Love at the Tower

BARBARA CARTLAND

www.barbaracartland.com

Copyright © 2009 by Cartland Promotions

First published on the internet in March 2009 by Barbaracartland.com

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

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They both laughed and Robina caught something in his eyes that told her he had more to say.

“But that is not the reason I have asked you here,” the Earl added.

Robina stayed silent, although inside her thoughts were far from still.

She felt nervous and uneasy.

“Robina,” the Earl continued slowly, enfolding her hands with his hands. “I have been thinking of nothing but you for these past few days and I must tell you that I am utterly in love with you.

“That appalling business with Ellis has only served to compound what I was already feeling. If I am honest, I have loved you since we were children together and I am not a man to hold back when I have made my mind up, so I would be honoured if you will agree to be my wife.”

Robina stood there with the wind blowing through her hair and the Earl holding onto her hands.

She looked into eyes that were so full of love that she could scarcely meet his gaze and did not know how to answer him.

“Please, Robina, what do you say to me?” he asked, pleadingly, his blue eyes willing her to open up her heart to him.

A heart that at that very moment was wracked with confusion and astonishment.

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Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world's most famous romantic novelists.  With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.

Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw' at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller.  Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years.  In addition to Barbara Cartland's legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA.  In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.

Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance', Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery.  Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.

In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.

Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime.  Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values.  But above all, it was Barbara Cartland's overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.

“Love is the same for everybody – it is sublime, ethereal and heavenly – whether you live in a castle or a cottage.”

Barbara Cartland

Robina Melville stared out of the carriage window and sighed. The sun was setting over the green countryside as she sped towards her Surrey home in Lucksham.

Seated beside her was Nanny – an elderly lady who had brought up her mother as well as Robina.

But Robina's mother was no longer with her. She had died the previous year and so distraught was her father that he had sent Robina to stay with friends in France.

“It is for the best, Robina, my dear,” he had said to her on the day he had called her into the library at the rear of the huge rambling building that was Trentham House.

How she had shed copious tears as he had sat there at his desk, almost impassively telling her that he wished to be alone and that he had written to his friends in Paris, the Lamonts, asking them to take Robina in as a guest.

“But I don't want to go to France – my place is here with you,” she had protested with even more tears running down her lovely face.

At the age of twenty-one, she had known so much sorrow, far too much for one so young.

Her beloved Mama's long illness had taken its toll on everyone concerned.

At first the doctors had said it was merely a chill in her stomach that had made her double up in agony one day whilst playing tennis. But then a swelling in her stomach grew and it became apparent to everyone that this was not a chill at all.

Robina's father had sent for a specialist doctor from Switzerland and for a short time her mother had seemed to rally round and improve.

But despite massive doctor's bills and a medicine chest that groaned with pills and potions, herb tinctures and poultices, she grew worse.

Robina could recall the day that she collapsed and retired to bed, never to get up again.

It had been a fine June afternoon and a garden party was being held in the gardens of Trentham House.

“You must put on your best dress today,” Nanny had said to her, “your Mama will surely want you to look as attractive as possible for her guests.”

Robina proudly admired the white lawn dress with lovely Nottingham lace on the bodice and cuffs. She had travelled all the way up to London to have it made at her Mama's dressmakers, which had been such an exciting treat.

Pulling on the gown, she wondered what cook had in store for them. She was famous throughout the County for her cakes and pastries.

“Do you think that there will be any young people of my own age present?” she had asked Nanny, who was busily putting Robina's hair up into an elegant French knot before carefully pinning her new summer hat on top.

“I would think so, dear,” Nanny had answered through a mouthful of pins. “After all it's a very special occasion.”

“I just hope that Mama is feeling better today, she did look terribly pale at dinner last night.”

“She will be as right as rain, Robina – you must not worry so about her. This doctor from Switzerland seems to have worked miracles.”

“But she hardly ate anything at dinner – ” sighed Robina, unable to stop herself admiring her reflection in the mirror despite her concern.

“Your Mama has never had a large appetite, which is why she still boasts the same slender waist she had as a girl. Now, come along, Robina, your Mama and Papa will want you downstairs to greet their guests as they arrive.”

Robina ran downstairs and saw that their footman was already showing people into the garden.

Walking past a rose-covered arch, she noticed that her mother was chatting to a large group of people.

‘How pale she looks,' she thought to herself.

As she approached, her mother turned and smiled.

“Darling, do come and join us – Lord Hampton was just telling us about his son Robert's exploits in India.”

The old man's face lit up as Robina walked across the lawn towards them.

“Robina, my dear, how lovely you look,” he said, and almost immediately began to cough.

Lady Melville signalled to Newman to bring a glass of water. The Earl was bright red in the face as he gulped it down.