The Winning Post Is Love Read online

  And even just because she wanted it!

  He was prepared to give her the Racecourse as well as the moon and the stars.

  He drew nearer and nearer to The Castle.

  As he did so, he realised that, for the first time in his life, it was taking second place in his thoughts.

  There was at this moment only Dolina, Dolina!

  As he thought of her, he could hear the softness of her voice and the music of her laughter.

  He could not put her bewitching quality into words.

  He only knew that when she was near him, he felt as if he came alive!

  He was so sure their vibrations touched each other, even though she had never looked at him in the way he wanted her to.

  He had never put it into words, but he had felt it was just a question of time and then she would realise how important he was to her.

  Just as he knew that she was everything to him.

  ‘This is love, the love I have sought all my life and now I have lost it.’

  The words seemed to be written in fire in front of his eyes as he arrived at The Castle.

  As he dismounted, he wished he could somehow reach London before she left for France.

  He would beg her, if necessary on his knees, to stay with him.

  But he knew it was impossible.

  As he walked into The Castle, he felt as if he was walking towards the guillotine.

  *

  Riding back to her home on Starlight which Gordon had insisted on lending her, Rosetta felt as if the door of a safe filled with treasures had been shut abruptly in her face.

  She had never been so happy as she had been these last few days.

  Not only seeing The Castle and talking about the Racecourse but just being with the Marquis.

  She had been so prepared to hate him, because he neglected his people.

  And, because she thought the stories about his love affairs in London were unpleasant, he did not behave as a Marquis of Millbrook should.

  Yet when she was with him, it was impossible not to forgive him.

  Impossible not to find that he was very different in every way from the man she had envisioned.

  She had been thrilled and delighted he had listened to all she had to say and agree to finance the Racecourse.

  She had enjoyed more than anything else the way they had duelled with each other in words.

  She had managed not only to make him laugh but to think what she wanted him to think.

  It had all been fascinating and tantalising.

  She had known, when she woke in the morning, she was instantly thinking of the Marquis and wondering how soon she would be seeing him again.

  ‘I have been stupid enough to fall in love,’ she told herself frantically. ‘Now I have to avoid him and never speak to him again.’

  She felt as if the very thought of it drew a darkness over the setting sun.

  It even made the flowers in her garden appear faded and not as beautiful as when she had left them.

  Her father, however, was delighted to see her.

  “It’s so nice to have you back, my dear,” he said, “although your aunt is looking after me very well. There is a most interesting book she has been reading to me, which I wish to discuss with you when you have the time.”

  “I have plenty of time for you now, Papa.”

  Her father looked at her enquiringly and then she explained to him about the Racecourse.

  “So the Marquis is really going to pay for it?”

  “He has promised he will,” replied Rosetta, “and, of course, Lord Waincliffe and his brother are thrilled.”

  “I expect they are, from what I hear they are almost penniless and The Hall is falling down on their heads.”

  “Quite a number of ceilings have already fallen in and I cannot imagine how they will ever be able to pay for repairs unless, as they hope, the Racecourse makes them a lot of money.”

  “It certainly will if it ever materialises, but I expect it will take time and these grandiose ideas often come to nothing.”

  It was what Rosetta was afraid of, but she did not say so to her father.

  She went to the kitchen where, Betty, their maid, was delighted she had come home.

  “I’ve missed you, Miss Rosetta,” she said, “and I tells you it’s much too far for me to walk to the village to get the food for the Master. So I’m real glad you be back and that’s the truth.”

  “I will bring all you will need tomorrow morning,” Rosetta promised. “But Papa seems in good health and you know he enjoys your cooking far more than mine.”

  “Now you’re flatterin’ me, miss. You be a brilliant cook for sure or I wouldn’t be a-sayin’ it.”

  “Thank you, Betty.”

  Rosetta walked slowly up to her room.

  Gazing out of the window, she wondered what was happening at The Hall.

  Would the Marquis be annoyed she was not there when he returned in the evening? Or would he be content to talk to the boys about the Racecourse without her?

  ‘I love him,’ she whispered into the twilight.

  As far as she was concerned, she had left her heart at The Hall.

  *

  Dinner was quite a pleasant meal with her father discussing a new book that had just been published. As it was a history of Scotland, it was as interesting to Rosetta as it was to him. It described many of the great castles lying North of the border.

  When they talked about castles, she could not help thinking that no castle could be as beautiful or as exciting and enchanting as the one belonging to the Marquis.

  ‘Perhaps I will never see it again,’ she mused to herself, ‘unless he does as I asked him and opens the doors to the public.’ She thought, if he did so, she would be one of the first to cross the threshold as a tourist.

  Then she was forced to remind herself that she had to hide from him – maybe for two or three years until he had forgotten her.

  That, of course, he would find quite easy to do if he believed she was living in France as the wife of the Duc.

  Because her father was almost an invalid, he went to bed early and so did her aunt.

