The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) by Barbara Cartland Read Free Book Online Page A

who he marries, whether it is you or me?”
    “I more or less said that,” Antonia admitted, “but I am not as pretty as you, Felicity! Duchesses should be outstanding and beautiful, as you well know!”
    “You certainly look dreadful in that old gown of mine,” Felicity said. “What on earth made you wear it?”
    “I have nothing else,” Antonia said simply. “Your green one is so tight it is almost indecent! And I have had no time to mend the pink one which had burst its seams through sheer old age! After all, you wore it for years before it was handed down to me.”
    “If there had been time you could have altered one of my new gowns,” Felicity said.
    “And what do you suppose Mama would have said to that?” Antonia asked.
    She realised how distressed her sister was looking and said soothingly:
    “It may be all right, Felicity. We must just pray he will think it better to ask for me, since I am willing to marry him, than for you who cannot bear the idea.”
    “I will not marry him! I would rather die!” Felicity said dramatically. “I belong to Harry ... I always have. I could not ... I could not let another man ... touch me!”
    “I suppose all women feel like that when they are in love,” Antonia said as if she was speaking to herself. “But why are men so different? They seem to be able to make love to two or three women at the same time without it perturbing them!”
    “That is not love!” Felicity said. “It is something horrid! Harry says that because he loves me he can never even see another woman! They just do not exist where he is concerned!”
    Antonia did not answer and Felicity suddenly put her arms around her sister.
    “Oh, Antonia, help me, help me!” she cried. “I am so frightened, so terrified that I shall be made to marry this horrible Duke and never see Harry again!”
    “I am sure it will be all right,” Antonia said soothingly. At the same time even to herself her voice sounded uncertain.
    The Duke arrived at 29 Chesham Street precisely at three o’clock, and as a concession to the importance of the occasion he travelled in a closed carriage.
    It was not a great distance from Berkeley Square to Chesham Street in Belgravia where the Earl had a small and comparatively inexpensive residence.
    The Duke’s London carriage, with his crest on the painted panels and the accoutrements of silver, was extremely impressive. His horses were superlative.
    The Duke himself was resplendent in a morning-coat which fitted him like a glove and his striped trousers were in the very latest vogue.
    His top-hat which sat on the side of his dark hair had the curled brim which Locke had decreed as the de rn ier-cri and yet everything about him seemed to have that degree of casualness which only a well-bred Englishman could impart to his clothes.
    An ancient Butler escorted the Duke up the twisting staircase to the first floor where the Earl was waiting for him in the Drawing-Room.
    It had been the subject of another long controversy as to whether it would be more correct for the Earl to be waiting in the small, rather stuffy Study at the back of the house where he habitually sat.
    But the Countess had decided it was not impressive enough and the chairs were so shabby that the Duke could not help noticing them.
    The Drawing-Room, however, decorated with fresh flow ers, was quite a pleasant room, despite the fact that there was a slight stiffness about it as it was usually kept for Receptions or other occasions when the Countess entertained formally.
    “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” the Earl said with a bluff heartiness. “I am delighted to meet you. I knew your father, but unfortunately I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance since you were a boy.”
    Try as he would he could not help a slight resentment creeping into the tone of his voice.
    “It has been most remiss of me not to have invited you to Doncaster Park,” the Duke replied. “But as you must know, I am seldom in residence,