A Dream Come True by Barbara Cartland Page A

tidy.
    â€œAh, Lucia. I have a rather urgent missive from my Solicitor that I would ask you to reply to. It came a few hours ago. Are you able to take dictation?”
    â€œOf course, I excelled in stenography,” replied Lucia taking up pencil and pad.
    Lord Winterton fiddled with his waistcoat buttons as he dictated the letter. It appeared that he was in the process of buying some land at the edge of his estate.
    Lucia bowed her head and tried not to stare as his powerful fingers caressed the buttons – the same fingers that had no doubt just caressed Lady Shelley’s face.
    The image of him trailing his hands against Lady Shelley’s white throat would not leave Lucia’s mind and she was shocked at herself.
    And even more she actively wondered what it might feel like to have him caress her own skin in such a way.
    â€˜It is his bad influence in this bad house that is causing me to have such thoughts,’ she said to herself, as he walked around the room, pausing to think of his next sentence.
    At five o’clock on the dot, Lord Winterton lost all interest in dictation and announced that the working day was now over.
    â€œI will ring for Jepson and ask him to show you upstairs. I am certain that you are eager to see your room. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall see you at dinner. Do not worry – we shall not be interrupted by any more uninvited visitors.”
    He almost winked as he referred to Lady Shelley and Lucia was horrified. Blushing she lowered her gaze and mumbled that she would see him later.
    Lord Winterton sharply tugged on the bell before leaving the room with his hands in his pockets and whistling to himself.
    Jepson came into the room and Lucia asked to be shown to her room.
    â€œCome with me, Miss Mountford. His Lordship has arranged everything and hopes it will be to your satisfaction.”
    Lucia followed him up the ornate staircase with its highly polished handrail and felt the plush carpet give beneath her feet.
    Everything about Longfield Manor spoke of luxury and money. She looked up at paintings of hunts and wondered if Lord Winterton found time to ride to hounds.
    â€˜It would seem as if his ancestors loved the sport, even if he does not,’ she thought, eyeing one study of an elegant uniformed gentleman on horseback, who bore more than a passing resemblance to Lord Winterton.
    â€œIn here, Miss Mountford,” intoned Jepson, as he opened a door for her.
    As Lucia walked in, a pleasant-looking girl with jet-black hair and pale skin bobbed a curtsy.
    â€œGood afternoon, mademoiselle,” she said in a pronounced French accent.
    Lucia’s eyes lit up.
    â€œ Vous êtes française ?” she asked, fluently and with confidence.
    â€œ Mais, oui, mademoiselle. Et vous parlez bien le français .”
    Jepson looked astonished and coughed nervously.
    â€œI can see that Antoinette will look after you very well,” he said. “I will leave you in her capable hands.”
    Lucia asked where she came from and was delighted when she told her Paris.
    Very soon they were chatting away like old friends. Antoinette showed her around the room. It was large and beautifully decorated in the French style and had huge windows overlooking the garden.
    Lucia ran forward and cried aloud with joy,
    â€œA white peacock!”
    â€œYes, ’is Lordship is very proud of it,” answered Antoinette, who had already finished unpacking Lucia’s trunks. “It was shipped over from the Far East.”
    â€œI have never seen a white one before,” she commented, watching it lope across the lawns. “It’s so beautiful.”
    â€œI have run a bath for you, miss. In there, if you please to look.”
    Lucia walked over to a door that was slightly ajar. The room was full of scented steam and there were fine soaps on the basin and a pile of white towels by the bath. Everything was the height of luxury and very modern.
    â€œI am so