Sailing to Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “Did you really think I would be as bad as that?”

  “It was not exactly bad,” she replied, “but it is what one often finds in an Englishman while Frenchmen, Germans and Italians are quite different.”

  He considered this statement for a moment. Then he looked at her as though expecting her to say something. But the silence dragged on and on.

  “Are you not going to ask me about my impressions of you?” he said at last.

  Venetia looked at him out of bland, guileless eyes.

  “No,” she said simply. “Ah, here’s the next course.”

  They fell silent while the waiter removed their plates, served more food and replenished the wine.

  For a while they ate in silence, each waiting for the other to speak. The Earl was the one who gave in.

  “All right, I’ll tell you. When I saw you for the first time for dinner at your Uncle’s house, I thought you were very pretty. In fact too pretty to be good at anything except being kissed and your conversation would be limited to the compliments you expected me to pay you.”

  “I only wish,” Venetia said, “I had something I could throw at you. That was an insult.”

  “Really?”

  “Why should you think I expected compliments when you were there to marry another woman? As you thought.”

  “As I thought,” he echoed wryly. “My experience is that women always expect compliments, from any man, no matter what he’s there for. If they don’t get them, they’re insulted. If they do get them, they’re insulted on behalf of some other woman. A man never knows where he is or what is expected of him.”

  “Don’t try to make yourself sound like an injured innocent,” Venetia told him severely. “You will never be convincing.”

  “I bow to your greater wisdom in these matters, ma’am.”

  “And if it’s a crime to look pretty and be willing to receive compliments, then in future I will dress myself in rags and treat a man as if he is dirt beneath my feet.”

  “You mean, like you treat me?” he demanded.

  She smiled, but did not answer.

  They did not linger over their coffee.

  “We have a long and exhausting day buying clothes tomorrow,” he said. “We should head back to the ship for an early night.”

  All the way back in the carriage, Venetia was wondering if the evening would end in the same way as last night.

  As they stepped down to the suite he said,

  “I ought to thank you for your generosity.”

  “How?”

  “I’m talking about your bruise, and the way you made it clear to everyone that I was not to blame, and also concealed the fact that I slept in another room.”

  She faced him.

  “I fight fair,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “So I see. But tell me one thing. Am I really blameless?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When I threw you onto the bed – are you sure it didn’t happen then? I turned away at once and didn’t see whether, perhaps, I had injured you.”

  “You didn’t,” she assured him. “You are not to blame, in any way. What is it?”

  She asked because he was regarding her with a look of quizzical irony.

  “You missed your chance,” he said.

  “My chance to do what?”

  “To put your foot on my neck. You had only to say that I was the brute who had injured you and I couldn’t say anything. You had me at your mercy, and you let me go.”

  “But of course I did,” she replied at once. “Why should I want a foe whose neck is beneath my heel? There’s no fun in that.”

  “And what would you consider ‘fun’?”

  “A fair fight, face to face, man to man.”

  “By heaven, madam, you have a strange idea of fun! Let’s fight man to woman. There’s far more ‘fun’ in that.”

  “I shall look forward to it.”

  He raised her hand to his lips.

  “The truth is as I said. You are a generous woman.”

  “Certainly not,” she said, shocked. “I just enjoy drawing matters out.”

  “Do not argue with me, madam. I say you are generous and you have earned my respect. There isn’t another woman alive who could have resisted such an opportunity to gain advantage over a man. What a rare being you must be.”

  While she struggled to find an answer, he turned her hand over and brushed his lips against her palm. At once she was swept by a tide of sensation that almost made her gasp.

  It streamed along her arm, then right through her, inflaming her whole body with thrilling sensation.

  The force of it almost overpowered her, but she fought back, refusing to let him know. Things were better between them, but she knew there was still a long way to go.

  She looked up and for a moment their eyes met.

  Then he released her hand.

  “Goodnight,” he said. “Sleep well.”

  And he walked away without another word.

  *

  The next morning they returned to the shop, where the owner recognised Venetia and at once plunged into the exciting job of providing her with a new wardrobe in double quick time.

  She promised that every seamstress in Gibraltar would be pressed into service and several new gowns would be ready by that evening.

  They spent the day sightseeing, visiting the rock and seeing the apes. Venetia discovered how pleasant it could be to travel with someone who enjoyed a good argument.

  She had been too young when she was with her father to argue with him, even though she listened to him having serious and often important conversations with other men.

  Looking back she thought they took themselves very seriously and seldom laughed.

  It was quite different from the way she argued with the Earl, as they seemed to end up by laughing not only at each other but at themselves.

  That evening they dined with the Captain and the First Officer. The Captain explained that there would be a further delay as he had sent for a new engine part. But he hoped it would arrive tomorrow and they could proceed the day after.

  As he spoke he could not resist a glance of admiration at Venetia, who was looking ravishing in a new gown of primrose yellow tulle. He averted his gaze quickly, but the First Officer was less successful.

