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Authors: Barbara Cartland

BOOK: Love Became Theirs
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"You see?" Henri declared triumphantly.

"Well it seems a strange sort of flirting to me," the Count grumbled.

"But sometimes," Henri took up her theme, "a man is too obstinate to listen to her. Actually, if we are honest, from the day of his marriage he is struggling to be the head of the house, and not just an obedient man of no distinction in it."

Rona laughed.

"I am sure that will never happen to you," she said.

"I wish I were as certain. I'm afraid, in case I fail, and find myself trampled on by pretty feminine feet."

"A woman has to be very strong to fight a man," Rona mused. "The best thing is to entice him, so that it's too late before he realises what is happening."

Henri grinned.

"You are incorrigible," he said, "and I am really sorry for your husband when you marry, as I'm quite certain you will always get your own way."

"I'll fight for it," Rona observed, "if I think I'm right – "

"But a lady always thinks she's in the right," said Peter's voice.

Somehow he had slipped in behind her, and listened to the conversation.

"I don't admit that for moment," she retorted. "However I'm always ready to bow to any man whose ideas are better than mine."

"Aha! And there's the catch," said Peter. "Who decides whose ideas are better? Why, the lady, of course."

"And that's how it should be," Rona declared, to general laughter.

Then something happened that took everyone's attention from their merry party. Behind them there were shouts of anger and dismay, galloping hooves, followed by the sound of gunshots. Everyone looked around to see a group of very young men on horseback, tearing down the path at speed, firing pistols into the air as they went.

Henri made a sound of disgust.

"They are racing, which is forbidden here. Also they seem to be drunk."

"In that case, they're probably Englishmen," Peter observed wryly, moving his horse so that he could shield Countess Emilia.

"I'm sure one of them is Russian," Count Rostoy said, gallantly willing to share the blame. "But whatever they are, it's disgraceful before ladies."

"You're right," said Henri. "Let us take the ladies aside."

But before they could move the horsemen were upon them, firing madly into the air, and making a commotion that unsettled the animals. Everyone looked to their mounts, and quietened them, but the horse that became most agitated was Rona's.

A particularly loud shot made Castor rear so that she had to fight to keep her seat. The next moment he had bolted.

She had known he was spirited, but as he thundered away she discovered that he was far too strong for her. She fought grimly to hang on, but he resisted all her efforts to control him, or even to guide his direction.

People fled from her path. She had no idea where she was going, or what was going to happen. She could only cling on and pray.

She was vaguely aware of two other horses being hard driven and coming up beside her, one each side. She thought the rider on the left was Peter, but she dared not look. It was taking all her skill and concentration to avoid being thrown.

Then she saw a stretch of water just ahead. She pulled on Castor's head, but he kept pounding on. A man's hand reached out for the bridle, trying to turn her away from the water, but at the very last moment Castor swerved sharply to the left, crossing Peter's horse and causing it to rear violently.

A woman screamed. Something struck Rona. The next moment she was flying over Castor's head into the water. It broke her fall slightly, but she still landed hard enough to be stunned.

For a moment she flailed, gasping for breath, terrified of sinking and drowning. Then a pair of strong arms hauled her to the surface and up out of the water, lifting her high against a broad chest.

Her head swam.

Peter, she thought. Peter had saved her.

Blindly she reached up one arm and put it about his neck.

Then a loud but kindly voice said,

"That's it. You are safe now. Hold on to me."

It was Count Alexei.

He was striding back through the water to where their party had gathered in a crowd on the bank. There were murmurs of concern and dismay.

"We must take her home at once," said Henri. "Can she ride, or should I send home for a carriage?"

"That would take too long," said the Count. "She will ride with me. See?"

Before she knew it the Count had climbed back into this saddle and taken her up before him.

"I – I'm all right," she said, dazed. "I can ride – "

"I think not," he said. "You would fall if you tried to ride alone."

