Love in the Moon Page 7

  “Well?” he asked at length. “Are you still content with the moon or do you wish to come back to Earth with all its troubles?”

  “I have none at the moment.”

  “Then you are very lucky!”

  “What are yours?”

  She turned from the window to face him as she asked the question.

  “I have none, except the difficulty of deciding whether you are real or just a figment of my imagination.”

  “I assure you I am very real.”

  “And very different from anyone I have ever seen before” the Duc finished. “I may be wrong, but I have a feeling that how you appear on the surface may not be quite genuine.”

  Canèda started.

  “Why should you think that?” she asked quickly, “Shall I say that living up here on what you call the moon, I have grown perceptive about people. I use my instinct rather than my ears.”

  Without really thinking, because earlier they had been speaking about Shakespeare, Canèda quoted,

  ‘Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind.’

  Even as she said the words she blushed, knowing that it was a mistake to mention love, but it was too late to retract the words.

  “Now the most abused word in the French language appears,” the Duc remarked. “L’amour! I wondered when we would get round to it.”

  “That is not what I meant, as you are well aware, monsieur,” Canèda said almost crossly. “I was merely quoting from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “I know that,” the Duc said, “and I thought perhaps I should have quoted that particular play when you talked about my being alone. Surely you remember – ‘One grows, lives and dies in single blessedness’?”

  Canèda thought that he was throwing her a challenge, but, because she could not say that his single blessedness was thrust upon him because of his wife’s madness and, feeling that the whole conversation was becoming somewhat uncomfortable, she moved from the window to sit down on the sofa.

  “I must go soon,” she said in a different tone of voice. “Ben and I have quite a long ride to go back to where we are staying.”

  “I have already suggested that you might prefer to stay with me,” the Duc pointed out.

  The question, ‘unchaperoned?’ trembled on Canèda’s lips. Then she told herself that he would think her idiotic if she said anything so superfluous.

  Of course a woman from the circus would not expect to be chaperoned.

  Then while she thought it would be amusing and a step forward to stay with the Duc, she wondered what else he might expect if she did so.

  Then she told herself that she was sure she could look after herself.

  She knew that for her to stay at the Château without Madame de Goucourt would make Harry very angry and certainly it was something that her mother would not have approved of.

  But she had wanted the Duc to invite her and now he had done so and it seemed foolish to back off from the very moment when she could give him a short sharp lesson and then leave him, she hoped, disconsolate without her.

  ‘If I can see him only in the daytime, it will take much longer to get him in the position that I want him in,’ Canèda thought to herself, ‘which is at my feet, where Lord Warrington and all those other men have been.’

  It was as if her thoughts had been discernible in her eyes, because after a moment the Duc said,

  “I am not in the habit of having my invitations considered so carefully.”

  “I am trying to make up my mind whether to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

  “That is obvious!” the Duc replied. “Most people I extend my hospitality to are only too eager to accept it.”

  “I am glad I am different,” Canèda retorted.

  “I shall be very disappointed if you are so different that you refuse me.”

  Canèda looked down and her long eyelashes were dark against her cheeks.

  “What I am wondering, monsieur, is what you – expect from your guests when you – entertain them.”

  As if he understood what she was trying hesitatingly to say, the Duc smiled before he replied,

  “Shall I answer that by saying that I expect as much as you are prepared to give? I am not an ogre or a barbarian.”

  Canèda drew in her breath.

  Then she said,

  “With that assurance, monsieur, I am delighted to accept your invitation.”

  “Then what we will do,” the Duc said, “is to send your man back to collect what clothes you need. He can take one of my carriages and if he leaves soon he can be back in plenty of time for you to look beautiful at dinner.”

  “I will certainly try,” Canèda replied, “but now I want to ride your horse, as you promised me I could.”

  The Duc opened the door and she went back to the bedroom to put on her riding hat.

  As she looked at herself in the mirror, she could not help but feel a little tremor of fear when she thought how angry Harry would be if he had any idea of what she was doing.

  Then she told herself that what the eye did not see the heart would not grieve over.

  He need never know that she had done anything so outrageous, only that she had taken her revenge on the Duc as she had intended to do when she had left England.

  There was still Madame de Goucourt to contend with and Canèda sat down at a secrétaire in the corner of the bedroom and, carefully choosing a plain piece of writing paper that was not embossed with the name of the Château, she wrote a quick note.

  She told Madame that she had decided to stay the night with the friend she was visiting and hoped to be back tomorrow.

  She finished,

  “Don’t worry about me, dear Madame, I am well looked after and I will return tomorrow. Enjoy yourself with your friends, and we will compare notes later.

  My love and gratitude,

  Yours affectionately,

  Canèda.”

  She sealed the letter, addressed it to ‘Madame de Goucourt’ and put it in her pocket so that she could give it to Ben without the Duc seeing it.

