A Virgin Bride (14 page)

She did not say anything more.

Rock was becoming aware that he had wasted his time pursuing beautiful women.

He should have been sitting in his proper place in the House of Lords and then contributing to the greatness of England.

Suddenly he laughed at himself.

Was it possible that he, the Duke of Rockinston, was listening to a young girl of eighteen?

He felt somewhat ashamed that he had not used the brain he had been born with in serving his country.

“I have always wanted to pay a visit to the House of Lords,” said Venetia, “but, when I have been at home in the past, there has always been so much riding to do that I have never actually had the opportunity of going there.”

“Then I must certainly take you when we return to London, but I have the feeling you will find it very dull.”

“If you are speaking, it would be really fascinating,” she replied. “I know that because of your good looks and your personality everyone would listen to you.”

Rock found it stranger still that she should pay him compliments so different from those he had received from women in the past.

He was intelligent enough to know that actually she was right.

He should at his age begin to play his part in the Government of the country and now he thought about it, the Crimean War had been a disaster.

Officers who had no idea what they were doing had conducted the war.

As if Venetia was reading his thoughts, which Rock had begun to realise she was able to do, she remarked,

“Papa was really horrified at the way the Army has deteriorated since the Battle of Waterloo. And it was only because the Russians were so ineffective that we were not humiliatingly defeated in the Crimea.”

“That is true,” he agreed, “and I'm sure Cardwell is right in thinking that the first thing we must do is to see that our Officers are more efficient in the future.”

“That is what he is fighting for and I do hope that you will help him, Rock.”

Rock smiled a little wryly as he replied,

“I think you have already committed me to doing just that.”

“I don't want to interfere. Equally I can understand that because you are so important, Mr. Cardwell needs you urgently to support him.”

“In other words you have committed me, Venetia, and when we return to London, I will find out exactly what he wants me to do.”

Venetia clasped her hands together.

“That will be wonderful and I know Mr. Cardwell will be most grateful. And in addition you will be doing exactly what, in your position, you
ought
to be doing.”

It was impossible to say anything more as they had arrived back at the house.

When Rock went to bed, he thought that never had he expected to be bullied by his wife into taking part in the political world – especially by a wife he thought of as little more than a child.

*

The next day they drove in the
Bois de Boulouge
in the morning.

Venetia was thrilled with the horses, and to Rock's surprise not particularly interested or amazed by the many
courtesans
.

They were fantastically dressed to show off their obvious charms and drove in the most eye-catching carriages. Many of them waved gaily to Rock and in acknowledgement, he raised his hat as they passed.

He quite expected Venetia to ask him how he knew such extraordinary-looking women.

But she just went on talking about the horses.

“Will we be going to the races while we are here?” she asked him.

“Naturally, but you will find that on the whole we have far better race meetings in England than they have in Paris.”

“I have heard Papa say so, but it will be interesting to go racing here and I am sure I would greatly enjoy it.”

“Then that is what we will do, Venetia.”

He took her to luncheon at a fashionable restaurant near the Madeleine, where he thought they would have a quiet and comfortable meal together.

But, as soon as they entered, one of the most famous
courtesans
in Paris sprang up to greet him.

“Rock!” she cried. “I had no idea you were here. Why have you not come to see me? How could you be so cruel when you know how much I have been longing to see you again?”

“We only arrived yesterday,” Rock replied, “and let me introduce you to my wife and explain that the reason for my neglecting you is that I am here on honeymoon.”

The
courtesan
stared at him in sheer astonishment and then at Venetia.

“
You are married
! But how is that possible when you have always said, even only two months ago, that you would never marry?”

“I changed my mind when I met Lady Venetia – ”

“Now that you are married there will certainly be a great number of broken hearts,” the
courtesan
rambled on. “Not only in Paris but in many other parts of the world!”

Rock chortled.

“You are flattering me.”

“Which I have always enjoyed doing.”

The
courtesan
moved back to her own table.

Rock walked to the table he had booked and, as they sat down, he felt uncomfortable at what had just occurred.

Then Venetia piped up,

“She is very attractive. Did you see her every time you came to Paris?”

“She was one of the charming women with whom I spent my time,” admitted Rock sheepishly.

“What does she do when you are not there? Is she married?”

For a moment Rock could not think of an answer.

It had never struck him she would not understand why he had spent his time with a
courtesan
or that she was upset that he would visit Paris without informing her.

He was well used to being with married women or the
courtesans
who recognised one another on sight – they were then immediately more determined than ever to hold his attention and his affection.

He could not think of a suitable answer to Venetia's question.

“As the lady is so fantastically dressed,” she said, as he did not speak, “perhaps she is an actress – or one of those women Papa said I should not ask questions about.”

Rock felt it was intelligent of her to have worked it out in her own way.

“You are quite right, Venetia, and as my wife you must pretend she does not exist.”

Venetia giggled.

“I think that would be very rude. If you want to speak to her and tell her you are sorry she is so upset, you must do so.”

“You will not mind?”

“No, why should I, Rock? If you left me alone and sat at her table, I should feel embarrassed and hurt. But, as it is, I am just rather sorry that she should feel so strongly you have neglected her.”

“She is alone at the moment,” he replied, “but I don't feel it will be for very long. What we must concern ourselves with now is what we are to eat and I may say that next to Dugléré, who is undoubtedly the best chef in Paris, the food here comes in a very good second.”