  Rosetta stayed in the garden for some time and then because the beauty of the moon and the stars hurt her, she felt that she should retire to bed.

  But she knew it would be impossible to sleep when she was thinking of the Marquis.

  She now wanted, as she had never wanted anything before, to be with him – to talk to him, to listen to him and to hear him laugh.

  ‘I love him, I love him,’ she told the stars over and over again.

  Then she turned round to walk back to the house, but, because she knew she would not sleep, she hesitated.

  She remembered that tomorrow at any rate it would be dangerous for her to ride, just in case by any chance she came into contact with the Marquis.

  It had not struck her before how difficult it would be to hide from him, especially if he rode as much as he did at The Castle.

  Yet in the past he had always returned to London after just a short visit.

  Then Rosetta told herself she was being silly.

  Of course he would go back to the beautiful women who were missing him and who kept the village tongues wagging.

  It was easy to say that, but she would not be able to ride as she usually did if he was also out riding.

  She was now feeling agitated, so she went to her horse’s stall. He was obviously pleased to see her and he nuzzled against her as she patted him.

  “Have you missed me, Atlas? I am sure you have.”

  She felt guilty because she had enjoyed riding the other horses, especially the Marquis’s and Starlight

  “You are mine, Atlas” she muttered, “and now you have to help me. I need your help more than I have ever needed anything before.”

  She saddled him and then without bothering about her dress, she mounted him.

  Then she rode out of the garden and onto the land outside.

  Th
e moon was now high in the sky and the stars were twinkling cheekily at her.

  She felt all she needed now was help and guidance.

  The only person in the world she could turn to who would understand was the monk.

  She had gone to him so many times in the past, in fact, whenever she felt lonely, unhappy or worried.

  Somehow, when she had prayed, he had helped her and she had known the answer to the questions in the back of her mind.

  ‘I will go to him now,’ she decided. ‘I will tell him I am in love and only he will make me understand that it’s only a dream that can never become reality.’

  Once again, she told herself that the Marquis would soon forget her now she was no longer there.

  She had amused him, she had interested him.

  But, when he returned to London and the glittering parties at Marlborough House, he would never think of her again.

  As she told herself that, it was as if a knife pieced her heart. She felt the agony of it was more intense than anything she had ever known.

  She did not hurry, but rode across the fields and came to the beginning of Monkswood.

  She did not enter it the way she had done when the Marquis had followed her – then she had ridden along the path that went into the very centre of the wood.

  Now she rode round outside the wood because she did not want to have to guide Atlas in the darkness.

  She wanted to keep in the moonlight until she was near to the Chapel and could reach it easily.

  Her well-trained horse would stay in the field and wait for her.

  She found the place she had so often visited before.

  Having tied the reins together over his neck, she left Atlas free to eat the grass, knowing he could not go far. She had only to whistle and then he would come galloping up to her.

  “I will not be long,” she said as she patted his neck.

  Then she walked into the wood.

  She knew the way so well that even in the darkness she did not stumble in the undergrowth.

  She walked along a path she had made herself that led to the centre of the wood where the Chapel was.

  Then, suddenly to her great astonishment just ahead of her, there was a light.

  She stopped and wondered what it could be.

  Then she realised it was a fire. It was quite a small one, but she could see it between the trees.

  Someone had lit a fire near the pool and the Chapel and for a moment she wondered who it could possibly be.

  Then she thought it must be poachers – Gordon had complained about them and so had the Marquis. Perhaps the men were setting traps and that would certainly annoy the joint owners of the wood.

  Moving very slowly, so that she would not make a noise and attract attention, she moved from tree to tree.

  Once she was close enough, she could see the fire burning brightly beside the pool.

  It illuminated both the flowers growing round the pool and, to her great surprise, a number of men sitting on the ground around it.

  She could see their heads very clearly.

  She counted ten of them.

  Ten men!

  It seemed incredible that they should be poaching in such a large number and anyway it was too early in the year for the pheasants.

  Now she could hear their voices and they sounded different to the villagers.

  They were certainly not local men and she had a suspicion, although she was not at all sure, that they had Cockney accents.

  Creeping a little nearer, but keeping well behind the trees, she moved forward.

  Now she could hear what they were saying –

  “There be no ’urry,” one of the men said in a very rough voice. “If we waits till nigh on midnight, there be no one about as I finds out last night.”

  “I ’opes they didn’t see you?” one of the other men asked.

  “No, course not, them stables be so big you can ’ide an army in ’em.”

  Another man laughed.

  “Let’s ’ope there won’t be no army there tonight.”

  “Don’t worry,” the first man replied. “I sees ’im goin’ orf to bed soon after nine and I watches the lights in the top rooms and they goes orf ’bout ten o’clock.”

  “What about them grooms who be there at night?” another man enquired. “I ’ears in all them smart stables there be a nightwatchman.”

