The Winning Post Is Love

by Barbara Cartland

  And then he remembered he had promised Lord Waincliffe to stay the night with him.

  Perhaps he had been a fool to agree to do so, as he would have been much more content in his Castle with all his treasures around him.

  Then he told himself that, even if Waincliffe was a bore, it would be far better than being alone at home and asking himself the same questions over and over again.

  ‘Why do I feel like this?’ he asked himself. ‘Why does this happen to me? Why can I not be like other men and be content with a beautiful woman?”

  The questions were back and haunting him.

  He rode out most morning in Rotten Row simply for exercise, as he was afraid that too much good food and drink would ruin his splendid figure.

  As he expected, the smart set were there cracking jokes with him if they were riding or waving pretty gloved hands from open carriages.

  There were a number of women looking at him with questioning eyes and he reckoned that they were just as beautiful as when he had last seen them – perhaps even more beautiful than when he had last made love to them.

  There were also some who turned their heads away when he raised his hat to them. It was either because they hated him for leaving them or if they were older, because they were shocked at his increasingly poor reputation.

  He never stayed long in Rotten Row – instead he galloped round the back of the Park and then home to his own Mews.

  There were a dozen letters waiting for him when he finished breakfast and he gave his secretary orders to send Hermione an elaborate arrangement of orchids.

  His secretary had been with him a long time.

  “I think, my Lord,” he began earnestly, “they are grossly overcharging us at that shop in Bond Street. I am told there’s a new man in Shepherd’s Market who sells the same flowers at half the price.”

  The Marquis shrugged his shoulders.

  “I will leave it to you, Walters, but there is no need to economise on such trivial things.”

  He paused before he continued,

  “I hear that there are some exceptionally fine horses coming up at Tattersall’s next week and I am determined if possible to purchase the best of them.”

  His secretary smiled.

  “If you buy many more, my Lord, you will have to build some more stables for them at The Castle.”

  “I did not think of that, but I will have a look to see if they are overcrowded when I am there tomorrow.”

  “Are you staying the night, my Lord, at Waincliffe Hall? Is there anything in particular Your Lordship wishes to take with you?”

  “Nothing I can think of and I cannot imagine why they would want to see me, unless it is to complain about poaching in our woods.”

  “I have heard,” said Mr. Walters, “that there are some excellent pictures at Waincliffe Hall. His Lordship also has an exceptional collection of snuffboxes.”

  “That’s sounds unusual and so I will look forward to seeing them.”

  “I think they were all collected during the French Revolution by one of his ancestors,” Mr. Walters added, “and their pictures have been handed down for centuries. Lord Waincliffe’s great-grandfather was really determined to acquire a picture gallery to rival your Lordship’s.”

  “And did he succeed?”

  “I have been told he was not far off it.”

  The Marquis was interested.

  He had thought after promising to stay the night at Waincliffe Hall that he had made a mistake and however late after dinner, he should have insisted on going home.

  Now he thought it would be interesting to see the Waincliffe picture gallery.

  Could Lord Waincliffe’s really rival his own? He had to admit he had been rather lazy about it and had not added either to his picture gallery or to his other treasures for at least four years.

  ‘Too many women and nothing to show for it,’ he surmised.

  Then he became annoyed at being so cynical about himself, as he had seldom been before in his life.

  ‘It would be irritating,’ he reflected, ‘if Waincliffe could boast that he has a better collection of anything than I have at The Castle.’

  His letters, as there were so many of them, took longer than he expected and he had to assure Mr. Walters that he would finish them off after he had returned from Marlborough House to pick up his luggage.

  “I don’t want to seem a nuisance, my Lord,” Mr. Walters said, “but you started a letter last week to the Duke of Devonshire and you have not yet finished it.”

  “If I remember he was asking me a lot of questions to which I had no answer, but put it out for me and I will finish it before I leave.”

  “Thank you, my Lord. I dislike bothering you, but it’s a mistake to get behind with all this correspondence.”

  “You are right to bully me, Walters, and I promise I will do what is needed before I leave.”

  He arrived at Marlborough House just in time not to annoy his host.

  It was well known that the Prince of Wales was always on time and if he was kept waiting, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the table or whatever was near him and was furious with the culprit when he did appear.

  The Marquis scraped in by the skin of his teeth and when the Prince received him, he commented,

  “I was beginning to think you had forgotten me, Euan.”

  “I would never do that, Sire,” the Marquis replied. “But I have some interesting news to tell you when I have the opportunity.”

  He had no idea what this was, but he knew that this promise would bring a light into the Prince’s eyes.

  If there was one thing His Royal Highness enjoyed, it was being told a secret before anyone else knew it or being given some information he hitherto had not known.

  It did not matter what it was. He just wanted to be the first.

  When they went into luncheon, the Marquis found that he was sitting next to a very pretty lady.

  He had admired her at other parties, but they had not previously met and when he asked her why this was, she replied that she had been abroad.