  ‘I am behaving very badly,’ she thought as she left the bedroom, knowing that she would return to it later.

  Then she thought that at least it was fun, but perhaps that was an inadequate word.

  It was intriguing and exciting and splendidly exhilarating to think that her revenge on the Duc de Saumac was working out exactly as she had intended.

  Chapter 4

  Riding round the school on the Duc’s grey horse, Canèda thought that she had never enjoyed herself more.

  Although she had ridden constantly with Harry and they had raced against each other, she had been aware that because he was older than she and was a more experienced rider, he would always be the winner.

  But she had with Ariel just beaten all the Officers competing against her over a timed course and now she was attempting to beat the Duc.

  He had challenged her, saying,

  “Up to now I have been the judge. Now I think I should be a participator.”

  Because she thought it might annoy him and also draw his attention, she had replied,

  “But of course, and I would be prepared, if you are faster than I am, to concede victory on one condition.”

  “What is that?” he enquired.

  “That you allow me to ride Toujour.”

  This was the name, she had discovered, of his grey horse, and she had the feeling that he was very confident of winning because Toujour in his own way was as exceptional as Ariel.

  The Duc hesitated before he replied and she saw the twinkle in his eyes.

  “Are you suggesting,” he asked, “that I should have an unfair advantage if I rode my own horse?”

  “But, of course, you would!” Canèda replied. “Toujour knows the course far better than Ariel and I am sure that the reason you have not competed before was that you felt it unsporting not to give your competitors a chance.”

  The Duc laughed.

  “Very well. You shall
ride Toujour and I will choose another mount.”

  He gave an order to one of the grooms, who brought forward a horse that had not jumped so far.

  He was a young chestnut and only to look at him made Canèda aware that he would be very fast.

  She was, however, delighted to think that she could ride the Duc’s horse, because she knew from the expression on the faces of his Officers that never before had anyone other than his owner been allowed to mount him.

  Because she was very experienced in handling horses and both Harry and Ben had taught her how to control them, she did not attempt to mount Toujour until she had made a great fuss of him.

  She patted his neck, stroked his nose and talked to him in a soft beguiling voice and only when she felt that the horse was really aware of her did she move to his side to show that she was ready to be helped into the saddle.

  The groom would have done so, but the Duc gestured him to one side.

  Instead of cupping his hands in the usual way, he stretched out his fingers on each side of her tiny waist and lifted her into the air.

  For one moment as he did so their faces were very close together and she thought that there was the expression in his grey eyes that she had hoped to see.

  Then she was seated in the saddle and the Duc with an experienced hand arranged her skirt over her stirrup.

  She moved Toujour into position and then waited while the Duc took out his stopwatch.

  “Bon chance!” all the young Officers were murmuring.

  The Duc was very businesslike as he asked,

  “Are you ready, mademoiselle’?”

  “I am ready, monsieur.”

  “Then – go!”

  He pressed the button of the stopwatch and there was no need for Canèda to use either her whip or spur on Toujour,

  He knew exactly what was expected of him and he took the first fence magnificently.

  He was a very large horse, higher even than Ariel, and she found it a thrilling experience to ride something so magnificent and as a special privilege accorded only to her.

  They went round the course in what she was sure was record time and there were cheers and applause from the Officers who were watching.

  Then, as she drew Toujour to a standstill in front of the Duc, they rushed forward, exclaiming,

  “Magnificent! Fantastic! You were sensational, mademoiselle.”

  “I had a sensational horse,” Canèda replied.

  She would have slipped from the saddle, but before she could do so, the Duc was there to lift her to the ground.

  As he did so, she said,

  “I admit, monsieur, that Toujour is the second most wonderful horse in the world!”

  “Both he and I are honoured,” the Duc replied formally.

  She thought, although she was not sure, that he lifted her down more slowly than he need have done and that his hands lingered for a moment on her waist.

  Then he turned to mount the chestnut and a Senior Officer had the stopwatch in his hand.

  Watching him, Canèda knew that he rode better than any other man she had ever seen in her life. She had felt that no one could be a better rider than her father until Harry grew up.

  Now, although she hated to admit it, she knew that the Duc was better than either of them.

  There was something about the way he rode that made him seem a part of his horse and they moved in unison and with a rhythm that was almost like hearing the sound of music.

  He did not appear to hurry, but, as he reached the last two fences, she knew that the officers were tense, and she herself held her breath.

  One second – two seconds.

  He brought the chestnut to a standstill and the Officer holding the stopwatch proclaimed,

  “You are the winner, Monsieur le Duc, by half a second!”

  A cheer went up, but it was somewhat half-hearted after the applause Canèda that had received.

  The Duc dismounted and walked to her side.

  “Are you satisfied?” he asked.

