The Winning Post Is Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Then she saw The Hall itself in the distance, rosy-pink in the evening sun with its windows glittering.

  She felt that it was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful houses she could imagine and she was doubtful if even The Castle could be as impressive.

  Gordon and Henry were waiting for her in the hall.

  “You have come! You have come!” Henry cried. “And you look absolutely marvellous and exactly as we want you to be.”

  Rosetta knew he was really saying that she looked like his sister.

  She merely smiled as Gordon shook her hand.

  “I am more grateful to you than I can possibly say,” he said. “Come along and let me show you the plans for the Racecourse. I want you to know everything about it before our visitor arrives.”

  “I thought you would,” replied Rosetta. “I looked up some Racecourses that were illustrated in Papa’s books. But I feel sure that your Racecourse will be different and more up-to-date than anything designed years ago.”

  “I hope so. Henry and I have been to most of the best Racecourses in the South of England and we want to improve on everything we have seen.”

  They took Rosetta into the study.

  As soon as the door was closed, Gordon said,

  “Now, we must get into the habit of calling you ‘Dolina’ and not hesitating over the name as one is inclined to do if one thinks about it before saying it.”

  Rosetta laughed.

  “I was just thinking that myself and I am honoured to have your sister’s name. I have been told so often how beautiful and delightful she is.”

  “And so are you,” added Gordon. “It is something you should not hide.”

  “I have no wish to, but there has been no one to impress with my beauty except my dogs!”

  The two brothers chuckled and then they took her across the room to see the plans for the Racecourse.

  “I think they are all marvellous,” enthused Rosetta after having a good look at them.

  Then rather shyly, she suggested two or three points that she thought could be improvements.

  The brothers agreed with her at once and then they quickly incorporated them on the plans. Henry was a much better draughtsman than his brother.

  “Now I expect you would like to see your room,” suggested Gordon. “I am afraid there will be no one to look after you. Mrs. Barnes, whose husband is our butler, has been our cook for over twenty years.”

  “How wonderful!” Rosetta exclaimed.

  “As she has very little help in the kitchen, she will be spending all her time preparing for dinner tonight.”

  “What time do you expect the Marquis to arrive?” Rosetta asked.

  Henry made a gesture with his hands.

  “When it suits him. We are both terrified he may change his mind at the last moment if he receives a better invitation, but we hope he will arrive soon after tea.”

  Rosetta knew by the way he was speaking that he was seriously worried that the Marquis might cancel his engagement with them.

  She thought that if he did so she would despise him more than she did already.

  She had, of course, not told Lord Waincliffe that she had always disliked what she had heard of the Marquis and she was horrified that he had paid so little attention to the County where he lived.

  That he was a good landlord she could not deny and he did not neglect his employees or his vast estate, but he completely ignored most of the residents in the County.

  He often brought his friends down from London for large parties, but he made no effort to include any of his neighbours.

  Because they were ignored, it was natural that they spoke scornfully of him and repeated the most scandalous tales about him whenever his name was mentioned.

  In fact since Rosetta had grown up, she had thought of him rather like a villain in a novel.

  “I cannot imagine why he interests you so much,” she said to one of her friends who had been repeating some recent scandal about the Marquis, which she had already heard from several others in the County.

  Her friend had laughed.

  “I suppose because we have little else to excite us and the Marquis certainly does behave, as you must admit, like the bogeyman in a children’s book!”

  “I should have thought you would have made him a hero,” Rosetta remarked laughingly.

  “I am not so stupid as that,” her friend had replied. “And there is no doubt at all that he behaves disgracefully. We can only hope he is punished for his wicked ways.”

  There was a spiteful note in her voice and Rosetta knew that it was because she had never been invited to the Marquis’s Castle.

  She could not help thinking it amusing that, while most of the County had nothing better to talk about, the Marquis was enjoying himself in London.

  He clearly had no idea that he was the inexhaustible subject of criticism at almost every party she attended.

  According to local gossip, the Marquis would come down on a Friday night with anything up to twenty guests, all as distinguished as himself.

  If they wished to dance, there was always a superb orchestra to play for them – and again the locals were not asked to join in.

  On some occasions the parties were even larger and there would be music, singers, actors and dancers from London to entertain them.

  Once again, there were no outsiders to report if the performance was good or bad.

  Rosetta was quite certain it was extremely good and she was sure that the reason why the local ladies were so catty about these parties was that the Marquis never invited them.

  They were obviously only for the ladies he brought from London with whom, again according to local rumour, he was having passionate affaires de coeur.

  “You would think,” Rosetta had said to her father not once but several times, “nothing else happens around here except at The Castle!”

  “You cannot blame the young Marquis for enjoying himself,” her father had answered. “But he is now getting older and will have to produce an heir sooner or later.”

  “Perhaps he does not want to be married?”

  “Whether he wants it or not, he cannot allow his family, which was first heard about soon after the reign of William the Conqueror, to die out.”