  “In fact I have been to India with my father who is aide-de-camp to the Viceroy. I am only back in England with him because he has been very ill and is only at this moment off the danger list.”

  “I wondered why I had never met you before,” the Marquis murmured. “But now I am gratified to do so.”

  She smiled at him and he knew without her saying so that she found him even more attractive than she had been told he would be.

  “Now at last we have met,” he added, “but what are we going to do about it.”

  “What do you want to do?” she enquired.

  There was an expression in her eyes that he knew only too well.

  “I will tell you about it in detail later on, but just in case our host has prior claim on your attention, will you give me the address where you are staying in London so that I may be in touch with you?”

  He realised as he spoke that she was delighted at his question.

  A few minutes later, he felt her slip a card into his pocket whilst he was speaking to the guest on his left.

  When luncheon was over and a number of guests started to leave, including the lovely lady on his right, the Marquis was unable to accompany her.

  The Prince of Wales said he particularly wanted to speak to him.

  As he said goodbye to her, he felt that her fingers trembled in his and he recognised that he had made another conquest.

  “I have to go to the country,” he said in a low voice which no one else could hear, “but I will be in touch with you when I return.”

  “That will be very exciting for me,” she replied, “and I will look forward to it.”

  He thought, as he looked at her again, that she was extremely pretty and he liked the softness of her voice.

  “You will not forget?” she simpered, as she turned towards the door.

  “You can be sure I will not,” the Marquis answered.

  The Princ
e of Wales then took him into his private sitting room.

  “What do you think of the delightful creature I put next to you at luncheon?” he asked.

  “Exactly what Your Royal Highness expected me to think!”

  The Prince of Wales laughed.

  “She is indeed very lovely and I thought you would appreciate her more than anyone else.”

  “I could never doubt you on a matter of taste, Sire,” the Marquis replied.

  “And what about Hermione?” he questioned before the Marquis could speak again. “I was told that she is very much in love with you.”

  The Marquis did not answer and after a moment the Prince of Wales exclaimed,

  “It cannot be over! Not as quickly as that!”

  “I am afraid so, Sire.”

  “Well all I can say, Euan,” the Prince smiled, “is, if you gobble up a particularly good meal too quickly, you end up with indigestion!”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “That is one way of putting it, Sire. But I find it difficult to move slowly in anything.”

  “We are all aware of that, Euan!”

  “Now do tell me about the horses you intend to buy that belonged to poor Christopher. I have heard they are coming up at Tattersall’s next week.”

  They talked on about horses until the Marquis was aware he was already late in leaving London.

  He made his apologies to the Prince of Wales and left, promising to come to Marlborough House as soon as he returned from the country.

  Mr. Walters was waiting for him at the house in Park Lane and the Marquis signed a dozen letters while his luggage was being put into his superb phaeton.

  He set out nearly an hour later than he intended, but he recognised he had the right team to make up the time.

  They were beautifully matched and he had bought them from their previous owner, who had almost wept in sorrow when he had to part with them.

  “It was only because I have been fool enough to lose a lot of money at White’s,” he said, “that I am offering you this team. I know that no one will appreciate them more than you.”

  “I am exceedingly grateful to you,” the Marquis said. “They are without exception the best looking horses I have seen for a long time and I will enjoy driving them.”

  “I enjoyed them myself,” the owner told him, “but I am almost broke and you would be the one person who would appreciate them and who would not beat me down from the price they are worth.”

  The Marquis knew he was being asked, because he was rich, to pay more than anyone else would, but because he was sorry for him and keen to have the horses, he had paid without querying the cost.

  Now, as he set out from Park Lane, he knew that the price he had paid for the team had not been too much.

  His valet was sitting beside him and his groom was in the seat at the back.

  Once they were out in the country and London was behind them, the Marquis gave his horses their heads and they were even better than he anticipated.

  When they arrived at the village at the bottom of the drive to Waincliffe Hall, he knew he was only an hour late and, if he had been driving his other horses, he would undoubtedly have taken another hour.

  “I only hope,” he said as they turned in at the rather dilapidated gates, “that they have plenty of comfortable accommodation for this team, which deserves, even more than we do, a good night’s rest.”

  His valet laughed.

  “That be true, my Lord, but I’ve been clenchin’ me teeth once or twice in case we had an accident.”

  “You should trust me, David. In the ten years you have been my valet, we have not had a crash yet.”

  “Cross your fingers, my Lord, and don’t question your luck!”

  “As far as I am concerned, this is the best team I have ever owned and I am very proud of them.”

  David did not reply as they drew up at the front door.

  The Marquis had no idea that his servants were heaving a deep sigh of relief that they had actually arrived.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gordon walked forward holding out his hand.

  “I am delighted to greet you, my Lord,” he said. “I was afraid you had either forgotten us or had been held up on the way.”