  He was a young man whose experience of beautiful girls was limited and Venetia’s presence overwhelmed him. Try as he might he could not prevent his eyes straying in her direction and staring at her, in defiance of propriety, until a cough from his Captain recalled him to reality.

  The Earl watched, saying nothing, smiling enigmatically.

  “That young man is in love with you,” he said as they strolled on deck on the moonlight after dinner.

  “Oh, nonsense!” she said lightly.

  “Don’t tell me nonsense. He’s got the look of a dying calf – a sure sign. I’m sure you’ve seen it often enough. Come Venetia, you must have seen enough men in love with you to be able to tell.”

  “I certainly thought he admired me,” she said. “But perhaps he was just being polite.”

  “You don’t believe that. And you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Did you ask one?”

  “I asked about the men who have been in love with you.”

  She shrugged.

  “I’ve lived a very quiet life,” she sighed. “It has not been full of male company, as you seem to suggest.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “I have met quite a number of men since I ‘came out’,” she said, “but I have not fallen in love. I thought I was in love once and became engaged. But he broke it off because I was not rich enough and I forgot him easily.

  “There was another man my parents wanted me to marry, but I didn’t love him at all. They were very upset, but I wanted love, the love which comes from the heart and the soul, and is very hard to find.”

  “And don’t you still want that?” he ask
ed, looking at her curiously.

  “It’s an ideal,” she said with a sigh. “But life doesn’t live up to the ideal, does it? Or not very often. Haven’t you found that?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “Of course I have been attracted by women but, somehow, they have disappointed me and never made me feel I couldn’t live without them.”

  “That is what Mary felt,” Venetia said. “In fact she said she would rather die than not be married to the man she loves.”

  “Can we not discuss Mary any more?” he asked in a rather tense voice. “I think it’s time to leave her behind and concentrate on ourselves.”

  “Yes, we should leave her far behind,” Venetia agreed. “She has made her choice, and I believe she will be very happy.”

  “And what of you and I, who have no choice?” he asked.

  “Perhaps we still do. It may yet be possible for us to part quietly.”

  “You think so, do you?” he asked quizzically.

  In truth, she did not. There were feelings inside her now that she knew would make it impossible for her to leave him. But she did not want to look at them too closely as yet.

  “I think I’ll retire,” she said hurriedly. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, my dear.”

  He did not try to accompany her below, but stood by the rail watching until she had disappeared. Then he turned and stared out over the water.

  *

  Next day they returned to the shop where Venetia’s new wardrobe was being assembled. The Earl paid out a sum that seemed enormous to her, but which he barely seemed to notice. Then, after a leisurely lunch, they made their way back to the ship.

  It was as the carriage was drawing up on the quay that Venetia suddenly said,

  “Look, over there.”

  “Where?” He was trying to follow her pointing finger.

  “That man. It looks like Lord Anthony.”

  “It can’t be. What could he be doing – good heavens!”

  The tall willowy young man, at whom they were both looking, turned and waved to them, his face brilliant with delight.

  “By all that’s wonderful, it is Anthony,” the Earl cried. “Here old fellow!”

  They both stepped down from the carriage as Lord Anthony began to run towards them.

  “I say,” he called eagerly. “I say.”

  The two men clasped each other in a vigorous bear hug, while Venetia stood watching them, smiling with pleasure at the sight of her husband’s friend, for whom she had felt a great sympathy.

  Suddenly he caught sight of her and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  “I say!” he said. “It’s Miss Baydon. But what are you – ?”

  “It’s a long story,” the Earl said.

  “But – Lady Mountwood – ? I mean –”

  “Lady Mountwood has no objections,” the Earl assured him, grinning. “Come aboard, old fellow, and tell us how you come to be here.”

  They had tea on deck under the awning. Lord Anthony could not take his eyes from Venetia and clearly there would have to be explanations, but before that they both wanted to know what had happened after they left.

  “It was the strangest wedding reception I ever attended,” their friend confessed. “No bride and no groom with everyone looking to me for an explanation.”

  “But why you?” Venetia asked.

  “I was the best man. I was supposed to know everything,” Anthony said simply.

  This was too much for his sorely afflicted companions and they both burst into hearty laughter.

  “I’m sorry,” the Earl said at last, wiping his eyes. “It’s the thought of you knowing everything –”

  “I didn’t know anything,” Anthony replied, aggrieved. “But they thought I should. Sir Edward said something about letters from the Queen making you leave quickly.

  “But then nobody could think where Miss Baydon was. You had just vanished into thin air, ma’am. Then someone said you must have gone with the bride and groom. Well, I knew you hadn’t, because I saw them off and you weren’t with them.”

  “What happened when you told everyone that?” Venetia asked.

  “Nothing. I didn’t tell them. I just got out as fast as I could before the place became too hot to hold me.”

  “Very wise,” the Earl said, his eyes twinkling.

  “But I don’t understand, Miss Baydon. How did you manage to catch up?”

  “She didn’t. She came with me,” the Earl told him.

  “But there were only two of you in the carriage.”

