The House of Happiness by Barbara Cartland Page A

Dovedale’s eyes glimmered. “Ah! And did you find the Marquis – congenial?”
    Eugenia unwound the towel from her head and shook her hair free before answering. “He was the perfect gentleman, Mama.”
    â€œI see.” Mrs. Dovedale looked disappointed. Then her expression brightened as she brought out a letter from beneath her pillow.  “A missive from Great-Aunt Cloris, my dear, received this morning.  I do believe she is beginning to miss us.”
    Eugenia sat down at the dressing table and took up a brush. “What does she write, Mama?”
    â€œPrimarily, that her portrait is nearly completed.”
    The brush halted in mid-air.  
    â€œSo – Gregor will be moving on?” Eugenia asked. She tried to sound nonchalant but her voice trembled a little.
    â€œI suppose he will be,” remarked Mrs. Dovedale, “once he has put the finishing touches to the painting.”
    There was a knock at the door and, at Mrs. Dovedale’s invitation, the Marquis entered. He was dressed for travelling, which excited her interest. The Marquis explained that he was suddenly obliged to leave for London that very day.  He had called in to say farewell.
    Mrs. Dovedale noted with satisfaction that his eyes repeatedly strayed to where Eugenia sat at the dressing table. Her pleasure altered, however, when she saw that Eugenia had not turned to greet the Marquis, but was toying with the hairbrush, as if in a trance
    â€œEugenia!” she said sharply.  “The Marquis has only been here two days and already he is deserting us again for the delights of London. What say you to that?”
    Eugenia gave a start. “I – hope the delights are as – delightful as the Marquis – expects,” she intoned lamely. 
    â€œYour mother jests, Miss Dovedale,” claimed the Marquis, his tone neutral. “The truth is, that I have – unexpected business to attend to.”
    Aware of her mother’s eagle eye upon her, Eugenia felt she should rally herself for a more elegant reply than her last effort.  “You will be missed at Buckbury Abbey, I think,” she said.
    A slight shadow crossed the Marquis’s face, but his reply when it came was almost jocular in tone.
    â€œAh, Miss Dovedale! The qualification of I think rather precludes you from being one of that sentimental number who might indeed miss me.”
    Eugenia was silent, puzzled that the Marquis’s mood seemed to have altered once again in her favour, but Mrs. Dovedale plunged anxiously in.
    â€œOh, my Lord, we will both miss you, you can be sure. I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality.”
    The Marquis gave a bow.  “You find life at Buckbury to your taste?”
    â€œOh, yes , my Lord. It is quite like coming home. We want for nothing.”
    â€œI am so pleased to hear it. Now, if there is any errand you wish to entrust to me whilst I am in London, please consider me at your service. A visit to your aunt, perhaps?”
    Mrs. Dovedale clapped her hands. “That would be capital! She will soon be at such a loose end in that empty house.”
    The Marquis raised an eyebrow.  “Soon?”
    â€œShe writes that her portrait is nearly completed. She will no longer have the distraction of Gregor and I fear that she has become rather accustomed to his company.”
    The Marquis’s eyes rested a second on Eugenia before he replied.
    â€œThen why not invite Mrs. Dewitt here, to Buckbury? I will order a suite prepared for her.”
    â€œYou are too, too kind, my Lord!  I was only saying to Eugenia that I was beginning to miss my aunt, despite her eccentricities.”
    The Marquis made his excuses and departed, bound for London. No sooner had the door closed behind him than Mrs. Dovedale began to berate Eugenia for what she perceived as her daughter’s ill-conduct. 
    â€œYou behaved as if you harboured no interest in the Marquis