Read Online The Keys of Love by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online Page B

Foss, her neck stretched out like a stork, ascended the stairs, her beady little eyes flying hither and thither with an avaricious gleam.
    Henrietta had overheard the exchange between the butler and Lady Butterclere, and felt her heart sink as she realised she must wait another day to set eyes on the Duke.
    â€œYou will see that our musical guests are settled in their quarters,” called Lady Butterclere in an after-thought. “Are they to be housed over the stables?”
    The butler blinked as he looked up at her.
    â€œThey are in the North wing, my Lady”
    â€œIn the house, you mean?”
    Lady Butterclere froze.
    â€œOrders of His Grace, my Lady.”
    She turned round and sailed into the hall with Miss Foss slithering in her wake.
    Eddie handed first Nanny out of the coach and then Henrietta. Next he sauntered up the steps, cape slung over his shoulder.
    â€œGee, it’s a Palace,” Henrietta heard Kitty declare as she climbed out of her rickety barouche.
    Henrietta was suddenly very pleased that Eddie and Kitty and the orchestra were here.
    They provided a welcome antidote to the snobbery of Lady Butterclere and her protégée .
    Servants had appeared and were already unloading the luggage from the various carriages.
    â€œHello, what’s this?” a servant in britches called.
    He was holding a damp and battered hat.
    â€œIt was behind this trunk,” he added. “Was one of you lot riding on the back of the coach?”
    All the members of the orchestra shook their heads. Kitty took the hat and examined it.
    â€œI’ve not seen it before,” she commented.
    â€œMaybe you had a stowaway,” grunted the servant, returning to his task of hauling the trunks down.
    Kitty’s eye met Henrietta’s they were thinking the same thing suppose it was the prisoner who had escaped some miles back on their journey?
    â€œWell, if you did have a stowaway, he’s dropped off like a leech, probably got to the next town by now.”
    Reassured, Henrietta continued on her way.
    The first sight that met her eyes as she stepped into the hall was a series of portraits lining the walls.
    The nine Dukes of Merebury.
    â€˜ There he is ,’ she thought with a flutter as her eyes settled on the last portrait to the right.
    The wonder of it was that he so closely resembled her fantasy the jet-black hair, the dark brooding gaze and the finely chiselled features.
    He seemed to be looking directly at Henrietta. She almost blushed under that serious searching stare.
    She and Nanny were shown into adjoining rooms. They were to share their bathroom, but even so Henrietta considered their quarters luxurious in the extreme.
    Her four-poster was so high that steps were needed and thick gold drapes hung from the canopy.
    There was a bright fire blazing in the grate.
    She thought she would be tired after the long coach ride, but when she lay down for a nap, her eyes would not close.
    She lay staring up at the underside of the canopy.
    She imagined the Duke approaching her and, since she had seen ardour, feigned or otherwise, on the faces of her various suitors, she was now able to envisage ardour on the face of this most favoured suitor.
    Her fingers traced her own lips as she imagined the kiss that the Duke might bestow upon them
    â€œ What are you thinking ,” she cried aloud in horror, springing up from the bed.
    Running across to the dressing table, she now faced herself in the mirror.
    â€˜ You do not know the Duke and he does not know you, ’ she told herself sternly. ‘ He is just a fantasy .’
    A fantasy that had grown steadily in proportion to the diminishing distance between America and England.
    How her imagination had managed to form such a near likeness to the real man, she could not fathom.
    Perhaps she had seen a photograph of him in the past, in one of the English newspapers sent out regularly to her father so that he could keep up with the