  “Meet my bride,” the Earl said, indicating Venetia.

  “But – when – ?”

  “The substitution was made before we started for the church,” added the Earl, adding wryly, “My ‘bride’ unaccountably preferred another man.”

  Lord Anthony drew a sharp breath. His eyes were wide with horror.

  “And you forced Miss Baydon to marry you instead? I say Ivan, that’s not – I mean – how could you?”

  He ground his teeth.

  “I did not force Miss Baydon to do anything. It was she who effectively forced me by substituting herself behind the veil. I had no idea until we were on the train. Don’t waste your pity on her, Anthony. Save it for me.”

  But Lord Anthony’s chivalrous instincts had been aroused.

  “He slanders you ma’am, I’m certain of it. He dragged you on board by force.”

  “Actually, that’s not far from the truth,” Venetia mused with a wicked glance at the Earl, who glared back.

  “Aha! I knew it. This is abduction. And you even wounded this poor lady.”

  “What?” they both asked together.

  In a fury Anthony pointed to the bruise on Venetia’s face.

  “You cad, sir!” he exclaimed. “How could you do such a thing to a defenceless female?”

  “Defenceless!” the Earl snorted.

  “Madam, I stand ready to rescue you. Come with me at once and we will leave this ship of infamy. Accept my protection –”

  “Oh, shut up, for pity’s sake!” the Earl said in disgust. “It’s like sitting through a bad performance at the theatre. Someone should throw rotten tomatoes at you.”

  “Sir, you may scoff but – madam!”

  This last outraged protest was drawn from him by the fact that Venetia was crowing with laughter.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when she could speak, “but I truly don’t need rescuing. The quieter we keep the story the better. None of us wants a scandal.”

  Anthony blenched. The prospect of scandal dampened his chivalrous fire and at last he allowed her to calm him down.

  “I don’t understand,” he said for the tenth time.

  “Well, I don’t understand why you came to this spot when you made your escape,” she said. “Were you trying to catch up with us?”

  “Oh no. I never dreamed that you could still be here.”

  “We wouldn’t be if a propeller hadn’t broken,” the Earl told him.

  “Ah, so that’s it. I came to Gibraltar because my uncle has a villa here and I thought I’d be safe. But now, I’m not so sure. My aunt is determined to find me a wife and as soon as she sees me she’ll get to work. The prospect terrifies me.”

  “You mean they don’t know you’re here yet?” the Earl asked.

  “That’s right. I left my bags at the station while I tried to pluck up courage to go to their villa.”

  The Earl and Venetia exchanged smiling glances and both nodded.

  “Come with us,” she volunteered.

  “With – you mean to India?”

  “Yes, why not?” the Earl said, thumping him on the back.

  “I won’t try to marry you off,” Venetia assured him.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Then I’ll come.”

  A sailor was despatched to the station to collect Anthony’s valet and his luggage. Everything arrived within the hour, by which time a suite had been arranged for t
he newcomers.

  Soon after that another carriage drew up at the ship bearing clothes from the dress shop.

  The Captain announced that the repairs were complete and they would soon be under way. That evening the three friends made merry over dinner on deck, while the Angelina headed deep into the Mediterranean at full steam on its way to India.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When they reached Egypt the Angelina entered the Suez Canal that connected the Mediterranean with the Red Sea and shortened the trip to India by several weeks. As they glided down the hundred-mile canal the three of them stood at the front of the boat, while the wind streamed past them.

  “This is the life,” Anthony sighed. “What are you expecting to do when you reach India, Mountwood?”

  “I’ve been wondering that myself,” the Earl replied. “I have to report back to Her Majesty of course, but I think, from what I’ve heard, our troops need encouragement and reassurance that people at home have not forgotten them.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Then Venetia said,

  “Of course, it’s a very long way from England. If they have left behind their wives and children, it’s miserable for them to be so far away from home.”

  “That is what all soldiers feel at one time or another,” the Earl said. “I spent some time in the army myself and remember being rather lonely.”

  “Indeed?” Venetia teased. “I’m quite certain all the local girls were at your feet telling you how handsome and exciting you were.”

  “Oh, they were indeed,” Anthony said eagerly. “They all set their caps at him, ma’am, especially after they’d seen Mountwood Castle.”

  “Ah, it was the castle that attracted them not his manly charms,” Venetia chuckled.

  She and Anthony had become firm friends and by now he was in possession of the whole story. He had laughed heartily at the tale of how his friend had been deceived, and advised Venetia to make no rash decisions.

  “Why shouldn’t you leave him, if you want to ma’am?” he asked. “Serve him right.”

  “Excuse me, but I consider myself the aggrieved party in this matter,” the Earl pointed out.

  “A man always considers himself the aggrieved party,” Venetia retorted. “I have by no means decided to remain with you. But even if we part I hope that, out of curiosity, I can visit your home, because I have heard so much about it.” She sighed theatrically. “It might even make me regret leaving you – unless, of course, you turn me away at the front door.”