If only, she thought, it had been Peter who held her in his arms on the journey home. As it was, she could have cried from mortification that such a thing should have happened.

Images swirled about her. There was Peter's face, white and tense, but he was keeping back, beside the Countess. And there was Alice, tearful and distraught.

"Miss Johnson," she cried. "Oh, please don't be dead."

"Don't be a silly girl," Rona rallied her in as strong a voice as she could manage. "Of course I'm not dead. It was just a little tumble."

The world seemed to swim as she spoke and she was forced to cling on to the Count. He urged his horse on and in a few moments they had left the park.

How terribly her head ached where it had been struck. She had only a vague impression of the journey home and then there was Madame Thierre full of horror at her guest's plight.

She was conveyed upstairs and a doctor hurriedly summoned. He declared that the blow on her head was not serious and a long sleep would see her well again. Madame Thierre brought up a cordial, and hovered anxiously by the bed.

"I'm so sorry to be a nuisance," Rona said, feeling despondent.

"But of course you are not," said her hostess. "It was an accident."

"I should have been looking after Alice."

"Alice is well, and asking to see you."

Alice had brought a surprise with her.

"My Lord," exclaimed Rona, struggling up in bed, aghast at the sight of the Earl. "Oh, they shouldn't have troubled you."

"Of course they sent for me," said the Earl, very pale. "I would have been very annoyed not to have been informed."

"I've let you down."

"Nonsense," he said kindly, sitting on the bed and taking her hand between his. "You're not to worry about anything. Peter and I will look after Alice. Peter sent you his apologies, by the way. Apparently it was his horse that kicked you in the head."

"So that was it," Rona murmured. "It was my fault really. I cut across him and the horse reared."

"So I gathered from that Russian Countess, when she could make sense of anything. She became hysterical and had to be calmed with promises of an expensive gift. Peter has taken her off to a jeweller's shop."

"I see," she said in a colourless voice.

"Yes, nobody really likes her," said the Earl, misunderstanding her tone. "Everyone was grateful when he removed her, even if it is going to cost him more than he can afford."

"Perhaps he can afford more than anybody knows," Rona said lightly.

"I shouldn't think so, unless he's picked up a fortune on his numerous travels. And she won't bring him any money. He must be deeply in love to follow her as he does."

"Really."

"I'm tiring you. I'll go now. But be careful in future. I wish I could join you all when you go riding, then I could keep a friendly eye on you."

"Why don't you try?" said Rona at once. "Alice would love that."

"It's hard for me to take time off. Monsieur Thierre is making it possible for me to meet many people in the financial world, and I have to give that most of my attention.

"Besides," he added after a thoughtful moment, "perhaps I would be in the way?"

"Of course not. How can you think that?"

He didn't look at her as he said,

"From what I hear, you might be about to announce your engagement to our Russian friend."

"Oh no," she said at once. "He's looking for an heiress, so he can't afford to marry a poor girl like me. He told me so straight away."

"He actually said that?" the Earl demanded, aghast. "The fellow's a bounder."

"Not at all. Just honest. He makes me laugh, my Lord. That's why I enjoy his company."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the Earl, startled. "Better keep him away from Alice, though."

"No, he knows that if he flirted with her you'd put an end to him. And if you didn't, I would. I told him that."

He gave her a wry look.

"I shall never understand ladies. You must be very strong minded to talk in such a way."

"Some people would say frivolous."

"They're wrong," he said firmly. "I like to be cheered up."

She felt warmed. He was such a nice man, not inspiring or thrilling, but with a resolute kindness and decency.

He left her and she drifted off into sleep. But even there her thoughts were troubled.

It was time to be sensible.

Peter was not Harlequin, whatever lingering echoes might haunt her. It was impossible, because her heart told her that Harlequin would not have abandoned her for another woman.

Nothing had really changed.

And yet she had the strangest feeling of having lost something.

