The Cross of Love by Barbara Cartland

no."
    "Does the young woman want to marry you?" Rena asked quietly. "What kind of a person is she?"
    "I only met her once, at the ball, and formed very little impression of her personality."
    "Is she pretty?" Rena asked, busying herself with mixing a cake.
    "Not really. She's very quiet, and some men might find that charming. But me - I don't know - she's not for me. I like a woman who has more to say for herself."
    "Then you're different to most men," Rena observed, smiling. "Most of them like a woman who keeps quiet and lets them do the talking."
    "Indeed?" He raised his eyebrows quizzically. "And may I ask how you obtained this vast knowledge?"
    "From my mother," she laughed. "Who obtained it from her mother, doubtless. Gentlemen do not like a chatterbox. Gentlemen do not like a woman who puts forward her opinions, especially if they are contrary to their own. In fact a real lady has no opinions."
    "Heavens! What a bore! I must say, it sounds just like Matilda Wyngate. Poor girl. I don't mean to be unkind to her. She'd be the perfect wife for a man of a different temperament to me."
    "I feel rather sorry for her!" said Rena. "Perhaps she has no idea what her father is planning."
    "Perhaps. I can just imagine him not bothering to tell her. Once he'd made his plans, he's just the sort of man to dispense with other people's feelings as an unnecessary extra.
    "He simply can't imagine that there are things his money can't buy him."
    Rena gave a sigh.
    "I am afraid there are a great many people like that in the world," she said. "Papa used to say that although we were poor, we should always appreciate the beautiful things in life."
    "What were they?" the Earl asked as if the way she had spoken made him curious.
    Rena smiled. "The sun, the moon, the stars," she replied. "And so many other things, too many to mention."
    "That's just the sort of thing you would say," he told her. "I am beginning to think you aren't real, but a part of the magic cross you showed me in the woods. Also the sunshine, which, although you may not know it, is turning your hair to gold."
    "Don't let Mr. Wyngate hear you saying things like that," she reproved. "I understand that it means nothing, but he won't."
    John looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Then he took a sharp breath.
    "Why, that's it! I'll say that you're my wife!"
    "John, do be sensible."
    "Wouldn't you like to be my wife?" he sounded hurt.
    "If you don't take care you'll find yourself engaged to me, and then I'll bring an action for breach of promise, and you'll really be in a pickle."
    "Only if I tried to get out of it. I might insist on marrying you. What would you do then?"
    "Don't make me laugh when I'm beating eggs," she begged. "It's dangerous."
    "Yes, you just flipped some on my nose. Anyway, you couldn't sue me for breach of promise." His eyes were twinkling.
    "Indeed, sir? And do you often ask girls if they would 'like to be your wife'?"
    "Every day," he assured her. "But I always make sure there are no witnesses. Then there's nothing they can do when I behave like a cad, and vanish."
    She was speechless.
    He grinned at the sight of her indignant face.
    "I learned that from one of my shipmates," he said. "He had a considerable career of that kind. In fact I think he joined the Navy one jump ahead of an outraged father."
    "I think you're quite disgraceful. And so was he."
    "Yes, he was. Of course it isn't funny if it's real, but I would never actually behave in such a way. I hope you know that."
    "What I know or don't know is neither here nor there," she said, concentrating on the eggs. Something in his tone as he spoke the last words had made the air sing about her ears.
    "It isn't me you have to impress," she added.
    "Well I wouldn't like you to think badly of me, Rena. For any reason."
    She regarded him quizzically. "My Lord, since we've met you have set me to work in a beetle infested oven, struck me down and rolled me around on a dusty carpet. Why on