  “The latter is my excuse,” responded the Marquis. “Actually it was His Royal Highness who held me up, so I feel sure you will forgive me.”

  “We are so delighted that you have arrived safely. This is my brother Henry – and my sister Dolina.”

  Rosetta had been keeping in the background, but now she came forward and held out her hand.

  “So we meet at last,” the Marquis declared. “I have heard so much about you. You are exactly as I expected.”

  Rosetta smiled,

  “We are so glad you have arrived. Did your horses break any record coming here?”

  “As a matter of fact they did!”

  It passed through the Marquis’s mind that this was extraordinary.

  No woman had ever before asked about his horses when he had started referring to her beauty.

  “We have made it in only five minutes over four hours and I am sure that’s better than you or I have done in the past.”

  “It certainly is,” exclaimed Henry. “You must have superlative horses to achieve it.”

  “They are a new team to me and have turned out even better than I anticipated.”

  “Well, now you are here,” said Gordon, “I am sure you would like to wash before we have dinner and please don’t bother to change as it is quite an informal meal.”

  “I am glad to hear that and I would like to wash.”

  “But I feel sure that first,” Henry suggested, “you would like a glass of champagne. It has been on ice for you and we did not dare touch it until you arrived.”

  “That was very abstemious of you and I promise not to drink the whole bottle myself!” the Marquis replied.

  Gordon poured him out a glass of champagne.

  He was hoping as he did so that Mrs. Barnes was not dishing up dinner as soon as their guest had arrived.

  The Marquis drank a sip of champagne and then he proposed,

  “As I am delaying your meal and you are doubtless hungry, I will take the champagne up with me, if I may, while you show me the way upstairs.”

  “I will carry it for you,” Gordon offered, taking it from him.

  He led the way from the study and up the stairs.

  He was aware, as he did so, that the Marquis was looking around him as if he was somewhat surprised at the pictures and the furniture.

  Gordon could only hope that he did not look at the cracked ceilings or at the walls that, where they were not panelled, all needed replastering.

  The Marquis, however, was apologising once again for being late.

  “I don’t know if you have ever been invited to Marlborough House,” he said, “but if you have, you will recall that His Royal Highness always has something of import to say to you just when you are ready to leave.”

  Gordon laughed.

  “I have heard the story.”

  “In fact,” the Marquis continued, “some of my friends deliberately make a move to leave early, knowing that otherwise they will be late for their next appointment.”

  “Why do you think he does that?” Gordon asked because he was interested.

  “His Royal Highness loves to have people round him and, when one party ends, he feels lost until he starts the next one.”

  They had by now reached the room chosen for the Marquis and it was very attractive.

  The setting sun was coming in a rosy haze through the open windows.

  The Marquis’s valet already had taken his evening clothes out of his trunk and had them laid out on the bed.

  “There is no need to hurry, my Lord. As we keep country hours, they are, I promise you, very expandable when we have friends from London.”

  “That is very kind of you and I promise I will not be any longer than necessary.”

 
Leaving the Marquis’s room, Gordon ran as quickly as he could down the stairs.

  Barnes was waiting in the hall and Gordon blurted out breathlessly,

  “His Lordship is going to change after all. Will you tell your wife it will be a quarter of an hour or perhaps longer before we can start dinner.”

  “Don’t worry, my Lord,” Barnes said soothingly. “I’ve been here long enough to appreciate that guests from London always find the journey longer than they expects. I tells the Missus first thing this morning that your Lordship won’t be eating until London time and that won’t be till nigh on nine o’clock.”

  Gordon gave a sigh of relief.

  “Barnes you are a genius. I thought dinner would be ruined and Mrs. Barnes in tears.”

  “Now don’t you fuss, my Lord.”

  Barnes spoke to him in the same tranquil voice he had used when Gordon and Henry were small boys.

  “Everything will turn out for the best and everyone in the kitchen, the garden and on the estate be praying that His Lordship’ll be forthcoming.”

  “We can only hope and pray,” Gordon agreed, as he turned to walk towards the study, thinking they would be lost without Barnes.

  “At least he has come,” Henry sighed with relief when Gordon entered the room.

  “I told you not to worry. Anyone who comes from London finds it takes longer than they think. All we can say is – thank God he’s arrived.”

  Henry turned towards Rosetta.

  “What do you think of him? he asked. “I know you have never met him before.”

  “I have heard so much about him and in point of fact he looks exactly as I expected.”

  “He is certainly handsome,” Gordon added, “and it’s not surprising that women run after him.”

  “And he runs after them,” Henry chimed in.

  Rosetta did not comment.

  She walked to the window and stood looking out at the sun, now sinking in the sky and throwing long shadows in front of the trees and the fountain.

  She was not aware that the fountain had not worked for a long time, but Gordon insisted it must play when the Marquis arrived.

  Rosetta thought it was all even more beautiful than she was prepared for.

  Gordon then joined her at the window.