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M-Y Books - Barbara Cartland

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76 pages

English

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The Duke of Brockenhurst, bored by Society and cynical about the beautiful women who cast themselves before him in a desperate bid to become his Duchess, accepts a wager to ride from London to York alone and incognito. Outraged by the suggestion that he has lost his verve and the command he once had whilst distinguishing himself in the Army, he decides to reflect on his future, whilst setting himself the challenge to move amongst ordinary people undetected. Valora Melford is bereaved of her beloved father and left in the care of her grasping stepmother. Determined to force her lovely stepdaughter to marry the dissolute Sir Mortimer, who is willing to pay ten thousand pounds for the pleasure, she first entreats and then threatens Valora to do as she is told. However, Valora is made of stronger stuff than her fragile exterior would suggest and she tells her stepmother in no uncertain terms that she will not marry the repulsive old Baronet. In fact Valora is adamant that she will never marry at all, as she does not believe that true love exists. Overhearing a distraught Valora arguing with her cruel stepmother in the room next to his, the Duke of Brockenhurst decides to step in and help the maiden that he can hear is clearly in distress. With his disguise unbroken, he decides to help her escape from the inn they are staying in and avoid an unwanted marriage. Immediately trusting the handsome stranger who offers to protect her until she reaches the shelter of her grandfather’s house in York, Valora packs her few possessions and they steal away together. But ten thousand pounds is a lot of money to lose and it does not take Valora’s stepmother long to realise that her stepdaughter has escaped. Outraged, she quickly dispatches two henchmen hell-bent on dragging Valora back to the altar. With her captors in hot pursuit, it appears that Valora’s escape is doomed and the Duke’s mask will be uncovered. Drawing ever closer, the Duke must use all of his Military skills and natural quick wits to keep them safe. With danger and trickery at every turn, Valora is forced to depend upon a man whose real name she does not even know. "Barbara Cartland was the world’s most prolific novelist who wrote an amazing 723 books in her lifetime, of which no less than 644 were romantic novels with worldwide sales of over 1 billion copies and her books were translated into 36 different languages.As well as romantic novels, she wrote historical biographies, 6 autobiographies, theatrical plays and books of advice on life, love, vitamins and cookery.She wrote her first book at the age of 21 and it was called Jigsaw. It became an immediate bestseller and sold 100,000 copies in hardback in England and all over Europe in translation.Between the ages of 77 and 97 she increased her output and wrote an incredible 400 romances as the demand for her romances was so strong all over the world.She wrote her last book at the age of 97 and it was entitled perhaps prophetically The Way to Heaven. Her books have always been immensely popular in the United States where in 1976 her current books were at numbers 1 & 2 in the B. Dalton bestsellers list, a feat never achieved before or since by any author.Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime and will be best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels so loved by her millions of readers throughout the world, who have always collected her books to read again and again, especially when they feel miserable or depressed.Her books will always be treasured for their moral message, her pure and innocent heroines, her handsome and dashing heroes, her blissful happy endings and above all for her belief that the power of love is more important than anything else in everyone’s life."

Sujets

Downton Abbey

Mills & Boon

Thomas Hardy

Jane Austen

Harlequin

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Publié par	M-Y Books
Date de parution	14 octobre 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781782133353
Langue	English