  “I ’ears that too,” another chimed in. “But if they be the young ’uns and unmarried they sleeps like babies and if they do wake, we’ll deal with ’em quick enough.”

  The man who had spoken first came back,

  “The one I ’ears last night were a-snorin’ like a grampus!”

  They laughed and then another man scoffed,

  “Would you know a grampus if you saw one?”

  “I’d know ’im if ’e be as good as them ’orses,” came the answer. “And don’t forget we’ve got to get ’em to Southampton as quick as we can. Once they be out of the country, the money’ll be in our pockets. And who’s to know we’ve taken ’em away?”

  “Who indeed and a pretty price the Count be payin’ for ’em.”

  “Them foreigners ’as more money than us and you can bet ’e’ll be winnin’ big prizes at the races at Paris and other places on yon Continent.”

  “Now what you’ve got to do,” the first man said, “instead of all this talk, be to make real sure your gun be workin’, but don’t kill ’em unless you ’as to. Aim for their arms or their legs and they’ll not be able to stop us takin’ them ’orses. And there won’t be no hue and cry after us if none be dead.”

  “That be true enough. I knows we be good shots.”

  “The most important thing,” one added, “be to get them ’orses away afore any of ’em knows just what’s goin’ on!”

  “That be exactly what we be a-goin’ to do. When they wakes in the mornin’, them ’orses won’t be there and they’ll ’ave no idea where they be gorn to!”

  “Then ’is Nibs can go back to ’is pretty ladies – and them won’t be runnin’ away from ’im!”

  There was laughter and one of them made a remark so vulgar that Rosetta did not want to hear it.

  She knew she had heard enough.

  What she must do urgently and at once was to warn the Marquis as soon as she possibly could.

  Creeping back very slowly, she knew what would happen if they had the slightest suspicion they had been overheard – the men would either take her prisoner or kill her to stop her talking.

  The way she had come into the wood had seemed very easy when she had first walked along it.

  Now it seemed an eternity before, hardly daring to breathe, she reached the place where she had left Atlas.

  He was cropping the grass and she ran towards him.

  Then she rode away.

  It was some distance before she finally turned and headed for The Castle.

  She rode as fast as she could, forcing Atlas into a gallop until they reached the orchard and then the garden.

  She rode frantically across the lawn.

  And then she turned round the corner of the house towards the front door.

  Everything was very quiet, but she knew that there would be a night footman on duty in the hall.

  She beat her fists on the door.

  When the footman opened it, she pushed her way in before she spoke.

  “Wake every man in the house and the stables,” she cried breathlessly, “as quick as you can. Thieves are going to steal the horses that arrived this afternoon!”

  Even as she spoke, she started to climb the stairs.

  “I will warn his Lordship,” she shouted, “but hurry, hurry and rouse the men!”

  The footman had obviously seen her before and she heard him running across the hall and under the staircase as she reached the landing.

  She tore along the corridor.

  Fortunately, when the Marquis had been showing her and the boys round the Castle, he had taken them into his own ro
om.

  He had told them that all the Marquises had always slept there and it was a most impressive bedroom.

  Looking at the enormous four-poster bed with its red velvet curtains and embroidered heraldry of the family, Rosetta had thought that he was right.

  As she pulled open the door, she was afraid for a moment that it might be locked.

  But it was not.

  Now she could see that the Marquis was not asleep, but sitting up in bed reading a book.

  She was not to know until later that he had tried to sleep, but had found it impossible because he was thinking about her, so he had thought instead he would read until he was really tired and then fall asleep through exhaustion.

  As it was, when Rosetta ran to the end of his bed, he stared at her in utter astonishment.

  He thought he must be dreaming.

  “There are ten ruffians planning to steal your new horses and sell them overseas,” she called out anxiously.

  It was hard to speak clearly, because she had run up the stairs so quickly.

  The Marquis could only stare at her.

  “They are coming here at midnight,” she screamed. “They have guns and will shoot at your men if they try to prevent them from taking the horses.”

  “How do you – know this?” the Marquis asked her, feeling bewildered.

  For a moment, he found it difficult to take in what she was saying, because in the candlelight she looked so indescribably lovely.

  It was almost impossible to believe she was there.

  It could not be true.

  “I was going to the Chapel,” she said in a breathless little voice, “and they were sitting there in the wood beside the pool. When I heard what they said – I knew I had to warn you.”

  “Tell the footman in the hall to rouse the servants in the house,” instructed the Marquis, “while I dress.”

  “I have already told him to do so. I will go to the window while you dress.”

  She walked across the room and pulled back the curtain over one of the windows.”

  The moonlight seemed almost to envelope her.

  She was still breathless from running so quickly up the stairs and the strange sensation she had felt in her heart as she saw the Marquis sitting up in bed was still with her.

  Now she could hear him moving about the room and opening a cupboard as he dressed and then he told her,