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- Herausgeber: Barbara Cartland Ebooks Ltd
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: The Pink Collection
- Sprache: Englisch
The Marquis of Craigmere, who is one of the most handsome and attractive men in the Beau Monde, is pursued by an exotic and beautiful married woman called Peony Lawson The Marquis finds this affaire-de-coeur amusing and enjoyable until Peony says that that she intends to tell her husband what they have been doing and ask him for a divorce. The Marquis is horrified because he was determined never to get married until he is much older and needs to have an heir. He knows, however, that Peony is serious and he will have to be exceedingly clever not to be involved in a scandal that would force him to live abroad for some years. He is at Royal Ascot and is hoping to win the Gold Cup. He is not successful, but as the race ends he sees the Duke of Hawkhurst, who was a friend of his father's. The Duke has always been in debt and a way suddenly occurs to the Marquis of saving himself from the horror of Peony's intentions. He tells the Duke that he wishes to marry his daughter, Natalie, in two days' time. The Duke thinks it strange, but he realises that a very rich son-in-law will save him when he is on the verge of bankruptcy. However, his daughter Natalie is in love with the charming son of a neighbour, who is far from being a rich man, and she is in despair at the prospect of being married to the Marquis. Her cousin, Silva, who is beautiful and intelligent, urges her to elope and promises that she will somehow keep the knowledge of it from the Duke until it is too late for him to prevent it. How Silva arranges for Lady Natalie and the man she loves to set off for Gretna Green and how to save not only her cousin, but also herself from what has been for her a life of misery at the Duke's Castle, she takes her place at the altar. And the Marquis only discovers the switch when they are on their way to Dover for their honeymoon on his yacht. Find out what happens next in this intriguing and fast moving love story by BARBARA CARTLAND.
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The Marquis is Deceived
BARBARA CARTLAND
www.barbaracartland.com
Copyright © 2014 by Cartland Promotions
First published on the internet in May 2015
ISBNs
Paperback 9781782136866 EPUB 9781782137092
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.
eBook conversion by M-Y Books
THE MARQUIS IS DECEIVED
As she supposed that the Marquis had never seen Natalie there was no reason to be nervous about him.
At exactly two minutes before nine o’clock Silva left her room and walked to the very end of the corridor.
Here there was a small but seldom used staircase that led directly down to the Chapel, which had been built, Silva thought, when The Castle was first planned.
The reigning Earl, as he had been then, could go down from the Master suite to the Chapel in the mornings when he wanted to say his prayers.
She walked slowly down the stairs step by step.
She was praying fervently that for Natalie’s sake the Ceremony would pass off without any incident.
‘Please God,’ she murmured to herself, ‘don’t let my deceit be discovered.’
She reached the Chapel, which was just a very short distance from the bottom of the staircase.
A quick glance told her that the Duke had carried out her instructions.
And there were only three people in the Chapel, the Vicar, the Duke and the bridegroom.
As Silva entered, the Vicar, who had been praying, rose to his feet and turned round.
THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION
Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.
She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.
Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.
Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.
The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.
The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.
The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.
If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :
BarbaraCartland.com
Camfield Place
Hatfield
Hertfordshire
AL9 6JE
United Kingdom
Telephone: +44 1707 642629
Fax: +44 1707 663041
Titles in this series
These titles are currently available for download.
