A Virgin Bride (8 page)

She walked into the bedroom, which had been hers since she had been too old for the nursery.

All the treasures she had collected over the years were on top of the chest of drawers. There was even her old teddy bear sitting in one chair and a doll she had loved like a child in another.

“It's real nice to have you home, my Lady,” Mrs. Johnson was saying.

“It is where I always want to be,” sighed Venetia.

Because they had left London early in the morning, she had travelled in one of her school dresses.

Now the footmen had brought up her luggage she took it off and put on an old riding habit.

“You're not going riding when you've just come all that way, my Lady,” enquired Mrs. Johnson.

“I certainly am. I want to be with the horses, which I have missed so much whilst I have been away.”

When she went downstairs, she found that her father was agitated because he wanted his luncheon.

“I am not really late, Papa, I did not want to keep you waiting after luncheon while I changed into my riding habit, so I thought I would change at once.”

“As it is something I would like to do myself, I will forgive you, although you are exactly seven minutes late, and I am quite certain the first course is ruined.”

He was only teasing and Venetia slipped her hand into his.

“It's so lovely to be home, Papa, and I want to stay here and
never
go away again.”

The words came out before she could stop them.

She felt her father stiffen and then she said quickly before he could speak,

“I am quite sure that cook will have made all your favourite dishes to welcome us. So we must not hurry too much over luncheon.”

Her father smiled.

Venetia was thinking as she walked into the dining room that she only had
eleven
days left to enjoy.

She intended to make the very most of them, but at the same time her heart was crying,

‘Why, oh why does it have to be me?'

Then she scolded herself cynically that thousands of people were saying exactly the same words in every part of the world. Their plight might be far worse than being forced to marry a rich eligible Duke.

Venetia thought their luncheon was delicious.

As soon as it was finished she and her Papa walked up to the stables and there were at least a dozen new horses in their boxes since she had been away at school.

She was told that there were also several new mares in the paddock as well as a number of their foals.

“They all look marvellous, Papa!” Venetia cried as she walked from stall to stall.

Finally, although her father said she must be tired, she chose the most spirited newcomer.

It was saddled and bridled for her, while her father chose a horse he was particularly fond of.

They rode out of the stables and then galloped over the flat field that lay beyond the paddock and took a few jumps over some high hedges.

“Now I feel so much better,” Venetia exclaimed as they drew in their horses to a slow trot.

“You ride as well as when you went away, Venetia, and I know that Ashton will be delighted.”

“The horses grow older and wiser with experience, Papa, and I suppose that applies to me too.”

She had not had riding on her mind, but she knew it would be a mistake to say so.

Instead she continued,

“I would suppose, however old one becomes, there is always something new that one can enjoy or perhaps, if one is clever, change and alter.”

There was silence for a moment then he declared,

“I do think in this uncertain world one should not expect perfection, but seek it and be sensible enough and if you are disappointed, try again.”

Venetia stared at him.

“I have never known you so philosophical before, Papa, but you are right. Too many give up too quickly.”

“That is just what I was trying to say, Venetia.”

They rode on for a little while in silence and then, as if he had been thinking it over, he added,

“I am so proud of the way you are behaving Venetia. I know that yesterday you were shocked and angry at what I had planned for you, but I am absolutely convinced in my own mind that I am doing what is best for you and I can only beg of you to give it a fair chance.”

There was no possibility of her ending the marriage once it had happened and Venetia therefore knew he was really pleading with her to be pleasant to the Duke.

He must have guessed that when she returned from Lady Manvill that her Godmother would have told her why the Duke was anxious to announce his marriage so quickly.

All those who knew him would be well aware she was saving him in a very unusual way from the punishment she actually believed he richly deserved.

There was a note in her father's voice that told her he was desperately pleading with her to understand.

And because he loved her, not to let it spoil what had been between them – a perfect relationship.

They rode on for a little while in silence.

Then, as Venetia looked out at the beautiful country ahead of her and the house silhouetted against the sky, she said quietly,

“Whatever happens to me in the future, Papa, this is my home and I feel I am completely and absolutely a part of it.”

“Of course you are, my dear Venetia, and as your home there is always a special place for you here.”

“That is just what I wanted to know. I hope, Papa, you will never forget you promised me that.”

He turned around to look at her and then, as if he was following his own train of thought, he added,

“You are very beautiful, Venetia, and a beautiful woman if she is clever can always have the whole world at her feet.”

Venetia laughed.

“That is what I want to believe, Papa, but the world, whether it is large or small, takes a lot of handling. And I am at the moment somewhat inexperienced.”

The Duke smiled at her.

“You are exactly like your mother and that in my opinion is the most delightful thing about you.”

Then, as if he felt he could not say any more, he spurred his horse and set off at a gallop.

Because the field ahead was flat, Venetia raced him and, although she had a bad start, she caught him up, passed him and at the end of the field she was still in front.

“I have won!” she cried.

“By two lengths. You can hardly ask for more!”

“No, of course not. But if I have to race against the world, Papa, I think perhaps it's a good omen!”

He smiled but did not answer her.

She guessed that he was, in his own way, feeling ashamed because he had bullied her into this marriage.

As they rode home, Venetia was thinking that every minute she spent at Lynbrook Hall was precious.

There was only a short time left for her to feel free as the clouds on the horizon were darkening.

