The Duke & the Preachers Daughter by Barbara Cartland

Author:Barbara Cartland
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782130758
Publisher: Barbara Cartland EBooks ltd
Published: 2012-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

The Duke passed a sleepless night.

He found himself tossing and turning and was not only beset with thoughts of Benedicta and Richard but by another more disturbing question which lay behind the whole problem.

Accordingly he rose in an extremely bad mood and had a black look on his face that Hawkins knew of old, meant that he was fighting a battle within himself.

After having breakfast alone, the Duke changed his mind about his plans for the day.

He sent away the horse that was waiting outside for his usual ride in the Park with Benedicta and instead ordered his phaeton and went back upstairs to change his clothes.

He made no explanation to Hawkins, as the valet helped him out of his highly polished riding boots and into his skin-tight yellow pantaloons which fastened under the insteps in the fashion set by the Prince Regent.

His superfine grey riding coat, which had set a new fashion among the Corinthians, fitted him like a glove. Finally, when his spotless white muslin cravat was tied to his liking, the Duke walked downstairs, a picture of fashion that was however belied by the darkness in his eyes and the hard set of his lips.

The butler handed him his high hat which he set at a somewhat raffish angle on his head and he stepped outside to where his phaeton was waiting.

In everything he did, the Duke was a perfectionist and the phaeton, which he had designed himself with its black body and yellow wheels, was not only smarter than any other vehicle of its kind to be seen in the London streets, but was also considerably faster.

Drawn by four perfectly matched horses it was impossible to imagine that any man could look more impressive or more elegant as the Duke drove away from the front of the house and over the stone bridge that spanned the lake.

*

Benedicta who had been told she was to ride alone, accompanied only by a groom, watched him from the other end of the Park pass along the drive.

She wondered where he was going and thought wistfully that she would have liked to be driving with him.

Then she remembered that the Duke was doubtless incensed with her and she wished she had not left him as abruptly as she had done last night.

She could have stayed even if it meant arguing and continuing to refuse to do what he wished, however difficult it might have been.

How, she asked herself almost passionately, could she agree to marry Richard, whatever the Social advantages it might entail?

She was well aware that few women in her position would have refused to entertain such an offer.

Even her mother, who had hoped that she would marry into the Social life that she had known as a girl, would never have aspired to the pinnacle of her becoming a Duchess.

But that was not important, Benedicta told herself.

What mattered was love – the love that had made her mother insist on marrying an unimportant Parson in defiance of her father’s wishes.

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