The House of Happiness by Barbara Cartland

said he wanted to paint me, you know, once he finished Mrs. Dewitt.”
    Eugenia felt a pang of jealousy sweep through her. For a moment she even wished herself in the maid’s shoes. 
    â€œHe d-did?”
    â€œYes.  He said I had quality.”
    Eugenia regarded Bridget with envious interest. She could not deny that Bridget had developed a blowsy beauty, her dark curls tumbling over a rosy face, her bosom almost opulent beneath her bodice.
    â€œI can see how he might think so, Bridget, “she admitted in a low voice.
    â€œYou do?”  Bridget regarded Eugenia for a moment, biting her lower lip. Then she seemed to make her mind up about some matter, for she abruptly sat up and leaned forward, her manner conspiratorial.
    â€œHe – he often talked about you, miss. He said he wished you hadn’t gone away.  He wanted me to – to – “
    â€œYes?” Eugenia’s heart was beating fast yet even so she did not fail to detect Bridget’s reluctance to proceed. 
    â€œHe wanted me to give you this.” Bridget retrieved a piece of paper from her sleeve and thrust it at Eugenia. “There, I’ve done it,” she said sullenly under her breath. “You please go away now, miss, as I want to change my clothes.”
    Wonderingly, exultantly, Eugenia floated from the maid’s room.  Her heart seemed to be singing under her ribs.
    Bridget was an unlikely Cupid, but she had brought Eugenia the sweetest token in the whole wide world. A message from Gregor, all the more cherished for being so unexpected.
    *
    Barely had the household adjusted to the arrival of Great-Aunt Cloris than the Marquis himself returned to Buckbury.  He promptly announced his intention to host a supper for some of the local gentry, with whom he felt he must reacquaint himself after his long absence from the County.
    His guests at Buckbury found themselves happily included in the invitations.
    During the next two days the Marquis was not often seen about the house. He rode out in the morning alone and was gone till dusk. Then he was ensconced in his study with various sombre looking gentlemen who arrived at Buckbury with bundles of papers. Or he was meeting with cook, discussing the menu for the forthcoming supper. He made brief visits to Mrs. Dovedale and Great-Aunt Cloris.
    He acknowledged Eugenia with courtesy but was most attentive to the two older ladies, who afterwards pronounced themselves even more enchanted with him. This was lost on Eugenia, who was absorbed in her own thoughts.
    The remark was not lost on Bridget, however, who was always attendant on Mrs. Dewitt and was therefore privy to the visits of the Marquis.
    â€œI don’t see how you can not fall in love with him, miss,” she declared to Eugenia.
    â€œWould you fall in love with him, Bridget?”
    Bridget shrugged. “It’s not for me to aim so high, is it, miss? I just wonder that you don’t.”
    Eugenia stared.
    Bridget was a puzzle. One minute the maid seemed deliberately to stoke Eugenia’s interest in Gregor, the next she seemed unwilling to speak of the painter at all. Now here she was attempting to encourage Eugenia’s interest in the Marquis.
    *
    The night of the supper arrived. The candles on the long mahogany table shed a golden glow.  There were eleven guests in number, including Eugenia, Great-Aunt Cloris and Mrs. Dovedale.
    Mrs. Dovedale was beside herself with excitement at being seated with such illustrious folk as the Duke of Fillerton and Sir Humphrey and Lady Petts.
    Great-Aunt Cloris was not in the least overawed by the company, but her Spartan temperament was cruelly taunted by the opulence of the table, groaning as it was with silver and porcelain and dishes fit for a King. She was grieved to note that Mrs. Dovedale, positively revelled in the splendour.
    Eugenia, she noted with satisfaction, appeared rather unimpressed by it all.
    What Great-Aunt Cloris