is missing?” the Countess hooted. “I thought everyone was here.”

  “Everybody is here,” said Charles. “This is something unexpected. I do hope it isn’t bad news.”

  Watkins moved loftily towards the front door, opened it and stood back to reveal the newcomer.

  Gradually a silence fell over the guests assembled in the hall as they saw who was there.

  The Countess gasped.

  Lady Hester’s hand flew to her mouth.

  Standing in the doorway, elegant, handsome and composed, stood John Baxter.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After the first thunderstruck moment, Charles forced himself to behave normally. Of those present, he was sure most would have heard of his cousin John, but some of them would not know him by sight.

  “John,” he said, in a neutral voice. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

  “It’s just like your generosity to say so, Charles,” replied John, advancing into the hall. “But I doubt there’s much pleasure for you. I didn’t treat you well the last time I was here, did I? I wouldn’t blame you for throwing me out.”

  “Of course I’m not going to do that.”

  John extended his hand.

  “Will you shake my hand then? Say I am forgiven and let bygones be bygones?”

  Charles had no choice but to do so. It was either that or risk an open scandal. Besides, although confused and baffled by his behaviour, he was by no means reluctant. His heart was warm and his nature not quarrelsome. Whatever John might be up to, Charles was glad of a truce.

  The cousins shook hands. John’s whole manner was frank, manly and attractive. The onlookers were agreeably impressed, as they could hardly fail to be, by the picture of humility on the one side and graciousness on the other.

  Two such handsome young men, so alike, so splendid!

  That was what they thought.

  With the same quiet air John kissed his grandmother, then his aunt. They embraced him warmly, and Charles could see that they at least were made happy by this visit and by his manner.

  “Forgive me for taking you by surprise while you have guests,” John said meekly to Charles. “It’s outrageous of me. I’ll retire quietly.”

  “Stay and be introduced first,” said Charles agreeably. “Lord and Lady Markham, this is my cousin John. Vicar – ”

  With a modest, agreeable air, John began to do the rounds of the guests, paying each of them a flattering attention that suggested he had been waiting just for this moment. To remarks about his likeness to his cousin, he smiled as though hearing them for the first time instead of the thousandth.

  The Arnfields had met him before and knew the story of his behaviour, yet even they were briefly melted by his charm, which, as Charles knew, was considerable when he put his mind to it.

  “It’s so nice to see you again,” he told them. “Sir Kenton, I recall the privilege of riding one of your horses some months back. It has remained one of my most pleasant memories.”

  “Ah, you mean Sabre,” exclaimed Sir Kenton, softened by any reference to his horses. “Fine animal, but not everyone can ride him as you did.”

  “You are too kind.”

  He saw Cliona looking at John with a slight frown on her enchanting face, and knew that the moment could not be put off any longer.

  “Lady Cliona,” he said formally, “my cousin, John Baxter. John, Lady Cliona Locksley.”

  “Your servant, ma’am.”

  “Sir,” she murmured. “I’ll have your bags taken up to your room, John,” said Charles abruptly.

  “That’s very kind of you, cousin,” said John. “Lady Cliona.” He bowed.

  She returned a small curtsy and made for the door with her uncle and aunt. It was the signal for everyone to leave.

  “You’ve been a very bad boy,” the Countess told John as soon as they were alone. “Come to my room. I have strong things to say to you.”

  “Yes, Grandmama,” he said meekly.

  “What are you up to, John?” asked Freddy darkly.

  “You don’t fool me with this meek and mild manner.”

  “I never expected you to believe me, Freddy,” said John.

  “You think you’re going to get away with it?”

  “Of course he isn’t going to get away with it,” said the Countess. “He has behaved very badly, and I shall tell him so.”

  She departed up the stairs with Lady Hester and John.

  “Much good that will do!” Freddy said wrathfully.

  “Hush, Freddy,” said Charles. “I’m as suspicious as
you, but let us wait and see what happens. It gives his grandmother pleasure.”

  “And what about you? How can you take him back after he pulled a gun on you?” For Charles had wryly confided that story to Freddy the previous day.

  “How could I turn him out? He is still my cousin. Besides, he clearly has something on his mind, and I’ll feel safer when I know what it is.”

  It was a couple of hours before he saw John again. During that time his cousin had visited the ladies, meekly endured a lecture from the Countess with occasional interventions from Lady Hester. He had followed this with an ample supper, during which he consumed half the contents of a brandy decanter.

  He then carried the rest to the library where, as expected, he found Charles and Freddy. Freddy, sprawled in a chair eyed him with disfavour. Charles, his feet up on the leather sofa, saw the decanter and held out his glass.

  John filled it, then Freddy’s, and sat down.

  “It was bad form of me to arrive like that, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Uninvited and walking in without a by-your leave, when you had guests. But you see, I was afraid that if I wrote first you would refuse to see me. Not that I blame you, you understand. My behaviour last time we met was appalling.”

  “True,” Charles replied without heat.

  “If it had been me I’d have turned the gun back on you and shot you down like a dog,” Freddy said frankly.

  “Then I can only be thankful I had the good sense to stay away from you,” observed John wryly. “What a violent young devil you are!”

  “I’m violent?” said Freddy in disgust. “It wasn’t me who pulled a gun on Charles.”

  “Stop being so melodramatic, Freddy,” said Charles wearily. “I’m sorry I told you about it now. It was only a popgun and he didn’t fire it.”

  “He would have done,” said Freddy.

  “Yes, I think I would,” John reflected. “I was mad, you see, mad with rage. Now I’ve had time to calm down, I am so glad I didn’t.”

  “Thank you,” said Charles ironically.

  “You did me a good turn, Charles, forcing me to take responsibility for my own actions. In the past you’ve given in to me too easily. This time you refused and it was right. You should have done so before.”