Lady Barbara watched as the Earl’s brand new Rolls Royce Silver Ghost Double Pullman limousine turned into the drive of Cruxton Abbey. She was standing, along with the rest of the family and the upper servants, outside the main entrance to the Abbey to form a welcoming party.
The Earl tut-tutted upon seeing the dust rising from the drive around his beautiful new car. He had spent a fortune on that car, and he expected it to be pristine at all times. He made a mental note to go down to the garage after lunch to check that Tree, the chauffeur, had removed every mark. He expected to find it gleaming, or Tree would regret it.
Barbara rolled her eyes. Honestly, her father and his new toys. He always had to have the very latest gadgets. She remembered her amusement as she’d watched from her window while the Earl had attempted to master the art of driving the car, but after much protesting from the gearbox he’d decided to give it up and leave it to Tree.
The car eased to a halt in front of the house. Paulson stepped forward and opened the rear door .
“His Highness the Prince Shevak of Yuwait!” he announced. The prince was first out partly by virtue of his royal status, but principally because he was heir to one of the richest men in the world.
Barbara regarded him with interest. Not only had fate blessed him with being the heir to a fortune, but he was young, fit, and good looking. A full head of dark hair crowned a well proportioned face, lantern jawed, and deep brown, ‘come to bed’ eyes. Barbara felt vaguely disappointed when Paulson produced a wife from the depths of the Rolls Royce.
“Her Highness the Princess Yupar of Yuwait!” Yupar had her satin tresses down, so that they reached almost to her waist, and even in her travelling outfit she looked completely lovely, slim, alluring, with brown eyes matching those of her husband. Barbara began to feel that she was going to enjoy the company over these next few days.
As the Earl and Countess welcomed their Royal guests, and the servants bowed and curtsied, Paulson assisted the ambassador from the car.
“His Excellency Senhor Thomaso Cruz, Ambassador of Brazil!”
The ambassador was somewhat older, perhaps in his early forties, but still good looking. He was a great personal friend of the Earl from their shared membership of a club in London, where they had found a shared enjoyment of vivacious conversation and various other common interests. The Earl had completed his welcoming of the Prince and Princess, and stepped forward to meet the Ambassador with transparent pleasure. “TC! My dear fellow! Welcome! Welcome to Cruxton!”
“Robert! It is such a pleasure to be here! Thank you so much for inviting us!” His English was faultless, and they shook hands warmly.
But Barbara wasn’t listening. Her heart had missed a couple of beats, and she felt dizzy.
For Paulson had reached one last time into the Rolls Royce, and had on this occasion produced the most extraordinarily beautiful woman that Barbara had ever seen in her life.
“Mrs Cicely Cruz!”
Blond hair spiralled down over tanned shoulders, framing a face which Barbara felt was perfect in every way. She felt her knees weaken as she looked at the clearest bluest eyes imaginable, perfectly formed nose and cheekbones, and full, inviting lips. Barbara’s eyes travelled down to a wonderful figure barely disguised within a fine travelling dress.
This was ridiculous, she told herself. Why am I thinking this way about a woman? I’m supposed to be looking for a husband, women shouldn’t having this sort of effect on me! Pull yourself together, Barb!
She looked around for Prince Shevak, it should be him she was daydreaming about! But he’d gone inside the house, and, like a magnet, her eyes were drawn back to the ambassador’s wife. She couldn’t help herself, she looked again at her dress, then after a short but wasted struggle with herself, she began mentally removing it, and she imagined long, slender legs, and a slim, firm waist between perfectly proportioned breasts and buttocks.
And it wasn’t just how she looked; she had a poise, a charisma which just drew you to her as moths are drawn to a flame. She was the sort of woman for whom men would cross continents; indeed the Ambassador clearly had, for she did not appear to be of Brazilian origin.
In all her life Barbara had not been so affected by another human being, male or female. She watched as Mrs Cruz’ eyes scanned the welcoming party, causing a ripple of murmuring amongst the menfolk, and then returned to her. Their eyes met, and those wonderful lips parted in a smile of delight.
Barbara felt moisture. She would require an early visit to a bathroom. She smiled back, and she realised with surprise that she had unconsciously allowed her tongue to make a quick trip along her lips.
In due course, the goddess had been introduced to her mother and father, and Eulalia brought her to Barbara.
“This is my eldest daughter, Barbara.”
Cicely held out her hand, and Barbara took it; it felt as though an electric shock had travelled up her arm. “Hi, I’m Cicely, but my friends call me ‘Siss’.” Her accent was American.
“Mine call me ‘Barb’, and I do hope we can be friends.”
Siss gazed at her. “Oh, I really hope so, too!”
So you might be in luck
)
Wragg I know this is a lighthearted piece but I am as enthralled as ever! Oh and I have started to watch D.A and it is as fabulous as everyone says it is!
