A Ghost in Monte Carlo by Barbara Cartland

Author:Barbara Cartland
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78213-011-6
Publisher: Barbara Cartland EBooks ltd

9

Violet Featherstone moved restlessly about her sitting room. It was a very attractive room with windows opening out onto a balcony from which there was a magnificent view of the sea.

Wisteria hung over the balustrade in long purple tendrils, and from two ancient stone urns, which Violet had discovered broken and forgotten in some peasant’s garden, pink geraniums cascaded in luxuriant profusion.

The Villa was furnished with period pieces brought from England and there was none of the gaudy, ornate pomp which so many residents in the South of France thought desirable. Violet had always loved beautiful things. She had an inborn instinct for what was good, and Eric’s considerable fortune had enabled her to indulge her taste.

But today Violet had no eyes for her own possessions. She moved from the Sheraton bureau to the Knole settee, from an Adam console table to the window and back again without seeing any of them. She was thinking of one person and one person only – Robert Stanford! It was the middle of the afternoon and still he had not called on her. She guessed that in all likelihood he was out riding and alone, nevertheless it was a departure from their usual routine and with a sudden fear she began to recollect the times recently when Robert had seemed less eager for her company and to add them up to a formidable total.

When he had first come to Monte Carlo but a few days after her own arrival, it had seemed that he could never see too much of her and that the days were too short for all the things they had to say to each other. But slowly, so that she had not realised it until now, he had changed. She could not explain even to herself how it had happened. It had been so gradual, and intent on hiding the depth of her own feelings from him, she had not noticed the change in his.

Now, twisting her hands together as she walked up and down on the valuable Persian rugs with which the room was carpeted, Violet knew there was a barrier between them, a barrier of reserve and unspoken secrets.

What was it and how had it come to be erected? She could not answer the question even to herself. She only knew that Robert was different, Robert, whose tempestuous, exciting love making had swept her off her feet, was now quieter, his impetuosity gone.

Why had she been so blind?

She should have been alert, perceptive enough to notice the very first severance in the links which bound them together. She should have been on her guard, knowing that her power over him was never as strong as she would have herself believe.

She caught a sudden glimpse of her own reflection in an ancient gold-framed mirror which hung on one wall. She looked old, with a frown between her eyes, her lips drooping. She threw back her head defiantly – this was no way to captivate a man or to keep him enraptured.

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