Free Bewitched (Bantam Series No. 16) by Barbara Cartland Page A

opened my eyes to a whole new world I did not know existed.”
    “I have always been a great admirer of the Gypsies,” Charles Collington said. “When we were fighting in Portugal, the Ciganos, as they were called, were extremely useful. They could move between the two Armies without fear. They were neither friend nor foe, and in consequence they carried messages and spied for both sides!”
    “Now that I think about it, I believe you are right!” the Marquis said. “I never paid much attention to the Portuguese Gypsies myself.”
    “Gypsies do not wish you to pay them attention,” Saviya said with a smile. “What they would like most would be to be invisible. To come and go with no-one troubling about them.”
    “Well, I am very glad that you are not invisible!” Charles Collington said with a look of frank admiration in his eyes. “No wonder His Lordship is in no hurry to return to London. Having seen you, I find it a most compelling reason for preferring the country!”
    “I expect you would like a drink, if you have ridden here from London,” the Marquis interposed. “How long did it take you?”
    “An hour and thirty-five minutes,” Charles Collington replied. “It is not a record, but I did not hurry myself. My horses are not as good as yours, Fabius.”
    “It usually takes me an hour and fifteen minutes,” the Marquis said. “That is, across country. It takes longer by road.”
    “I do not mind how long it has taken. I am delighted to be here,” Charles Collington said, his eyes on Saviya.
    The Marquis noticed that she drew a little away from him, as if she felt he was encroaching upon her.
    When they went downstairs for Charles Collington to have a glass of wine after his ride, it was to find tea had been laid in the Salon.
    They sampled a few of the vast selection of sandwiches, cakes and small delicacies for which the Chef at Ruckley House was famous.
    As they ate and Charles Collington described in graphic detail a Ball he had attended the night before, he said to the Marquis:
    “By the way, Sir Algernon was there and sneering because none of us had yet attempted to win his wager of the thousand guineas.”
    “A thousand guineas for a wager?” Saviya exclaimed. “What a huge sum!”
    “It is nothing compared to what some fools lose gaming,” Charles Collington replied. “Over twenty thousand pounds changed hands last night at White’s alone. Needless to say, none of it came my way!”
    “You are poor?” Saviya asked sympathetically.
    “Absolutely starving!” Charles Collington replied.
    The Marquis laughed.
    “Do not believe him, Saviya. He is quite warm in the pocket, but he is extravagant, like all the gay young men who frequent the gambling Clubs of St. James’s.”
    “Gypsies like to gamble,” Saviya said, “but it is usually on cockfights or sport of some sort.”
    “And very much more sensible,” Charles Collington approved. “When you come to think of it, it is exceedingly silly to throw away money on the turn of a card. No-one ever ends up a winner.”
    “That is true,” the Marquis agreed.
    “All the same,” Charles Collington said, “I should like to confound Sir Algernon with his own words. He is so certain that he is infallible that it irritates me.”
    He paused before he said slowly:
    “Do you suppose that Gibbon would ever think that Miss Saviya was a Gypsy?”
    “It is something I am sure I would never have thought of myself,” the Marquis said, “except for the fact that she was dressed like one.”
    “If she were gowned like a Lady of Quality,” Charles Collington cried, “I am convinced that Gibbon would never suspect for a moment that she was anything else.”
    “It is certainly an idea,” the Marquis replied.
    “What are you talking about?” Saviya enquired in a bewildered voice.
    They told her the details of Sir Algernon’s bet and she laughed. “He must be very sure that you have no chance of winning, for him to wager so much