Free The Cross of Love by Barbara Cartland Page B

Architects, craftsmen, the best that money can buy. The expense will be no object to me."
    "But that might not be the ideal way to restore this place."
    "What the devil do you mean by that? Of course it's the ideal way. Spending money is always the way. There isn't another."
    "That depends on what you're trying to achieve," the Earl said quietly.
    "But we've already agreed what we're trying to achieve," Wyngate said impatiently. "To put the Earl of Lansdale in the setting he ought to have, the setting his ancestors had. Fine lands, a fine house. You'll need a town house as well but that can come later."
    "Excuse me," the Earl interrupted him, "that may be your object, but it isn't mine. I can't just think about myself. If this estate can be made to flourish it can bring prosperity to the neighbourhood, give employment to the local craftsmen and traders."
    "Good grief, man! What do you want to worry about them for? A man must think about himself."
    "But not only himself," the Earl said quietly.
    There was a sudden firmness in his voice that alerted Wyngate to the fact that his tactics were at fault. He wasn't a sensitive or subtle man but he was a shrewd one where his own wishes were concerned, and the Earl's words had shed a new light across his path.
    "Of course not," he barked now. "A man should share his good fortune with others less fortunate. Noblesse oblige! Very proper. Of course you know your duty to the neighbourhood. But your people will benefit from what I propose. My men will come in and decide what needs to be done, and then employ the locals to do it.
    "They'll need to buy provisions from local shops. Some of them will stay at the nearest hotel. They'll spend money, and that's what it's all about after all. Well, that's settled. I'm glad we understand each other."
    "You're rushing ahead of me - "
    "When you've had a good idea, get to work without delay. That's my motto."
    Two shadows darkened the French windows, and Rena came in, followed by Matilda.
    "So there you both are," Wyngate cried with a ghastly attempt at geniality that set everyone's teeth on edge. "We were just making our plans. My people will start work on this house next week."
    There was a stunned silence from the others. It was broken by the last sound anybody was expecting.
    A titter.
    A stupid, bird-brained, idiotic titter.
    It had come from Rena.
    The Earl stared at her. The sheer inanity of the sound, coming from her, took him aback.
    "Oh, dear me," she said, covering her mouth with her fingers, and tittering again. "Oh My Lord, how honoured I am to be the first to hear your delightful news. My goodness me, such a proud day for the family."
    "Honoured?" he stared at her.
    "To be the first to hear of your nuptials. Oh, I declare! Oh my, oh my!"
    He wondered if she had taken leave of her senses.
    "You are mistaken, Mrs. Colwell," the Earl said formally. "It is far too early to speak of nuptials. Miss Wyngate and I - " he bowed in Matilda's direction, "are merely going to get to know each other."
    "Naturally that will happen before any announcement," Rena giggled, contriving to sound totally witless. "But there can be no doubt that there will be an announcement."
    "Indeed?" John said frostily.
    "Why yes, indeed. If a gentleman like Mr. Wyngate intends to start work which - forgive me - he knows you cannot pay for - then he is certainly doing so for his daughter's husband. Who else would he be doing it for? "What I mean is that should the wedding - by some accident - not take place, he could send you a bill for the whole cost of the repairs, could he not? Or perhaps a suit for breach of promise of marriage?"
    Her eyes were wide and suspiciously innocent, fixed on his face.
    "And so you see, once the workmen have arrived, it's all settled, isn't it?" she asked, tittering again. "I mean, there would be no going back. Even if you wanted to. Which of course, you wouldn't. But if you did - you couldn't - because of the witnesses, d'you see? Oh dear,