Hungry for Love by Barbara Cartland

Author:Barbara Cartland
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782131939
Publisher: Barbara Cartland EBooks ltd
Published: 2012-12-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

Through the window Araminta could see a brightly lighted doorway and a powdered footman opening the door of the carriage ahead of them.

“It looks very grand!” she said apprehensively.

The Marquis sitting beside her smiled.

“There is no need for you to be nervous,” he said. “We shall not be seen!’

Araminta did not understand what he meant until, entering the large rather garish hallway, they were shown up a wide staircase to the first floor.

There was a long corridor with doors opening off each side of it. The man who escorted them opened one and, speaking with a foreign accent, said,

“I hope this’ll be to your Lordship’s liking.”

“It will do,” the Marquis said briefly.

“I’ll send the maître d’hôtel to you immediately, my Lord.”

The man, bowing ingratiatingly, shut the door behind him.

Araminta looked round at first apprehensively, and was then surprised at what she saw.

It was a small square room decorated with flamboyant wallpaper and hung with tasselled curtains of ruby red velvet.

The lights were shaded, there was a large comfortable sofa covered with silk cushions at the far side of the room and in the centre there was a table laid with a lace tablecloth and lit by two candles.

She turned her face to the Marquis as if asking for an explanation.

“As I told you,” he said quietly, “we will not be seen.”

“But I thought this would be – a restaurant.”

“It is one,” he replied, “and kept by a chef of whom I think you will approve – but a customer can also obtain, as you see, a cabinet particulier or private room.”

“It seems rather – strange,” Araminta said as if speaking to herself.

As they came up the stairs, she had heard voices in the distance and the sound of music.

She was sure that there were a great number of people downstairs, perhaps in the large restaurant, such as she had been too nervous to enter.

At any rate, she thought, here alone with the Marquis, she need not be ashamed of her plain gown.

She unfastened her cloak, the Marquis took it from her and laid it on a chair by the door.

After she had finished cooking his dinner at Wayne House, Araminta had asked if she could wash and had been taken to an empty bedroom in the basement.

It was sparsely furnished but clean and there was a wash basin and a mirror to arrange her hair in.

She washed carefully and wished after she had done so that she had a smart exciting gown to wear.

She had indeed put on her best dress before leaving home since she intended to speak to him that afternoon.

But she was well aware that she would look very dowdy beside the ladies the Marquis must usually entertain either in his own home or elsewhere.

‘Anyway, what does it matter what I look like?’ she asked herself. ‘He has only brought me here because, having given in over Lord Yeoman, he feels that he has to exact some sort of penalty from me.’

Equally something irrepressibly feminine within her longed to make him admire her as a woman.

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