An Introduction to the Pink Collection by Barbara Cartland Page A

on the carpet together, because he had thought she was the ghost. She couldn’t banish from her consciousness the feeling of John’s hard body against hers, the power she had sensed in him. Matilda was right. It had been thrilling.
    But that had been an accident, nothing to do with love. And yet…..
    â€œI hope you find a way to be with the man you love,” she said, meaning it.
    For a moment Matilda’s brave mood seemed to fall away and she sighed. “If he ever knew I was in love with Cecil or that Cecil loved me, he would find some way of either getting him out of the country or perhaps even killing him. Papa has always got what he wanted, and sometimes I think he always will.”
    â€œI can imagine. You will have to be very, very clever.”
    The impish smile returned to Matilda’s face. “But of course I’m clever. I’m not Jeremiah Wyngate’s daughter for nothing.”
    *
    â€œNow listen here, Lansdale, if you refuse my suggestion you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. You’ve got to learn to seize your chances, and take what you want in life.
    It’s insane to turn down a good offer when it is made to you.”
    â€œYou are very kind, but – ”
    â€œNever mind all that. I’m offering you an excellent bargain. You’ll get your house restored to perfect order, everything that money can buy. What more could you want?”
    â€œA wife I loved, and who loved me?” the Earl suggested lightly.
    â€œSentimental nonsense! Besides, my daughter has always found you very attractive. She confided as much to me after your last meeting.”
    â€œAs I recall I talked mostly about my ship. I think she was thoroughly bored.”
    â€œWell, of course she didn’t show her feelings. Girls don’t. But I knew. Now it’s time for action.”
    â€œYou’re going much too fast,” John said. “Even if I can believe that your daughter had any feelings for me at that ball, it was some time back. She may have other ideas now. Women like to choose their own husbands, not to have them chosen for them!”
    â€œMy daughter is different,” Mr Wyngate replied. “She does what I want and she knows which side her bread is buttered!”
    The Earl winced at the brutality of this utterance.
    â€œYou won’t know this place when my men have finished with it,” Wyngate said.
    â€œYour men?”
    â€œThe men I shall employ to bring it back to its best. Architects, craftsmen, the best that money can buy. The expense will be no object to me.”
    â€œBut that might not be the ideal way to restore this place.”
    â€œWhat the devil do you mean by that? Of course it’s the ideal way. Spending money is always the way. There isn’t another.”
    â€œThat depends on what you’re trying to achieve,” the Earl said quietly.
    â€œBut 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.”
    â€œExcuse 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.”
    â€œGood grief, man! What do you want to worry about them for? A man must think about himself.”
    â€œBut 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.
    â€œOf course not,” he barked now. “A man should