Free The Marquis Is Trapped by Barbara Cartland Page B

hostess.
    “I think you are very clever,” Lady Benson said to the Marquis a little later in the evening.  “And you excel at everything you undertake.”
    “I try to and, as you will appreciate, there is a great deal to learn now that I am at Oxford.”
    “I am sure that you will soon learn what is most important in life, Oliver.”
    He was about to ask her what that was, when someone came up to Lady Benson to say goodnight.
    “I am afraid we have to leave.”
    “Oh, must you, General?”
    “I am not as young as I was,” he answered, “and as I have to read the lesson in Church tomorrow, I must have a good night’s sleep or I will stumble over the words.”
    “I am sure you would never do that!” Lady Benson assured him.
    Whilst she was occupied talking to the General, the Marquis had another quick look round for the girl who danced so well.
    He was irritated to observe that once again she was dancing with Peter and he was just about to select another partner when Lady Benson put her hand on his arm.
    “I am longing for a glass of champagne, Oliver, and I am sure you would enjoy one too.  Let us go to the buffet in the room next door.”
    There was nothing the Marquis could do but agree and he had to admit that the champagne was excellent.
    Lady Benson insisted on him having a second glass.
    They did not go back into the ballroom until they heard the band playing ‘ God Save the Queen’ .
    “My husband thought it was a mistake for us to go on dancing when it was Sunday,” Lady Benson explained when the Marquis looked somewhat surprised.  “I told him he was being rather old-fashioned, but he did not want to offend the Bishop who was dining here tonight.”
    The Marquis had not noticed the Bishop earlier, but he could well understand Sir Gerald’s reasoning.
    The local guests started to say goodnight, but they all took a long time to depart and it was almost one o’clock before the house party retired to bed.
    The Marquis looked for his hostess and found her closing the doors of the conservatory.
    “Please help me,” she asked.  “The flowers are very precious and the cold night air is not good for them.”
    The Marquis helped her close the doors and when they had finished, he realised that most of the rest of the party had gone upstairs.
    “Goodnight,” he said to Lady Benson, “and thank you very much for a delightful evening.”
    “You were the real hero of the hour and the greatest success,” she replied to him softly.  “But although you are an expert in so many things, there is one that I do think you are rather ignorant about.”
    The Marquis felt surprised.
    “What is it?” he enquired.
    She looked up at him and placed her hand on his shoulder.
    “It is love ,” she whispered.
    The way she spoke and the way she looked made him draw in his breath.
    Then, before he could respond, he heard Sir Gerald call out,
    “Moira, where are you?”
    Lady Benson turned towards him and then looked back at the Marquis.
    “I will finish what I was saying,” she murmured, “a little later on and that will complete what has been a very wonderful day.”
    Before the Marquis could say anything, she slipped away from him and ran back towards her husband.
    The Marquis stood still gazing after Lady Benson feeling bewildered.
    Could she possibly have meant what she said?
    He could not believe it and yet the expression in her eyes had been very revealing.
    At this stage in his life the Marquis had in fact had nothing to do with any woman.
    There were a number of girls living near his home, who had come to the parties when he was a child and they turned up on special occasions, such as Christmas and Guy Fawkes Day.
    But he had never thought that there was anything particular about them, nor was he, at this moment, friends with any girl unless she was a good rider.
    Some of his contemporaries at Oxford had talked to him about their success with women, but he had not been interested as there was so much