  She raised her eyebrows at the strange question.

  “That I was not cheating,” he explained.

  “I did not think you would do so and anyway I was only teasing. Moreover, although it may surprise you, I am aware that as a woman I am expected to take second place.”

  “Most women expect to be first in everything,” the Duc answered.

  “Except, of course, in sport.”

  She saw by his smile that her reply amused him.

  When they returned to the Château, they duelled with each other in words and again Canèda found it an amusing experience that she had not known before.

  But ever since she had been in London the men had persisted in flattering her to the exclusion of all other conversation.

  Whatever she tried to talk about, the subject always got back to love in one way or another, but now with the Duc every word they spoke was more like a rapier thrust.

  She had the feeling while she was sparring with him that he was determined to be the victor not only in riding but also because he was a man and she was a woman.

  He was so essentially masculine that she found herself vividly conscious of him even when he was silent.

  She was sure that he would be very difficult to understand and she realised how easy it had been for him to build up a reputation of being awe-inspiring and aloof from other people.

  The mere fact that he lived alone in his fantastic fortress of a Château far above the Earth below him, and was not interested in the social life that was so much a part of the Loire Valley, made him a law unto himself.

  When they arrived back at the Château, Canèda found that Ben had not yet returned with her clothes.

  Therefore she merely took off her hat as she had for luncheon and, having washed, she joined the Duc in the tower sitting room where he told her he would wait for her.

  To her surprise, beside the sofa there was a small table on which was a silver tray containing what was obviously an English silver teapot and a number of pâtisseries.

  Canèda gave a little laugh of delight.

  “You are very considerate, monsieur.”

  “I know the English are at a loss without their cups of tea.”

  “I am astonished that you should be aware of that,” Canèda said, remembering that his mother had died when he was very young.

  “Shall I say that I have been taught a number of English customs by one of your countrywomen?”

  Canèda knew by the way he spoke that she had been someone close to him and, although she did not know why, she felt a little tug at her heart.

  She sat down on the sofa and poured herself out a cup of tea saying,

  “I presume, as you are being very French at the moment, you do not wish to join me.”

  He was obviously more perceptive even than she had suspected, for he replied,

  “Because I suggested I have a chère amie. What else do you expect?”

  “I expect nothing, monsieur. Why should I?”

  “Because like all women,” he said cynically, “you like to think of a man with a wife constantly at his side.”

  “I think you are putting words into my mouth,” Canèda parried sharply.

  “But it is true,” he persisted. “I can assure you that I am very happy living in my corner of the moon, although, of course, you will understand that I occasionally step down from the sky and mix with mere mortals on the earth below.”

  Canèda knew that he was mocking her and she resented it because he was making her feel as if she had been rather gauche and foolish.

  She set down the teapot and said,

  “Perhaps I have interrupted your plans and engagements and the best thing I could do would be to return to my friend.”

  The Duc laughed.

  “Now you are definitely trying to punish me for a crime I have not committed and, I reiterate, you are interrupting nothing. If you were not here, I should have dined alone in all my glory!”

  “And
that would have amused you?”

  “The answer is actually ‘yes’ the Duc replied. “I have learnt to be self-sufficient and, when I am alone, I have books and a certain amount of work to do.”

  “What sort of work?”

  “I keep a record of the horses that pass through my school and the men who ride them. I am also compiling a thesis on the schooling of horses.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Canèda exclaimed. “Please may I have a copy of it?”

  “It is not yet finished,” the Duc replied, “but, of course, I will send you one if you will give me an address.”

  “That might be difficult as I am a wanderer on the face of the Earth! It is only chance that I have dropped in on the moon in passing.”

  He gave her a shrewd glance that told her that he was not deceived by this remark.

  “By chance?” he questioned. “I doubt that.”

  “Why should you?”

  “Because your entrance was too well thought out, You must have known that I would be in the school at that particular time and you must also have known, because you care for your horse, where it was safe to jump the wall.”

  He was more intuitive than she had expected and, because she did not wish to be drawn into a discussion as to why she was there, Canèda relapsed into silence.

  He sat looking at her until he said,

  “Tell me about the circus you belong to, if in fact it exists.”

  “Why should you doubt that it does?”

  “Because I find it hard to believe, despite your expertise in handling Ariel, that you perform in a circus or that you have ever mixed with the type of person one finds in them.”

  “What do you know about circuses?”

  “Quite a lot, as it happens,” the Duc responded. “A number of them come here every summer because they hope to sell me their horses. It may surprise you, but the chestnut on which I beat you this afternoon was born in a circus.”

  “Like Ariel!” Canèda exclaimed.

  Then, because she wanted to convince him that she was with a circus, she told him about Juno and her death and how all she had left behind was Ariel and Ben.

  She saw that the Duc was interested and when she had finished he said,