The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) by Barbara Cartland Page B

Comte stood looking around as if he was adjusting his eyes from the brilliant lights of the Ball-Room to the darkness which was only relieved by the golden glow of the Chinese lanterns.
    “I am sure they are not here,” Antonia said hastily. “Let us look in the Supper-Room.”
    The Comte did not answer her but kept his hand firmly on her arm, pulling her forward and moving her towards the right.
    Bordering the lawn there was the first of the arbours screened by ferns or potted-plants where they were not naturally enveloped with climbing roses or flowering creepers.
    Still dragging Antonia with him he went up to the first arbour, disturbing a couple who were kissing each other passionately, and looked round with a startled expression on their faces.
    “ Pardon, Monsieur, Pardon, Madame ,” the Comte muttered and moved towards the next arbour.
    Antonia stood still.
    “Stop!” she said. “You cannot do this! I do not know what you suspect but whatever it is, it is quite unfounded. My husband and I are here on our honeymoon. We have only just arrived. I think he will be looking for me in the Ball - Room.”
    “You will find your husband, Madame, when we find my wife!” the Comte replied.
    He drew Antonia on again and she knew that unless she made a scene she could do nothing but go with him.
    He was very strong and his fingers seemed to dig into the softness of her arm.
    There was a grim determination about him which she found terrifying and which made her feel at the same time weak and helpless.
    They visited no less than four arbours and interrupted the couples in them in an embarrassing manner which made Antonia hope that while she could see their faces in the light from the lanterns hanging on the trees, they could not see hers.
    Then just as they approached the fifth arbour she heard the Duke’s voice.
    She could not hear what he said but there was no mistaking his deep resonant tone.
    Because she was afraid that he might be embracing the Comtesse or indulging in any of the small intimacies they had seen when interrupting the other couples, she called out:
    “Athol! Athol! Where are you?”
    She knew her cry annoyed the Comte and he looked at her angrily.
    Then he moved her forward quickly, still clasping her arm. In the arbour the Duke and the Comtesse were sitting beside each other on the cushioned seat.
    There was nothing to show they had been doing anything intimate but even if they had, Antonia thought with satisfaction, they would have had time to move apart when she had called out to the Duke.
    When they saw the Comte it seemed to Antonia as if, for a moment, both the Duke and the Comtesse were carved in stone.
    Then the Comtesse gave a little cry.
    “Jacques, what an enchanting surprise!” she exclaimed. “I was not expecting you to join me.”
    “That is obvious!” the Comte replied and his eyes were on the Duke.
    “Good evening, Rezonville,” the Duke said calmly. “I have only just learnt that you have returned to Paris.”
    “I warned you when you were here last to keep away from my wife!” the Comte said aggressively.
    “My dear fellow,” the Duke said, “your wife was just congratulating me, as I hope you will, on my marriage.”
    “My congratulations are best expressed like this!’ the Comte replied.
    He was wearing only one glove and he held the other in his right hand.
    Now he raised it and slapped the Duke across the face.
    The Comtesse gave a shrill cry while Antonia felt as if the breath had been squeezed out of her body.
    “I consider that an insult!” the Duke said quietly.
    “That is what it is meant to be!” the Comte retorted.
    “My seconds will wait on you!”
    “I have no intention of waiting,” the Comte replied. “We will fight at dawn.”
    “Certainly!” the Duke replied.
    He moved past the Comte and offered his arm to Antonia.
    “I think it is time we said farewell to our hostess,” he said in a quiet, level voice that was quite expressionless.
    Antonia