A Dangerous Disguise by Barbara Cartland Read Free Book Online Page A

would not say any more while Greta helped her to undress, and brushed out her hair. But deep inside she was troubled.
    'How will he ever forgive me for deceiving him?' she thought.
    When she thought of the Duke, there was a little sob in her heart. She was doing something wrong and she felt she should run away.
    Then she told herself that nothing and no one could stop her seeing him tomorrow.
    'Perhaps when tomorrow is over I will have to disappear,' she thought. 'But not until then.'
    But she did not want to leave him. She wanted to stay. She wanted this wonderful time to last as long as possible.
    And she prayed that there would be no ugly, angry reckoning when it all came to an end.
    *
    When Ola awoke she knew that this was going to be an exciting day and wonderful things were going to happen. She got out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror to see if she looked tired and worn out. Instead she seemed younger than she actually was and her eyes were shining.
    'I must make myself look lovely for him,' she thought. 'I wonder if he is thinking of me, as I am thinking of him.'
    She tried to be realistic. He had so many duties. He would be thinking of them, not of her. That was only right.
    It was a saddening thought.
    What she longed to do was send him a note saying that he was in her heart. But a lady could not do that, even when the gentleman had seemed attracted by her, because as every woman knew – and if she did not, she soon learned – men could split their minds into different compartments, and think of only one at a time, without, apparently, noticing that it contradicted the others.
    She tried to picture him sitting at his desk, studying important papers, perhaps preparing for an appointment with the Queen. And then, remembering that he had made a promise to a girl he'd met the night before.
    And regretting it?
    It would be terrible if he were to think her a nuisance.
    Her father had always attracted much admiration from women, but he was never impressed by it.
    "The more women talk the less I believe them," he had once said.
    "Of course you believe them, my dear, when they are flattering you," his wife had replied, amused. She knew her husband cared only for her.
    Her father had snorted, as he always did when he was embarrassed.
    "They do it so clumsily," he grunted. "It's not for a woman to run after a man, but for a man to run after a woman." Catching his wife giving him a teasing look, he had added hastily, "An unmarried man, of course."
    She remembered that now, and knew that it would be terrible if the Duke thought she was running after him.
    "He must have a dozen women doing that already," she told herself sadly. "He's so handsome. He's probably forgotten me."
    For a moment her sense of humour came to her rescue.
    "Of course, I'm a Princess, which gives me the advantage."
    But then she sighed and became despondent again.
    "He'd probably have said the same to any Princess. That's the problem with having the advantage. You never really know what the other person is thinking."
    As she was drinking coffee there was a knock on the door, which Greta answered, returning with a letter.
    "This was delivered for you downstairs," she said, handing it to Ola.
    On the letter was written,
    To Her Royal Highness, the Princess Relola.
    Tearing it open, she read,
    I shall be downstairs at 10 o'clock precisely. We are going riding.
    John.
    'He hasn't forgotten me,' her heart sang.
    Then a terrible thought seized her.
    "Greta, did you pack my riding habit?"
    "Of course I did," said Greta, bristling with indignation at this slur.
    In moments she had taken out the black broadcloth habit and was brushing it down. It fitted snugly onto Ola's trim figure, emphasising her tiny waist and flaring hips. Beneath it she wore a snowy white shirt, frilled at the neck and down the front, with a pearl brooch at her throat.
    For her head there was a cheeky black hat, decorated with white streamers that flowed down her back.
    At precisely