The Cross Of Love
Love In The Highlands
Love Finds The Way
The Castle Of Love
Love Is Triumphant
Stars In The Sky
The Ship Of Love
A Dangerous Disguise
Love Became Theirs
Love Drives In
Sailing To Love
The Star Of Love
Music Is The Soul Of Love
Love In The East
Theirs To Eternity
A Paradise On Earth
Love Wins In Berlin
In Search Of Love
Love Rescues Rosanna
A Heart In Heaven
The House Of Happiness
Royalty Defeated By Love
The White Witch
They Sought Love
Love Is The Reason For Living
They Found Their Way To Heaven
Learning To Love
Journey To Happiness
A Kiss In The Desert
The Heart Of Love
The Richness Of Love
For Ever And Ever
An Unexpected Love
Saved By An Angel
Touching The Stars
Seeking Love
Journey To Love
The Importance Of Love
Love By The Lake
A Dream Come True
The King Without A Heart
The Waters Of Love
Danger To The Duke
A Perfect Way To Heaven
Follow Your Heart
In Hiding
Rivals For Love
A Kiss From The Heart
Lovers In London
This Way To Heaven
A Princess Prays
Mine For Ever
The Earl’s Revenge
Love At The Tower
Ruled By Love
Love Came From Heaven
Love And Apollo
The Keys Of Love
A Castle Of Dreams
A Battle Of Brains
A Change Of Hearts
It Is Love
The Triumph Of Love
Wanted – A Royal Wife
A Kiss Of Love
To Heaven With Love
Pray For Love
The Marquis Is Trapped
Hide And Seek For Love
Hiding from Love
A Teacher Of Love
Money Or Love
The Revelation Is Love
The Tree Of Love
The Magnificent Marquis
The Castle
The Gates of Paradise
A Lucky Star
A Heaven on Earth
The Healing Hand
A Virgin Bride
The Trail to Love
A Royal Love Match
A Steeplechase for Love
Love at Last
Search for a Wife
Secret Love
A Miracle of Love
Love and the Clans
A Shooting Star
The Winning Post is Love
They Touched Heaven
The Mountain of Love
The Queen Wins
Love and the Gods
Joined by Love
The Duke is Deceived
A Prayer For Love
Love Conquers War
A Rose in Jeopardy
A Call of Love
A Flight to Heaven
She Wanted Love
A Heart Finds Love
A Sacrifice for Love
Love's Dream in Peril
Soft, sweet & Gentle
An Archangel Called Ivan
A Prisoner in Paris
Danger in the desert
Rescued by Love
A Road to Romance
A Golden Lie
A heart of stone
The Earl Elopes
A Wilder Kind of Love
The Bride Runs Away
Beyond the Horizon
Crowned by Music
Love solves the Problem
Blessing of the Gods
Love by Moonlight
Saved by the Duke
A Train to Love
Wanted - A Bride
Double the Love
Hiding from the Fortune-Hunters
The Marquis is Deceived
THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND
Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.
Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.
Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.
In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.
Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.
“It is often said that ‘all is fair in love and war’, but I have found that true love is so beautiful and so glorious that it brings out the very best and most spiritual in both men and women.”
Barbara Cartland
CHAPTER ONE ~ 1872
The Marquis of Craigmere watched a French horse win the Ascot Gold Cup.
He put down his binoculars after it had passed the winning post.
“Bad luck!” several of his friends called out.
The Marquis merely shrugged his shoulders.
He had known before he had come to Ascot that the horse he had entered for the Gold Cup was likely to be beaten by the French entry.
He then realised that his horse had dead-heated for second place with Flageolet, which also came from France, and that this would go some way to console his trainer.
His mind, however, was not wholly concerned with horses, even though he had looked forward to Royal Ascot as most owners did.
The Marquis’s problem was much more personal.
He was wondering as he walked from the Jockey Club box what he could do about it.
He was, in fact, in the worst difficulty he had ever encountered over the years of being the most sought after young batchelor in Society.
Enormously rich, he owned one of the finest houses in England with its fifteen thousand acre estate.
It was thought to be almost unfair that the Marquis, besides being the greatest matrimonial catch in the Beau Monde, should also be the most handsome man in it.
Ambitious mothers stiffened whenever he entered a ballroom and the debutantes of the London Season prayed that he would ask them to dance.
The Marquis, however, had no intention of getting himself ‘married off’.
This had happened to many of his contemporaries only for them to find after a year or so that they were incredibly bored with their wives.
The Marquis steered clear of debutantes and so his affaires-de-coeur were always with exotic and beautiful married women, the majority of whom had complaisant husbands, who stayed in their Clubs or went to the country when they were not wanted.
The Marquis found himself drifting happily from affair to affair and none had lasted for very long.
He invariably found himself quickly bored and he had come to the conclusion some time ago that women, however beautiful, had very little to say when he was not making love to them or they were talking nineteen to the dozen about themselves.
The Marquis’s father had been very intelligent and well-read and his son had followed in his footsteps.
He had been Captain of his House at Eton and had proceeded to make his mark at Oxford University and he had come away with a First Class Honours degree that few of his contemporaries had bothered to acquire.
When he came into the title, he introduced a great number of modern ideas to his great estate and he was still working on more.
He also found time to travel as often as he could and, while doing so, he had enjoyed himself in Paris with alluring coquettes. They were beautiful, witty, exotic and were the talk of Europe.
Life had been for him what other people thought of as a bed of roses.
So it was with a sense of shock that he now found himself in a position from which, for the moment, he had discovered no way of extricating himself.
He had been staying with friends when he had first met Lady Lawson.
She was exceedingly attractive in a most unusual way. She had dark hair and large expressive eyes and her superb figure was an irresistible attraction to every man.
Her husband, Lord Lawson, who was much older than her, was an extremely busy Statesman and he spent more time in the House of Lords than he did at home.
This enabled his lovely wife to dispense her favours on quite a number of men before the Marquis.
At the house party where they had first met the guests were all either married or widowed and there was no question of any young girls being included.
