Love Under Fire (eBook)

Barbara Cartland (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018 | 1. Auflage
298 Seiten
Barbara Cartland eBooks Ltd (Verlag)
978-1-78867-059-3 (ISBN)

Infos

Waif-like beauty Elvina is tiny and immature after years of malnourishment and indeed she looks far younger than her seventeen years. Weak, however, she is not. Hardened by years of beatings and abuse at the hands of her half-crazed Portuguese stepmother and sickened by her father's constant drunken behaviour, Elvina is determined to escape Lisbon and flee to her native England. Despite the dangers of the Napoleonic War, which is raging in Spain and Portugal, she dyes her skin to make herself look Portuguese and stows away aboard the yacht of the handsome and heroic Lord Wye, bound for London with urgent dispatches from the Duke of Wellington to the Prime Minister. When she is discovered on board, the kindly Lord Wye believes her story that she is a thirteen-year-old fleeing the War to join her English sister and takes pity on her. He agrees that he will take her to England in his yacht, but first he must call in to Spain for more intelligence to show the Prime Minister and the weather suddenly becomes increasing tempestuous. And amid a terrible storm at sea and captured by the French only to fight their way free, a deep friendship under fire is kindled between Elvina and Lord Wye and soon becomes an all-consuming love when they arrive back in England. And then other dangers to their love for each other begin to emerge.

Barbara Cartland was the world's most prolific novelist who wrote an amazing 723 books in her lifetime, of which no less than 644 were romantic novels with worldwide sales of over 1 billion copies and her books were translated into 36 different languages. As well as romantic novels, she wrote historical biographies, 6 autobiographies, theatrical plays and books of advice on life, love, vitamins and cookery. She wrote her first book at the age of 21 and it was called Jigsaw. It became an immediate bestseller and sold 100,000 copies in hardback in England and all over Europe in translation. Between the ages of 77 and 97 she increased her output and wrote an incredible 400 romances as the demand for her romances was so strong all over the world. She wrote her last book at the age of 97 and it was entitled perhaps prophetically The Way to Heaven. Her books have always been immensely popular in the United States where in 1976 her current books were at numbers 1 & 2 in the B. Dalton bestsellers list, a feat never achieved before or since by any author. Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime and will be best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels so loved by her millions of readers throughout the world, who have always collected her books to read again and again, especially when they feel miserable or depressed. Her books will always be treasured for their moral message, her pure and innocent heroines, her handsome and dashing heroes, her blissful happy endings and above all for her belief that the power of love is more important than anything else in everyone's life.

Textauszug

CHAPTER TWO

Lord Wye, looking surprisingly fresh considering that he had gone to bed at six o’clock in the morning and had less than an hour’s sleep, gave the order to cast off.

The Officials and members of the Ambassador’s household, who had also risen to bid him ‘farewell’, stood in a little group on the quay and saluted as the sailors dragged up the anchor and started to unfurl and set the sails.

Lord Wye noted that one of the aides-de-camp was yawning and another was still unsteady on his feet.

He wondered why they had all stayed so late at what in reality had been a very indifferent ball and then chided himself for being uncharitable.

A ball was an event in this war-stricken land and he, satiated with the glories of Carlton House and the Season in London, had no right to criticise.

He looked wistfully towards the hills overshadowing the town and wished that he had been able to defy the Prime Minister’s orders and join Wellington’s army, as he had begged to be allowed to do.

“No, Wye!” the Prime Minister had said firmly. “I wish you to deliver the letters that I entrust to your care to the Government of Portugal. Since Prince John sailed for Rio de Janeiro six years ago the Regency has changed hands continually and yet somehow the country keeps going and the Portuguese people have been stalwart and strong in the face of the French assaults. Wellington speaks highly of their soldiers, although he cannot trust them to take the initiative, but only to support our own troops.”

“Do you not think,” Lord Wye had suggested, “that it might be a good idea for me to have a word with the Duke of Wellington? He might wish to entrust me with communications for you that it would be difficult for him to put in his dispatches.”

“Wellington’s dispatches will be waiting for you at Lisbon,” the Prime Minister said firmly. “I wish you to come straight back. The Prince Regent will miss you sorely and you know how difficult he can be if he has not the right advisers at his side.”

The Prime Minister sighed and there was no need to say more. The Prince Regent was a continual problem.

Yet when, as occasionally happened, he took a fancy to someone who was acceptable to his Ministers, then a sigh of relief went up in Westminster that was echoed all over the Capital.

The question as to how long Lord Wye would last was the only damper on the general jubilation.

As far as the Prime Minister was concerned, he was not going to risk Lord Wye’s most Diplomatic handling of the Prince Regent by letting him remain abroad a moment longer than was necessary.

“If there was anyone else I could send, I would not employ your Lordship on this mission,” he said. “As it is, you are to proceed to Lisbon and come back here again with all possible speed. Do you think you are wise to use your own yacht? I would prefer to put a Warship at your disposal.”

“If you want speed, my yacht will outpace a Warship by a dozen knots,” Lord Wye replied, “besides being easier to take in and out of Harbour. What is more, the Admiralty are being hard pressed to provide enough troop ships. I think you would make me very unpopular, sir, if you insisted on providing a Warship for my use at this particular moment.”

“Very well then, go in your own yacht,” the Prime Minister conceded. “I understand you are taking Sir Horace Bowhill and his lady with you.”