  “No, of course not, and what would we do if there were no Millbrooks at The Castle for us to talk about?”

  Her father had laughed.

  “You are quite right, Rosetta. It would be very dull without him. If he does nothing else, he keeps the local tongues wagging!”

  When Rosetta was shown into Dolina’s bedroom, she said a little hesitatingly,

  “I am just afraid that your guest, when he sees me tonight, will not think I am smart enough to be your sister.”

  “Do you remember,” said Gordon, “that I suggested you should wear one of Dolina’s gowns? She has a mass of clothes here and I imagine that just as you look alike, you are about the same size.”

  “Perhaps your sister would not mind my borrowing something from her,” Rosetta remarked a little nervously.

  Gordon grinned.

  “For one thing she need not know and for another, as she has let us down, the very least she can do is to be generous to the very kind lady who has taken over her part on the stage.”

  “I only hope I am experienced enough to enthral the audience!”

  “To do so, you must be properly dressed for the part,” Gordon replied firmly. “Choose from her wardrobe a dress that you think will be the most becoming.”

  Dolina had taken the prettiest furniture from other rooms to decorate hers – there were several mirrors with beautiful frames covered with china cupids and flowers.

  There were also very elaborate curtains on her bed and her dressing table was covered with every sort of face-creams and beautifiers.

  When Gordon opened the wardrobe doors, Rosetta could only gasp.

  She had never seen such a collection of beautiful and fashionable gowns and she was sure that all o
f them had cost a great deal of money and they were certainly unobtainable anywhere except in Bond Street.

  Considering how poor she knew Lord Waincliffe and his brother were, she could not understand how their sister could own such lovely and expensive garments.

  Guessing her thoughts, Gordon reminded her.

  “My sister is very fortunate in her rich Godmother, who presented her at Court. She also gave her all these magnificent dresses.”

  He paused for a moment before he added,

  “I cannot think there will be any use for them down here, unless, of course, you are so tactful and clever with the Marquis that she is invited to The Castle.”

  “I will do my best and I would love to borrow some of these glorious gowns.”

  “Make your choice,” Gordon invited her, “and if I know anything of my sister, they will all be replaced as soon as she goes back to London!”

  It was a temptation Rosetta could not resist.

  She then chose one of the most glamorous evening gowns she had ever seen and knew it would become her better than any dress she had ever worn.

  Gordon left her as he wanted to make quite certain that everything was perfect in the room where the Marquis was to sleep.

  He and Henry had asked him if he would stay the night as they had so much to discuss and they had been astonished when he actually said he would do so.

  They had quite expected him to leave after dinner to drive back to The Castle, as it was not very far away.

  “If you ask me,” Henry had muttered when Gordon exclaimed with delight at the Marquis’s acceptance, “it’s because he wants to see if we are really fit enough to be his partners in anything as demanding as a Racecourse.”

  Gordon had laughed.

  “I didn’t think of that, but I expect you are right. I only hope the dinner is edible and his bed does not collapse under him for lack of repair!”

  Henry had chuckled, but he knew that beneath his joking Gordon was very nervous that the Marquis would think they were not grand or rich enough to be his partners.

  Having selected a gown to wear at dinner, Rosetta took some time in choosing what she would wear now so that she looked her best when the Marquis arrived.

  If he was on time, that would be not long after six o’clock.

  Finally she chose an afternoon dress which was, she thought, grand enough to be worn at Marlborough House. It was designed to frame a woman’s beauty and make her look extremely striking.

  She took both gowns to her room and then changed into the stunning afternoon dress.

  It was the blue of her eyes and to her relief it fitted her exactly as it must have fitted its rightful owner.

  When she now looked at herself in the mirror, she thought that never before had she realised just how good a figure she had or how small her waist was.

  The blue of the gown accentuated the clear pink and white beauty of her skin and, as she gazed at herself again in the mirror, she wished her father’s eyes were good enough for him to see her now.

  She took yet another look and hoped that she was really like the girl she was now impersonating, as after all Dolina had been acclaimed as one of the great beauties of Mayfair.

  ‘If I let them down they, will never forgive me,’ Rosetta ruminated.

  If she did, it would be a humiliation that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

  Then, because it was something she always did, she prayed that she would be a big success and that the two brothers who had been so kind to her would achieve what they wanted – their Racecourse.

  It was well after six o’clock when Rosetta, after a last look at herself in the mirror, walked slowly down the stairs.

  She peeped in at the drawing room as she passed it and at two other rooms she thought very impressive but obviously not used.

  However, she told herself that she must not waste time and that she would take another look at the plans of the Racecourse, as it would be fatal to make any mistakes if the Marquis questioned her about it.

  As she expected, she found the two brothers in the study.

  They rose when she came in through the door.

  For a moment, they just stared at her.

  Then Gordon cried out,

  “You look smashing, marvellous and so beautiful!”