“I thought the food last night was a gastronomic dream, but everyone was talking so volubly that I did not have a chance to discuss it with you.”

“I am glad you thought so. Three years ago when the Czar of Russia and the Czarevitch, Bismarck and the King of Prussia all came to the International Exhibition, they dined at the
Café Anglais
where we were last night. Dugléré served them a banquet, which I am quite sure will be a classic for ever.”

“I felt I was right in thinking the delicious food was really exceptional, but it is hard when there are so many people to talk to when one is eating as well as thinking.”

Rock laughed.

“You are not the only one who has thought that.”

It flashed through his mind that he might as a joke take her to see one of the private rooms upstairs at the
Café
Anglais
.

One of them was called
Marivaux
and it was also known as ‘
Le cabinet des femmes du monde
'.

He had often been in that room himself and when a Society lady was dining alone with him and, of course in secret, she was able to reach it by a special staircase.

The ladies who used it hurried up the stairs for fear of being recognised.

He had always found it a convenient way of being alone with them when he could not go to their houses and they were too nervous to come to where he was staying.

‘All that is over now I am married,' Rock thought to himself not really ruefully.

Yet it seemed extraordinary.

In marrying who he felt would be a young rather stupid English girl, he was finding himself confronted with questions and problems he had never expected.

He wondered if he should tell Venetia exactly whom the
courtesan
was who had spoken to him.

Then he remembered that while Venetia was most knowledgeable on many matters, she was, as she had said herself, completely ignorant about love.

It suddenly occurred to him that nothing would be more exciting than to teach anyone so beautiful to respond to him – as she was obviously not doing so at the moment.

He had grown to expect exactly the opposite with any woman he was with.

‘Whatever happens,' he reflected, ‘I must be very careful in teaching her and not hurry or shock her in any way. She is very young, very vulnerable, very innocent and very lovely.'

Venetia had been gazing round the room, but now she turned to look at Rock.

“You are thinking about me, Rock. Have I done something wrong?”

“No, of course not. But how did you know I was thinking about you?”

“Somehow I sensed it. Sometimes I find I know what you are thinking, especially if you are thinking about me.”

“What do you believe I am thinking now?”

“That I am far from what you expected and so far I am not a complete disappointment!”

Rock stared at her.

“Can you really understand that without my putting it into words?”

“I think you are quite easy to read. I am sure if we loved each other, it would be easier still.”

“Why do you say that, Venetia?”

She was silent for a moment before she replied,

“I suspect you know the ancient Greeks believed that when the first man was created he was single, just one person in a very big world.”

Rock knew he had read this somewhere, but had not thought about it for a long time.

He did not speak and Venetia continued,

“Because he was so lonely and unhappy he was cut into two pieces. The soft introspective part of him became a woman. He, the other half, was the fighter, the protector, and naturally the man in authority.”

“I remember now and what we are all looking for is the other half of ourselves.”

Venetia smiled at him.

“I always hoped that one day I would find mine, but I needed time to do it.”

“Not a rush up the aisle with a man you had never seen before!” remarked Rock.

“It was a big shock, but because you are kind and understanding I am getting over it. Already I find it very exciting being with you in France and seeing Paris through different eyes.”

Rock thought rather wryly that this was a small step in the right direction.

At the same time she was still regarding him as a stranger – someone she was not in the least in love with.

“Look round the room,” he suggested, “and tell me if there is any man here you would rather be with than me.”

Venetia laughed.

“That is a silly suggestion. There is no need for me to look round the room. I would rather be with you than with a man I have never met and know nothing about.”

“Are you describing me as I was until yesterday?”

“Papa told me a great deal about you, so you were not a complete stranger. But I was frightened when I came up the aisle and even more frightened when we arrived at your large house in London.”

“So you expected me to spring on you?

As he spoke, he wondered if that indeed was what she had expected and feared, but had in a very clever way avoided.

“You have been very kind to me and, I think, very sensible, but there is a great deal to learn about each other and I am trying hard to learn about you – the real you, not the one the other ladies know.”

Rock looked at her questioningly.

“I did notice one at the wedding,” Venetia went on, “looking up at you in a way that told me she loved you. And when she looked at me, I was certain she hated me!”

Looking back, Rock remembered three women who had come to the wedding who he thought would have been more tactful if they had stayed away.

They had gushed at him when he shook them by the hand and one of them had simpered,

“Dearest, dearest Rock! How can I
possibly
go on living without you?”

He had only been thankful that Leone had had the sense not to come to the wedding, even if, as he was quite sure, the Duke had not sent her an invitation.

It was, he thought, too much to expect of Venetia, not to realise they were saying more or less openly that they had at one time been very much a part of his life.

To his surprise Venetia was now looking round the room again.

It was as if she was obeying him in choosing a man she would rather be with than with him.

And then she commented,

“I think, although you may think it rather insolent of me, that I find French men somewhat unattractive. In fact those I met when I was staying in the holidays with my school friends did not seem as sincere or for that matter as masculine as an Englishman.”

“I do think that describes them rather well, Venetia. Equally Englishmen too can be insincere and you must not believe every word they say to you.”

“I expect you are referring to all the compliments I received at the wedding and at dinner last night.”

Rock nodded.

“You forget I have only just left school, and, when I stayed away with the girls, their brothers were French and ignored me as if I was of no consequence.”