“They have done me the honour to be my guests on the voyage,” Lord Wye replied.

“And being a very pretty woman Lady Bowhill will undoubtedly relieve the monotony of the days at sea, eh?”

The Prime Minister’s eyes twinkled.

An unattractive man himself, he always had a sneaking respect for good-looking buccaneers like Lord Wye, who swept every woman they met off their feet and about them there was always some spicy piece of scandal being tittered at in the Clubs and salons.

Had the Prime Minister but known it, Lady Bowhill had proved a disappointment.

Now, as his yacht began to move out into the open sea, Lord Wye thought with relief that on the homeward voyage he would be alone.

‘Women,’ he said to himself, ‘are all right so long as you can get away from them. They can be a damned nuisance in a confined space.’

He contemplated with satisfaction the emptiness of the cabin and settling himself on a comfortable high-backed chair, began to read with interest some of the papers that had been given him at Lisbon for conveyance to England.

They included an angry demand for more cavalry horses and a complaint that the last consignment of sugar had been mixed with sand.

Engrossed in what he was reading Lord Wye did not hear a knock on the door and looked up to find that the Captain of the yacht had entered the cabin and was standing opposite him waiting for his attention.

“Anything I can do for you, Captain?” Lord Wye enquired.

“I only came to warn you, my Lord, that the weather looks unpleasant. It’s likely to be very rough outside the Harbour, the wind appears to be getting up and the sky promises a storm.”

“Well, it was pretty rough in the Bay coming out,” Lord Wye replied. “I don’t know what has happened to the weather this year. One does not expect tempests at the beginning of July.”

“I agree with you, my Lord,” the Captain replied. “But remember the equinoctial gales last year. They strewed the Channel with wrecks and I even heard that the Thames rose so high that it flowed into Westminster Hall.”

“That was in October,” Lord Wye said. “But no matter. Your orders are to push ahead as quickly as you can, Captain, keeping on every inch of sail possible. The Prime Minister expects me back in England in the quickest possible time.”

“Very good, my Lord. But I warn you, if we run into one of these thunderstorms I have been hearing about in the town, it may be unpleasant. They say that they have had one or two of them lately, which sank several ships along the coast and on one occasion one of our troopships was so battered that they had to shoot a third of the horses.”

Lord Wye was not interested, he had returned to the papers he was reading.

“With all possible speed, Captain,” he said vaguely, his attention held by the letter he was reading.

“Very good, my Lord.”

There was nothing for the Captain to do but leave the cabin.

As he closed the door behind him, Lord Wye looked up, a faint smile on his lips.

The Captain was getting old, he thought. He was over-cautious and afraid to take risks of any sort.

As far as he was concerned, he rather welcomed the storm. He was sick of soft living, of hanging around Carlton House and dancing attention on women. His eyes hardened as he thought of them.

There was Lady Bowhill, ready to throw herself into his arms and, although he had admired her beauty, he had imagined that she was virtuous and faithful to Sir Horace for whom he had a genuine regard.

Ah, well, women were the same everywhere. There had been that dark-eyed woman, rather pretty in a haggard way, who had flirted outrageously with him last night at the ball. Juanita something, he had forgotten her name.

But she was not the type that amused him and if he had not had a lot to drink he would not have cast her a second glance for all her manoeuvring and coquetry.

He threw down the papers and stretched his arms above his head. A storm might be quite a thrill.

And then his face darkened.

“Damn the Prime Minister for not letting me join the Armies,” he swore aloud

Angrily he picked up a dispatch from the table. The Duke of Wellington had sent him a special note asking him to read the dispatches he had entrusted in his care and telling him privately of some of the difficulties that they were encountering.

 

“My men are in good health,” he wrote, “but, although things have improved since I came out here, there are always difficulties in feeding an Army and those at home have no idea what it is to march for perhaps four days with nothing to eat. They talk about living off the country. Let them try it after six years of war and on the barren mountains, where even a goat cannot find enough to sustain it.”

Lord Wye rose to his feet.

Moving a little carefully, because he was too tall for the cabin and, on innumerable occasions, had knocked his head on the oak beams, he went to the porthole.

They had left the Harbour and were moving into the open sea. Lord Wye looked back and stared wistfully at the long line of barren mountains. If he had had wings, he would have flown towards them.

He wanted to see for himself what was happening beyond them. He wanted to smell gunpowder in his nostrils and the rough comradeship of men who were facing death or glory.

“Damn the Prime Minister!” he said again.

At that moment the cabin door opened.

“May I speak with you, my Lord?”

It was one of the junior Officers who spoke, a young man whom Lord Wye had chosen himself and he had a liking for him.

“Yes, Sanders, what is it?”

“It’s a stowaway, my Lord. I thought you might like to know about it.”

“A stowaway!”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Lord Wye glanced out of the porthole to Lisbon, getting farther and farther away from them.

“Well, it’s too late to send him back,” he said. “Put him to work.”

“That’s just the difficulty, my Lord. And it’s not a man, but a woman.”

“A woman!”

Lord Wye was startled into expostulating the words quite loudly.

“Well, actually that is a slight exaggeration,...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.5.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Historische Romane
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 1-78867-059-0 / 1788670590
• ISBN-13: 978-1-78867-059-3 / 9781788670593