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AUTHOR’S NOTE
The records of Newgate prison show that two footpads who stopped a journeyman tailor near Harrow
and robbed him of two pence and his clothes, were executed. Tom Lympus, a highwayman, was
successful for several years in robbing the mails with a reward of two hundred pounds on his head.
He was finally caught and hanged.
John Ram, commonly called Sixteen Strong Jack, was a very colourful character. Women adored
him and when he was finally brought to trial he was dressed in a new suit of pea-green, a ruffled shirt
and his hat was bound with silver string. His execution was ordered, but the night before he had
seven girls to dine with him and the company was reported to be remarkably cheerful.
The following morning he faced the gallows with composure and his body remained hung on
the usual tree before being delivered to his friends for internment.
Noblemen in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries usually were armed and travelled with
outriders. A blunderbuss was carried on stagecoaches. Those who walked unattended on commons,
fields or lonely roads often lost not only their money but their lives too.Chapter One
1825
“Major Stanley, Your Grace,” the butler announced.
The Duke of Brockenhurst put down the newspaper he had been reading and looked up
expectantly.
Into the library came a vision.
Freddie Stanley was wearing the traditional shining breastplate and high brightly polished riding
boots over the white buckskin breeches of the Life Guards.
He had left his wide-cuffed white gloves and his flamboyant, shining silver helmet with its
hanging plumes, which had been designed by the King when he was Prince Regent, in the hall.
“You dazzle me, Freddie,” the Duke exclaimed mockingly.
“Damn it all,” his friend replied, “I was handed your message just as I was going on parade and as
it seemed so urgent I came the moment I was free.”
Crossing the room with his spurs tinkling he seated himself rather gingerly in an armchair
opposite the Duke.
“What’s all this flap-doodle?” he enquired. “I expected to find the house burnt down or to learn
that you had lost your fortune on the Exchange, although I imagine that would be impossible.”
“It’s none of those things,” the Duke said in a more serious tone of voice. “The fact is Freddie, I
am bored.”
“Bored!” Freddie exclaimed. “You don’t mean to tell me that you have brought me here at a gallop
to tell me something I have known for the last two years.”
“You have?”
“Of course I have. It is not surprising.”
“What do you mean it is not surprising?” the Duke asked.
“I will answer that when you tell me why you have suddenly discovered what has been palpably
obvious to everyone.”
The Duke shifted a little restlessly in his chair.
“I realised it last night,” he replied, “when I knew it was impossible for me to ask Imogen to
marry me.”
Freddie Stanley looked astonished.
“Are you telling me,” he asked after a distinct pause, “that you intend to cry off?”
The Duke nodded.
“But my dear Brock,” Freddie expostulated, “everyone has been expecting the announcement for
months. Wentover has stalled his creditors on the assumption that you will pay his debts once Imogen
is your wife.”
“I suspected that,” the Duke said. “But why the hell I should be expected to pay for Wentover’s
extravagances, especially the diamonds he has given that pretty Cyprian he has in tow, is past my
comprehension.”
“It wouldn’t have made much of a hole in your pocket,” Freddie replied briefly. “But I don’t see
how you can do it at the eleventh hour.”
“I haven’t actually asked her to marry me.”
“No. But you made it pretty obvious, pursuing her as you have.”
The Duke’s lips twisted cynically as he remarked,
“If you ask me, I was the one pursued.”
“All right, but you did not run away. You gave parties for her in London and in the country, and
danced with her at least four or five times at the ball at Windsor Castle – I saw you with my own
eyes.”
“I am not denying all that,” the Duke answered testily. “What I am telling you, Freddie, is that I
suddenly realised last night that, beautiful though she is, Imogen has the brains of a three-year-oldchild!”
“I could have told you that,” Freddie commented laconically.
“It’s a pity you refrained from doing so!”
“What was the point? You would not have listened! You were too busy using your eyes instead
of your ears where she was concerned.”
“That was exactly what I realised last night!”
There was a pause and then Freddie said,
“You had better tell me about it.”
The Duke drew in his breath.
“I danced with Imogen for the third time at the Richmond’s ball and then we went into the
garden. With the moon shining, the Chinese lanterns and all the romantic trappings, I was just about
to kiss her, when she said something.”
“What did she say?” Freddie asked curiously.
“I cannot really remember,” the Duke replied. “It was something so banal – so obvious – that I
was suddenly aware that it was the sort of remark I would hear her make for the next fifty years and
knew I just could not stand it.”
“You really might have discovered this before!”
“I know – I know,” the Duke said testily. “But better late than never. I reiterate, Freddie, I have
not asked her to marry me.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
“That is what I am asking you,” the Duke replied.
Freddie with some difficulty sat back further in the armchair.
“It is all very well, Brock, but if you don’t marry Imogen, what is the alternative? In your position
you have to produce an heir.”
“Plenty of time for that.”
“I know, but if it’s not Imogen, it will be someone very like her.”
“Good God, are you telling me all the women in the Beau Monde are as stupid and brainless as she
is?”
“I suppose they are at that age,” Freddie said reflectively. “As you well know, they come out of the
schoolroom with only one fixed idea in their heads – ”
“To get married,” the Duke finished.
“Of course and to the highest bidder – and who higher than a Duke?”
“I will not do it!” the Duke said angrily.
There was silence before Freddie replied,
“In that case, unless you are prepared to face the music, which means Wentover’s anger and
Imogen’s tears, you had better make yourself scarce.”
“I have been wondering most of the night if that is what I should do.”
“Where have you considered going?”
The Duke shrugged his shoulders.
“Does it matter? I own, as you well know, half a dozen houses in different parts of the country
and there is my yacht in the harbour at Folkestone.”
“I suppose you are hoping I will come with you.”
“It did enter my mind,” the Duke replied with a faint smile.
Freddie thought for a moment and then he said,
“I think you are making a mistake.”
“By not marrying Imogen?”
“No – in running away in so obvious a fashion.”
“Damn it all! I am not running away,” the Duke answered. “I am making a strategic withdrawal.”
Freddie laughed.
“A pretty phrase for not facing the enemy.”
“Stop jibbing at me and help me,” the Duke begged. “That is why I have sent for you.”
He paused before he went on,
“I am well aware I am behaving in a somewhat reprehensible fashion. If Imogen would not makeme a good wife, I would certainly make her a bad husband.”
“That is very true,” Freddie agreed, “and if you ask me, marrying anyone because it is expected of
you is asking for trouble.”
The Duke groaned.
“What else can I do with my relatives at me day and night, talking as if I was Methuselah and
implying that in a year or so I shall be incapable of breeding?”
Freddie put back his head and laughed,
“That is one of the few penalties of being a Duke. There are not many others.”
“I am not so sure about that,” the Duke replied. “I find myself bound by a great many restrictions
which other people, like yourself, do not have to endure.”
Freddie looked at him speculatively and then he said,
“Do you want to hear the truth, Brock? Or will you find it disturbing to come out of your Cloud
Cuckoo Land?”
“Is that where you think I live?”
“I don’t think – I know.”
“All right, tell me the truth – it’s bound to be unpleasant.”
“I have been thinking about you for some time,” Freddie began slowly. “The truth is that you are
too important, too handsome, too rich, too damn sure of yourself.”
“Thank you,” the Duke answered sarcastica