06. Stars in the Sky - The Pink Collection , livre ebook

STARS IN THE SKY
In the drawing room he insisted Sylvia sit on the sofa beside him. He sat with his arm across the back of the sofa behind Sylvia. She was aware of his hand brushing against her shoulder. With sinking heart Sylvia saw that the clock in this room now said half past ten.
She knew she must bow to the inevitable and remain at Endecott for the night. She therefore broached the subject of the fire in her room with the Count. Would he please order Polly to light it?
“What, is my little chicken cold then?” The Count’s words were slurred.
At this moment Polly came in with the coffee. Sylvia glanced at her before answering the Count.
“I find the red room cold, yes. It will be especially so by now.”
Polly smirked as she leaned down to place the coffee before them. “You won’t have no need of a fire, miss. Not with his lordship there.”
Sylvia gasped in shock. The Count however merely threw his head back and laughed.
“That’s enough now, Polly, you naughty girl!”
Polly glanced triumphantly at Sylvia and went out.
STARS IN THE SKY
BARBARA CARTLAND

Barbaracartland.com Ltd
Copyright © 2005 by Cartland Promotions
First published on the internet in 2005 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.
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The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection
Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.
She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.
Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.
Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.
The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.
The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.
The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.

If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :
Barbara Cartland.com Ltd.
240 High Road,
Harrow Weald,
Harrow HA3 7BB United Kingdom.
Telephone & fax: +44 (0)20 8863 2520

Titles in this series

1. The Cross of Love
2. Love in the Highlands
3. Love Finds the Way
4. The Castle of Love
5. Love is Triumphant
6. Stars in the Sky
THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND
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.

"To look at the stars in the sky at night is always exciting and romantic wherever your are in our world."
Barbara Cartland
CHAPTER ONE - 1878
It was after ten o’clock in the evening, but carriages were still rolling up to the imposing house on Park Lane that was the residence of Lady Lambourne. As the front door opened to admit various tardy guests, strains of the latest fashionable waltz escaped into the crisp night air.
Lady Lambourne’s annual masked ball was famous and everyone of consequence in London hoped for an invitation.
The ballroom inside was crowded. Tiaras sparkled under glowing chandeliers. Couples whirled elegantly about the dance floor, creating a mêlée of colours. The muslin drapes at the French windows billowed gently, ushering in a welcome breeze.
Sylvia, daughter of the Duke of Belham, had danced until she was dizzy. She was hoping to sit out the next waltz but here was yet another gentleman reminding her that his name was on her card. She rose with as much grace as she could muster.
If she sat out too many dances she knew her two sisters or her step-mother, the Duchess of Belham, would swoop on her with outraged cries. Her sisters, Edith and Charlotte, had both managed to secure husbands at the last ball. Now it was to be Sylvia’s turn. The last thing Sylvia wished for, however, was a society husband.
Since her father, the Duke of Belham, had remarried some eight years ago, the family had lived in London. The new Duchess of Belham wished it that way. She had no desire to bury herself and her handsome step-daughters deep in the country, at the family seat of Castle Belham.
“Why, I’d simply die with all that silence!” she would cry when the Duke tried to coax her into spending a summer at the castle. “And when it isn’t silent the noise is simply barbarous – cows and cockerels and dogs – and foxes howling in the woods. My darling husband, if you love me, you’ll never ask me to disappear into the wilds like that.”
The Duke would fall silent, for he did love the Duchess and he was grateful that she was such a conscientious step-mother. As he did not relish spending the summers alone, he remained with his family in London or on the Riviera, where the Duchess insisted they keep a seafront residence. It was on the Riviera that he had discovered the pleasures of the casinos.
His elder daughters Edith and Charlotte were delighted with their existence. They shared with their step-mother a love of town gossip, expensive hats, tea parties and balls.
Sylvia, however, longed for the country life. She greatly missed Castle Belham, where she had lived until the age of ten.
She remembered frosty mornings when she had run out to help the housemaid search for eggs. She remembered the bleating of lambs in the spring. She remembered lazy summer days when she sat in the boat-house, dangling her feet in the river. Days when the smell of new mown hay filled the air. She remembered most of all riding out with her father early in the morning, when the dew still glittered on the grass.
She and her father shared a passion for the country and for ancient Castle Belham.
Sometimes in London they rode out in Rotten Row, but it was not the same. There were too many other riders and one was rarely allowed to gallop.
Sylvia flinched as her latest partner dug his fingers into her waist. She stared resolutely over his shoulder as they slowly circled the floor. Oh, she was bored, bored with all this! Her satin shoes pinched her feet and her mask pinched her nose. She had danced with so many dull men who only wanted to indulge in light banter. Surely there was someone here, who had something to talk about other than Ascot or the latest singing sensation at Covent Garden!
At last the dance ended and Sylvia was led back to her seat. She sank gratefully onto the red velvet chaise and surreptitiously eased her