Read Online Love is Triumphant by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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to be attracted to such a vulgar young woman.
She also had a good view of Arthur Woodward who was sitting beside Mrs. Gladstone, turning all his charm on her and neglecting the sad looking spinster on his other side.
Afterwards the ladies retired to have coffee in the drawing-room, while the men stayed over their port. When they finally joined the ladies, Arthur came straight over to Lady Doreen.
Now he had many secret things to say which only she could hear.
'I hate him,' Rosina said to herself. 'I hate him and I will never, never in the whole of my life fall in love with a man like that. All he cares about is what benefit she can bring him.'
As she thought of the loving letters he had written to
Miss Draycott, she wanted to get up and hit him over the head, then to tell the whole world how corrupt and appalling he was.
But she could not do so in this house. Her father needed Lord Blakemore's friendship.
'But only his friendship,' she thought angrily. 'Papa always pays his own election expenses, while Mr. Woodward will be having his paid by the Blakemore family.'
At that moment the young man looked up and caught her eye. Smiling, he came to join her.
"May I fetch you some more coffee?" he asked.
"Thank you, I should like that," she said as warmly as she could manage.
She had decided that it was time she became better acquainted with Mr. Woodward.
And, of course, he wished to become better acquainted with the daughter of a man who might soon be in a position of power.
"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before," he said, returning with the coffee.
"I'm not really 'out' yet," she explained. "In fact, I was only recently at school."
"I find it hard to picture you as still a schoolgirl," he said. "You seem so confident and sophisticated."
"You're too kind. In my last year at Laine Hall, we were taught how to behave in society."
There was a perceptible rattle from the cup in his hand, she was glad to note.
"Did – you say – Laine Hall?"
"That's right. It's a school on the edge of Papa's constituency. Have you heard of it?"
"I – believe so."
"Have you been to that part of the world recently?"
"I – yes – that is," he stammered. "It's near my own constituency – the one I hope will be mine – "
His face was pale.
"Then, of course, you pay frequent visits," Rosina said, smiling implacably, "to make yourself familiar with the place."
"That is – one of my duties."
"I should really have been at school now, but I had to leave early, owing to a very upsetting experience."
"I'm sorry to hear that." He had recovered some of his smooth manner.
"Well, the experience was not mine, but that of a good friend of mine, a teacher called Miss Draycott."
He neither moved nor spoke, but his face was the colour of death.
"Perhaps you have met her, Mr. Woodward?"
"No," he said, the word exploding from his mouth like a bullet from a gun. "Why should you think I – that is – I don't believe I've had that pleasure."
'I could almost believe you,' she thought, 'if I hadn't seen you sitting with her in a teashop, holding her hand and gazing into her eyes.'
"No," he said again, "I never met this lady, but I do recall hearing of her, that she left the school without warning. Friends who wrote to her were informed that she had departed suddenly."
'Of course' she thought. 'After I left, you grew nervous because she didn't return the things you'd asked for. I expect you wrote, reminding her, but your letter came back with a note to say that Miss Draycott had left without leaving an address. Since then you've been on hot coals wondering where she is and what she did with your compromising letters.'
"Yes," she said aloud. "She did depart very suddenly indeed."
"Do you happen to know where she has gone?" he asked with an attempt to sound casual.
Rosina drew a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.
"She is dead, Mr. Woodward."
It did her good to see the look that passed across his face.
It was one
She also had a good view of Arthur Woodward who was sitting beside Mrs. Gladstone, turning all his charm on her and neglecting the sad looking spinster on his other side.
Afterwards the ladies retired to have coffee in the drawing-room, while the men stayed over their port. When they finally joined the ladies, Arthur came straight over to Lady Doreen.
Now he had many secret things to say which only she could hear.
'I hate him,' Rosina said to herself. 'I hate him and I will never, never in the whole of my life fall in love with a man like that. All he cares about is what benefit she can bring him.'
As she thought of the loving letters he had written to
Miss Draycott, she wanted to get up and hit him over the head, then to tell the whole world how corrupt and appalling he was.
But she could not do so in this house. Her father needed Lord Blakemore's friendship.
'But only his friendship,' she thought angrily. 'Papa always pays his own election expenses, while Mr. Woodward will be having his paid by the Blakemore family.'
At that moment the young man looked up and caught her eye. Smiling, he came to join her.
"May I fetch you some more coffee?" he asked.
"Thank you, I should like that," she said as warmly as she could manage.
She had decided that it was time she became better acquainted with Mr. Woodward.
And, of course, he wished to become better acquainted with the daughter of a man who might soon be in a position of power.
"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before," he said, returning with the coffee.
"I'm not really 'out' yet," she explained. "In fact, I was only recently at school."
"I find it hard to picture you as still a schoolgirl," he said. "You seem so confident and sophisticated."
"You're too kind. In my last year at Laine Hall, we were taught how to behave in society."
There was a perceptible rattle from the cup in his hand, she was glad to note.
"Did – you say – Laine Hall?"
"That's right. It's a school on the edge of Papa's constituency. Have you heard of it?"
"I – believe so."
"Have you been to that part of the world recently?"
"I – yes – that is," he stammered. "It's near my own constituency – the one I hope will be mine – "
His face was pale.
"Then, of course, you pay frequent visits," Rosina said, smiling implacably, "to make yourself familiar with the place."
"That is – one of my duties."
"I should really have been at school now, but I had to leave early, owing to a very upsetting experience."
"I'm sorry to hear that." He had recovered some of his smooth manner.
"Well, the experience was not mine, but that of a good friend of mine, a teacher called Miss Draycott."
He neither moved nor spoke, but his face was the colour of death.
"Perhaps you have met her, Mr. Woodward?"
"No," he said, the word exploding from his mouth like a bullet from a gun. "Why should you think I – that is – I don't believe I've had that pleasure."
'I could almost believe you,' she thought, 'if I hadn't seen you sitting with her in a teashop, holding her hand and gazing into her eyes.'
"No," he said again, "I never met this lady, but I do recall hearing of her, that she left the school without warning. Friends who wrote to her were informed that she had departed suddenly."
'Of course' she thought. 'After I left, you grew nervous because she didn't return the things you'd asked for. I expect you wrote, reminding her, but your letter came back with a note to say that Miss Draycott had left without leaving an address. Since then you've been on hot coals wondering where she is and what she did with your compromising letters.'
"Yes," she said aloud. "She did depart very suddenly indeed."
"Do you happen to know where she has gone?" he asked with an attempt to sound casual.
Rosina drew a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.
"She is dead, Mr. Woodward."
It did her good to see the look that passed across his face.
It was one
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