Whatever she might try to think, she was afraid –

Afraid of marriage, afraid of the future and most of all afraid of the man she was being forced to marry.

After talking to her Godmother about him, she was trying not to hate him, but equally she felt he was taking so much away from her.

Not only the amusement and gaiety she had hoped to find in London now she was no longer a schoolgirl, but above all he was destroying her dreams of love.

And the excitement and magic of meeting a man who would be attracted to her and of realising after a while that they were prepared to give each other their hearts.

She had thought it over so often at school and as she had grown older it had become part of her dreams.

It was what she had looked forward to and she was definitely entitled to it.

Yet one man by one stupid selfish action had taken all this from her.

‘How can I do anything but hate him for what he has done to me?' she asked herself late that night when she went upstairs to bed.

She was standing at the window looking out at the moonlight shining on the garden outside and the stars coming out over the trees.

She thought if there were a young and handsome man below looking up at her, she would smile at him.

He would beg her to come down and walk with him in the moonlight and she would know that she ought not to.

But it would be
so
exciting and romantic.

Now the garden was empty and the moonlight just threw shadows onto the lawn.

‘This will never happen to me,' she whispered.

Pulling the curtains she walked across the room to the bed and, as she climbed in, she blew out the candles.

Then she closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

She was thinking once again of the man who might have been outside looking up at her window.

He would be standing there because he loved her.

Because he would want her eventually as his wife.

But now she did not even have the happiness of imagining or dreaming such a scenario might happen.

In ten days time she would be married to a man who loved another woman or rather perhaps, other women.

But one thing was for certain,
he did not love her
.

The Duke of Rockinston travelled to Scotland in his yacht.

He had found that trains became slower and more unreliable the further North they went.

As he was in a great hurry he knew it was much more sensible for him to go by sea.

His yacht was a new toy he was delighted with. It boasted the latest modern improvements and gadgets.

He was already well aware that at Cowes his yacht would be superlative amongst all the others.

On the way North he had spent most of the time on the bridge with his Captain, as he always liked to direct the yacht himself.

It was appropriately named
The Thistle
because he was very proud of his Scottish blood.

His mother was a Scot and when she was widowed and handed over Rockinston Hall to her son, she moved up to Rockinston Castle in Scotland.

She always declared that when he was married, she would leave The Castle, which was now his.

There was a superb Dower House on the Scottish estate, or she could go to where her own clan was based.

At the moment she was in Rockinston Castle situated on the borders of Sutherland and Caithness.

It had been in the Rockinston family for over three hundred years and Rock loved it almost as much as he loved his house in England.

Certainly the grouse shooting was very good and the number of salmon he caught in the Brora rivalled every other river nearby.

The Thistle
entered the bay by Rockinston Castle early in the morning and Rock thought nothing could look more beautiful than all the towers and turrets silhouetted against the moors behind them.

It had taken three days sailing to reach The Castle.

Rock calculated he could not spend long with his mother before he would have to return for his wedding.

He had been ruminating about his marriage all the time he was sailing North.

He had found it difficult to sleep at night, especially as they did not stop each night and anchor in a quiet bay as was usual.

He had told the Captain it was ‘
full steam ahead'
all the way, but with the engine pounding beneath him it was impossible to escape his thoughts.

He could easily visualise how the announcement in
The Gazette
that he was to marry the daughter of the Duke of Lynbrook would astonish his friends.

Especially those in Mayfair.

They would know by now how furious the Earl of Darran was with him and his angry threats would have circulated from house to house.

Another man might have felt that he should protect his wife, however badly she behaved, and certainly would not have publicised, as the Earl was, her misdoing.

‘How could I have guessed,' Rock asked himself, ‘he would come back at three o'clock that morning when he was not supposed to return for another week?'

He was sure someone had been mischief making.

He or she had doubtless told the Earl, who had been in Cornwall, that his wife was being unfaithful.

As everyone recognised, the Earl was continually unfaithful himself and yet he was furious not only that his beautiful wife should have strayed, but also that it should be with the Duke of Rockinston.

They had always been at daggers drawn ever since Rock, when he first arrived in London, had taken a very pretty actress away from the Earl.

She was young and had made her name on the stage at
Drury Lane
and she considered the Earl unpleasant, as so many others did.

She had therefore kept him at arms length, but the Earl was determined to become her protector and he was sure it was only a question of time before she succumbed to his very genuine offers.

When Rock swept her away from him just as he felt he was about to be victorious, he was wild with anger.

From that moment on, although Rock did not worry himself about it, he became a bitter enemy.

And now that the man he most disliked should have made love to his wife was too much for the Earl to endure.

He had been told it was happening, as Rock had guessed, by a mischief-maker, a woman who actually had a grudge against both men.

The Earl had spent a month or so at her beck and call, but eventually found her a bore and discarded her promptly. Rock had simply taken no notice of her at all, although they met frequently.

She was considered a beauty and did have a certain standing in some Social circles.

She had been determined to wreak her revenge at some point on both of them.

When she was informed in a whisper that Rock was having an affair with the beautiful Leone Darran, she realised that her opportunity had finally come.

Managing to find out where the Earl was staying in Cornwall, she wrote him an affectionate letter in which she spoke of the old times when they had been so happy with each other and said how much she had missed him at a recent party.

Then at the end she wrote,