The Marquis had realised soon after he arrived that the guests were paired off and they were all good friends.
He was, in fact, younger than most of the other men and he knew that he had been included because of his Social standing and because his horses were so successful on the turf.
The Marquis, when he went down to dinner the first night, was sure that he was going to enjoy himself.
He was well aware that the older men were hard drinkers and keen gamblers and he thought that he would be wise to keep a clear head.
At any rate he had no intention of indulging too deeply in the excellent wines his host would be offering.
The dinner was superb and the huge dining room lit with candles made every woman present shine.
Glancing round the table the Marquis thought that it would be difficult anywhere else to find so many beauties assembled in one place.
Two of them were old loves of his and they greeted him with a look in their eyes that told him that there was still a place for him in their hearts.
The Marquis was always sorry when an affair came to an end as he did not like hurting anyone, especially a woman or a horse, but he was too fastidious to continue with an affair that bored him and which had lost the sparkle and the excitement it had evoked at the beginning.
Petty and insignificant things would bring what had been a wild, passionate, flaming enjoyment to an end.
One of the beauties present had the habit of twisting her rings round and round on her fingers. It was a small thing, but the Marquis had found that it irritated him and it had been the main reason why he had finally left her.
Another beauty had a way of mispronouncing long words particularly those of another language and, because he himself was so well educated, he found it intolerable.
They were little imperfections, yet they could bring to an end an affair that had been most enjoyable while it lasted,
The guests drank a great deal of champagne in the drawing room before they went into dinner.
As the excellent meal proceeded course by course, the appropriate wine was produced for each dish and the Marquis found it difficult not to drink more than he should.
He was very particular not to overeat for the simple reason was that he rode his own horses and wanted to keep his weight down.
As he was enjoying the first course and the superb white wine that went with it, he was aware that seated on his right was someone he had not met before.
He had heard, when they had been introduced, that her name was Lady Lawson.
He vaguely recalled a rather pompous Statesman he had met at Windsor Castle and he had been pointed out to him at the time as a keen Member of the House of Lords.
Lady Lawson was indeed very much younger than her husband and, as the Marquis could easily see, she was very beautiful.
Her large dark eyes flashed at him as soon as he spoke to her and it was an obvious invitation that he was very familiar with.
Her rouged lips and her soft seductive voice gave him the same message and it was one he had received so many times before.
He flirted with her as he was expected to do and he did the same with the beauty on his other side, but she was, however, clearly the chosen favourite of their host.
His wife was not present at the party as, having been ill for some time, she had now left for Bath, where she was hoping that the waters would help her to recover.
The host had no intention of allowing the Marquis to say too much to the beauty he had chosen for himself and so he therefore obligingly concentrated his attention on Lady Lawson.
He discovered that her name was Peony, which he thought suited her.
From the gestures she made and the way her eyes spoke to him without needing words, he knew what would be expected of him later in the evening.
This, however, was against his rules.
The first rule was that he never made love to a woman, however attractive, until he knew her well and had spent time with her. He thought that to behave otherwise was an insult, not only to her but to himself.
Making love, he had always thought, was not just a physical act. The attention of the mind, if not the heart, should be aroused as well.
His heart he could not control.
He had found up to now that it was very seldom involved in his affaires-de-coeur.
His mind was a different matter.
He liked to appreciate a woman for the way she looked, the way she talked and the way she walked and he liked to hear her opinion on the things that mattered to him such as horses and pictures.
He had expanded the collection that his ancestors had built up at Craigmere Court.
Occasionally he found unexpectedly an outstanding painting that no one else had recognised. It was then that he felt the same excitement as a man who had discovered a perfect pearl or a precious stone of great value.
Lady Lawson played her cards very cleverly.
She flattered the Marquis in a way that he realised was very subtle and she listened to anything he had to say with a rapt attention that was too perfect to be playacting.
Nevertheless, when the Marquis went up to bed, he had no intention of visiting Lady Lawson.
He was well aware that, with the usual tact that was exercised in house parties of this nature, she was sleeping just across the corridor from his bedroom.
When the ladies had left the drawing room to go to bed, the gentlemen continued drinking for quite some time.
They had enjoyed a very excellent vintage port in the dining room and had then been offered liqueurs.
The Marquis had refused both and he thought that the crimson flush on the faces of those round the table was somewhat contemptible.
What they consumed would certainly take the edge off what happened later.
Where he was concerned, he intended to enjoy a good night’s sleep as he was going to ride one of his host’s excellent horses before breakfast.
He had already told his valet to call him early and he was looking forward, as he always did, to riding a horse that was new to him.
He thought a little cynically ‘first things first’ and horses were what mattered to him at the moment. Women, even someone as pretty as Lady Lawson, could come later.