The doctor's medicine made her sleep well and when she woke it was morning. She felt refreshed and stronger and insisted on getting up, despite Alice's protests.

"But the bruise on your forehead!" the girl exclaimed.

"It looks worse than it is. I'm hungry. A good, hearty breakfast and I'll be ready for anything."

This proved to be an exaggeration. There was consternation when she appeared downstairs, but her hosts agreed that food would be good for her.

Her place at table was a mass of flowers. Everybody wanted to spoil her. One of the daughters made her a present of some embroidered handkerchiefs. In her weakened state she was almost in tears at the affection and generosity.

But when breakfast was over, her strength seemed to fade again and she knew she needed to rest some more.

In the end Madame Thierre arranged for a reclining chair to be carried out under the trees, and Rona was settled against cushions and told to relax and think only of getting better.

Alice was full of sweet concern, running back several times with extra cushions, asking if she wanted anything else.

"All I need is to know that you're going to be all right," Rona said.

"Madame Thierre is taking me to see some shops with her daughters. Uncle Peter said he would take me out later, but this morning he's gone to see the Countess." She made a face. "Once he's with her he'll probably forget all about me."

"I'm sure he won't," Rona assured her.

"I'm sure he will. Papa says he's never seen a man so in love."

At last she left and Rona could have peace. She felt depressed and weary, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and let the world drift away.

She did not know how long she slept, but suddenly she was awake, and very much aware, although her eyes were still closed. When she opened them she received a shock.

Peter was standing there, his eyes fixed on her, his tense face very pale.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded sharply. "You should be in bed."

"I'll go back upstairs soon, but the sun is lovely."

"You shouldn't take risks with an injury to the head," he told her, still in the same rough tone.

"It's only a little bump."

"Nonsense, you don't know what you're talking about," he snapped.

She stared in surprise at his rude tone, but he strode away at once, not meeting her eyes. After walking a few steps he halted and looked back. She thought he was about to say something, but he only took a deep breath and turned away again.

Then he stopped once more and came back to where she was reclining.

"Are you angry with me?" Rona asked. "Was your horse injured?"

"To blazes with the horse!" he snapped. "Do you think I'm worried about a horse?"

"Then I don't know why you're so angry."

To her amazement he muttered something under his breath that might even have been a curse. Rona had not seen him so agitated. He seemed to be under the influence of some torturing emotion that he could neither voice nor control.

"I'm not angry," he said at last. "I just want to put you on your guard."

"About what?"

He took a sharp breath.

"Count Rostoy. The way you allow him to behave towards you is – is – " He swung away again.

Rona pulled herself up from her reclining position, scarcely able to believe her ears.

"Is what?" she demanded indignantly.

"Unsuitable!" he said at last.

"And exactly what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that his manners are too unrestrained."

This was intolerable. After flaunting his devotion to Countess Emilia before her eyes, he dared question her friendship with Emilia's brother.

In her anger she got to her feet and faced him.

"I have no fault to find with the Count's manners," she said stiffly.

He glared.

"I repeat, they are inappropriate. It amazes me that you haven't seen it yourself. Or are you so enamoured of him that he is allowed to make free with your hand in public, something to which you clearly do not object."

"Of course I don't. It was only a joke. I'd have had to be a great ninny to make a scene about something so silly. Are you daring to say that my behaviour has been improper?"

"I say that it has been incautious, especially remembering that a young girl is in your charge. Did Alice appreciate the 'joke'?"

"More than anyone. In fact it was a very valuable lesson for her – how to react when a man makes a fool of himself." Her eyes flashed as she added, "something which she will encounter with depressing regularity during her life. Every woman does. I only wish she could be here to witness this scene. She'd learn even more about male foolishness than she did yesterday morning."

She had the satisfaction of seeing him lost for words, and continued the attack.

"May I remind you that Count Rostoy rescued me? And – " now she came to her real grievance, " – he was the only one who did."

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