The Keys of Love by Barbara Cartland Page B

shovelled it in too! I’m sure the Duke was shocked, but he didn’t show it.”
    â€œHmn,” mumbled Kitty as she looked at Henrietta more closely. “Honey, are you feeling ill? Do you need food? You don’t look too great.”
    Henrietta, pale, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, shook her head.
    â€œI’m not hungry and I’m not ill. I’m just tired.”
    She was praying for her visitors to go.
    Kitty slid off the window seat.
    â€œOh, ho, I can take a hint,” she whistled at Eddie. “Come on. We gotta let Harrietta here get her beauty sleep for tomorrow.”
    Henrietta waited until their voices faded along the corridor. Then she turned down the wick of her bedside lamp and slipped under the covers.
    She longed for sleep and the ending of her troubled thoughts, but sleep did not come. She tossed and turned, imagining herself half naked under the Duke’s gaze.
    For that was just how she must have looked on the stairs half naked!
    Ha ha ha harlot, ha ha ha harlot.
    Even the owl outside seemed to be taunting her.
    The moon rose, an icy face in the dark heavens.
    Henrietta at last slept, a crease on her brow.
    *
    When she awoke, it was to the sound of a horse stepping carefully over cobbles.
    The room was light and a bird chirped on the sill.
    She climbed out of bed and crossed to the window.
    A chestnut mare stood saddled in the courtyard.
    She pressed her forehead against the glass, staring. Was this the horse the groom had promised her?
    After a moment, she turned and dressed quietly and tiptoed into the next room to find Nanny awake but in poor humour, suffering the effects of more wine than her wont.
    The courtyard was silent and empty.
    The mare turned her head at Henrietta’s approach. She took the reins and then softly stroked the mare’s nose.
    â€œDo I have you all to myself?” she marvelled.
    â€œNot quite,” came a voice from behind.
    It was Joe, his hat jammed low on his head and his face swathed in a great scarf against the frosty dawn.
    â€œI hope you do not mind if I accompany you on the ride, Miss Reed?”
    â€œI would be delighted,” rejoined Henrietta. “To tell you the truth, I was feeling nervous at the idea of setting out alone, for I am not acquainted with the terrain.”
    Joe stepped forward to help her into the saddle, but held back when she was determined to mount by herself.
    He looked rather startled as she settled herself with legs akimbo, her skirt trailing on either side of the mare.
    Henrietta noticed his gaze and flushed.
    She had forgotten the English customs of riding. In Texas she had ridden bareback, skirt hiked up into her belt.
    â€œThis is how I rode in Texas,” she explained.
    How very glad she was that the Duke was not there to see her once again behaving in a questionable manner!
    Joe bowed his head, seeming amused, and mounted Gawain.
    With a clatter of hooves, they set out.
    Once free of the house and garden Joe set his horse to gallop and the chestnut mare took up the pace eagerly.
    She felt the wind tug at her veil and skirts. For the first time since yesterday afternoon her heart lightened.
    After a good mile or so they drew up at the edge of a sparkling stream and the horses bent their heads to drink.
    Joe eyed Henrietta from under the brim of his hat.
    â€œYou did not accept the Duke’s invitation to tea yesterday,” he queried.
    â€œHow do you know?” she asked, astonished
    â€œA country house is like an echo chamber. You hear everything in the end.”
    â€œOh,” she murmured, reddening as she wondered if Joe had also heard the story of her unhooked dress.
    â€œWell you see it turned out that the invitation wasn’t for me at all. It was for that other lady the Duke was expecting Miss Foss.”
    Joe leaned down to pat his horse’s neck.
    â€œMiss Foss, was it? How was that discovered in time?”
    â€œLady Butterclere told me. D-did the