  “I swear, and I am not just being polite,” Henry came in, “that you are much lovelier than Dolina.”

  “I would like to think that’s true,” Rosetta smiled. “But I am glad you are pleased with me, although actually you are congratulating your sister’s dress-maker rather than me.”

  “We are just saying that you look exactly as we wanted you to look,” added Gordon. “To put you at ease, I swear, if I did not know who you were, I would think you were my sister, Dolina.”

  “That is what I want you to say,” smiled Rosetta. “Now, let me look again at the plans so that I know them as I should do if I had been with you talking about nothing else for months.”

  Henry laughed.

  “That is true enough. It has been hovering over us like a dark cloud. If we don’t win tonight, I think we will just give up hope and leave England for the Colonies!”

  He was only joking and Rosetta giggled,

  “You will very likely find the same problem there. What we all need, if we are honest, is money.”

  “That is indeed very true,” said Gordon. “It seems extraordinary, when you read about my grandfather and my great-grandfather, to learn they were all so rich. Yet when my father died there was practically nothing left at all – ”

  “Except this lovely house,” Rosetta interrupted.

  “A lovely house that is falling down. I learnt only this afternoon from Barnes that the ceiling in one of the second floor bedrooms collapsed last night.”

  “Oh, not another!” Henry exclaimed.

  “I am afraid so and Barnes said we will be lucky if in the next few months there are not two more.”

  “Don’t talk about such things at present,” Rosetta said. “I believe if you want something badly enough, like the Racecourse, you have to be sure in yourself that you will obtain it.”

  Gordon stared at her before responding,

  “You are quite right. If you start a race on a horse feeling doubtful if you will win, you don’t have a chance.”

  “I think the same applies to other things. So we must now tell ourselves that we are going to persuade the Marquis that the Racecourse is necessary and that it will be a feather in his cap as well as ours if it becomes a reality.”

  “Yes, that is what we will do,” Henry said quickly.

  “Indeed we will,” Gordon agreed. “You are quite right, Rosetta, and we will both rely on you to make the Marquis fully aware of the benefits he will receive from this venture.”

  “What you must realise, is that it will make him very popular in the County. While, as it is, he is quite the most unpopular man there has ever been.”

  “I would never have thought of that,” Gordon said. “It is certainly a point you might suggest to him tactfully.”

  “Very tactfully – or he may take umbrage,” Rosetta smiled. “But actually it’s true, because he keeps his Castle only for his London friends and has no interest in anything locally – and so everybody hates him.”

  “I suppose it’s a form of jealousy.”

  “Of course it is,” Rosetta agreed. “He has so much and the average local has very little in comparison. Even the Lord Lieutenant the other day said he was hard-up and I always thought he was a very rich man.”

  “He was only saying that to make you sympathise with him. He owns over a dozen of the finest horses and though his house is not so impressive, it’s very comfortable and he drinks the best champagne every night!”

  “That’s a sure sign that he’s not only well off, but perhaps, as he is complaining he does not have more, he is also a miser.”

  “Now you are making a story out of it,” Gordon asserted. “There is no doubt that if you wro
te one, it would be a best seller! The whole plot would centre around the Marquis.”

  “That is just what I thought when I was dressing. I was wondering whether I should make him the hero or the villain. I suppose to make a really good tale of it, he would repent of his sins and become the hero!”

  “That just never happens in real life,” Henry said scornfully. “And if you ask me, the one person who enjoys being the villain is the Marquis!”

  Even as he spoke, the door opened.

  “There be no sign of his Lordship as yet,” Barnes reported, “so shall I take away the tea?”

  “Yes, take it away, Barnes,” Gordon sighed.

  As he spoke, he walked towards the plans for the Racecourse.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Marquis stirred and then realised he had been asleep.

  As he opened his eyes, something soft and gentle against his shoulder murmured,

  “Oh, Euan darling, if only we could always be like this, how wonderful life would be!”

  He had heard women say those same words many times and quite suddenly and for no particular reason, it irritated him.

  He did not answer and an arm went round his neck.

  It was only with the greatest difficulty he did not fight it off.

  He did not really understand it himself, but this had happened to him before.

  Quite unexpectedly, he was tired of the liaison that had seemed so exciting and now he wanted only to be free.

  ‘Free’ was indeed perhaps the right word.

  Ever since he had left Eton, there had been women pursuing him and trying to catch him.

  The beautiful woman he had taken to bed tonight had been, when he had first pursued her, someone he felt was strangely unique.

  She had been different from all the others on whom he had bestowed his favours, but now he was aware that the excitement and thrill had begun to fade a week ago.

  Suddenly the curtain came down as if on a stage drama and then all he desired was to be alone with himself.

  With some difficulty, because he must behave like a gentleman, he managed to blurt out,

  “It’s now late, Hermione, and I must go home.”

  She gave a shriek of horror.

  “But, darling, it’s nowhere near dawn. We might have to wait for a long time before we can have another wonderful night like this together.”