His valet helped him to undress and, as he climbed into the large comfortable bed, he was looking forward to sleeping peacefully.
He had always been most particular at Craigmere Court in seeing that all the beds were comfortable.
He had found at many houses he visited that it was a comfort that was neglected by the host or hostess and a bed as hard as a billiard table to sleep on was something he most disliked.
He was considering what new comforts he could introduce to his own house and he wondered if, on this visit, he would find anything new and interesting.
He was determined to make his own house perfect and he was well aware that other people might have new and good ideas beside himself. If they had, he was quite prepared to beg, borrow or steal them.
His eyes were now closed.
And he was just falling asleep when he was aware of something warm and soft moving against him.
For a moment he could not think what it was.
Then a seductive voice whispered his name and he realised that it was Peony Lawson.
He was not only surprised, he was astounded.
It was an unwritten law, even when an affaire-de-coeur had taken place for some time that a lady should not go to a gentleman’s room, but he would come to hers.
There were naturally exceptions when the husband was involved, but otherwise in all his long experience the Marquis had always made the first move.
He had been, as he would have put it himself, ‘the hunter not the hunted’.
Yet, here at this moment, cuddling up against him was Peony Lawson and there was a distinct scent of exotic perfume.
Then before he could say a word or be fully aware of what was happening, her lips were on his.
After that it was quite impossible not to accept the favours that she had so outrageously brought to him.
*
The affair, which had started in the country house, had now extended to London.
The Marquis found that he had never before met a woman so insatiable or so fiery.
It was difficult at first not to be intrigued by her and then her demands on him were inevitably increasing.
He found himself becoming almost overwhelmed by her attentions and the fire that she deliberately excited within him.
Previously he had always dominated an affair with a woman and had been very much ‘King of the Castle’, but now he found it impossible to be free of Peony even for a few days.
He might go to stay with one of his friends for a Race Meeting and, through some magic of her own, Peony managed to obtain an invitation to the same house and she was there waiting for him when he arrived.
In London he seldom went out to dinner without finding that she also was a guest.
He had begun to feel that he was being manipulated which he greatly disliked.
He decided that he must somehow put an end to what was, he felt, becoming far too intense.
Then last night, when they were both invited to stay at Windsor Castle, he felt as if a bomb had exploded.
When he was invited to Windsor, as he had been often before, he had accepted gladly.
He not only found it an extremely convenient base for the Races, but he was genuinely devoted to the Queen and she had always been exceedingly kind to him because she always liked handsome men.
He made her laugh which very few people managed to do and she treated him almost as if he was a grandson for whom she had a real affection.
He had brought her some flowers and a book that he knew she would enjoy.
He had spent more than half-an-hour alone with the Queen and was going to his own room to change for dinner when he met Peony on the stairs.
He stared at her in astonishment.
“You did not tell me that you were coming here,” he said.
“I was not certain until yesterday that it could be managed,” Peony replied. “But I have been very clever, darling, and I know you will be delighted. Arthur has had to go away to the country to see his sister who is very ill and I appealed to one of the Ladies of the Bedchamber who is an old friend.”
“And she arranged for you to be invited here?” the Marquis asked.
“She told the Queen that I would have been coming with my husband, but now pathetically would not be able to attend Ascot as I was not with a party.”
She slipped her arm through the Marquis’s as she spoke and enthused,
“Think how wonderful it will be, my darling. I will come to you tonight as you may find it difficult to come to me.”
There was nothing the Marquis could say, but he felt, as he had before, that he must somehow escape.
He could not, however, prevent her from coming to his room when everyone had retired to bed.
He deliberately went up rather late, as he had talked for a long time to one of the older gentlemen present, who was delighted by his attention.
The fact that Peony had to wait did not worry her and she must have been informed somehow of when his valet had left him.
A few minutes after he had climbed into bed, she came quietly to his room, locking the door behind her.
As she walked towards the Marquis in the light of one candle, she looked very lovely and very desirable.
Yet suddenly he knew that he no longer wanted her and that this was the end of yet another exotic romance.
She slipped into bed beside him and, almost as if she had read his thoughts, she said,
“I feel strongly, darling, that we cannot go on like this. We must go away together and I will leave a letter for Arthur telling him to divorce me.”
The Marquis stiffened.
“I don’t know what you are saying!” he exclaimed.
“We will be very happy,” Peony said, “even though the divorce will take some time and it would be best for us to live abroad while it goes through.”
She moved a little closer to him and went on,
“When we come back, it will soon be forgotten and, as the Marchioness of Craigmere, few doors will be closed against me.”
The way she spoke told the Marquis that she had thought it all out very clearly.
He was stunned into silence at the sheer horror of the idea.
