Читать книгу His Convenient Marriage - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 7

IF I don’t go back to the table soon, thought Chessie, combing her hair for the umpteenth time, Miles will be sending out a search party.

Her skin no longer scorched her, but she was still shaking inside, and her hand felt too unsteady to renew her lipstick.

The cloakroom door opened, and two girls came in, giggling together. Chessie was aware of the curious glances they sent her as they passed by.

She thought, I cannot go on hiding like this.

As she walked reluctantly back towards the dining area, she was waylaid by Jim Fewston. ‘Evening, Miss Lloyd. Hope you enjoyed your meal.’

‘The food was delicious,’ she assured him. But as for enjoyment …

‘And how’s that young sister of yours?’ He shook his head. ‘These days—they grow up before you know it.’

‘Yes,’ Chessie said. ‘I suppose they do.’

‘Sometimes,’ he went on. ‘they can be a little too grown-up for their own good.’

Suddenly, Chessie was uneasy. Up to then she’d thought Mr Fewston was just being the jovial landlord. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

He lowered his voice confidentially. ‘I hope she wasn’t too put out the other night. In a strange pub, she might have got away with it, but I’ve known her all her life, as you might say, and I know she’s not eighteen yet.’

He paused. ‘The local police are down on under-age drinking like a ton of bricks, and I’m not prepared to risk my licence. I don’t care for the lad she was with either, so

when she started pushing her luck, and asking for vodka and tonic, I had to ask them to leave.’

He sighed. ‘I’m sure you understand my position, and no hard feelings either way.’

‘I don’t think I understand much at all.’ Chessie shook her head. ‘Are you saying that Jenny has been in here trying to buy alcohol? I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.’

‘No mistake, Miss Lloyd.’ His voice was kind, but firm. ‘Why don’t you ask her, my dear? Often a quiet word is all that’s needed. I know it can’t be easy raising a girl of that age when you’re only a slip of a thing yourself, but this is something that wants nipping in the bud. And I’d keep an eye on her boyfriends, too,’ he added with a touch of grimness.

‘But Jenny has no boyfriends.’ Chessie’s protest was bewildered. ‘She doesn’t even go out at night. She’s in her room, studying.’

‘Not every night, Miss Lloyd, and other publicans will tell you the same. I suggest you make enquiries.’ He gave her a polite nod, and went back into the bar.

She stood for a moment, staring after him dazedly, trying to assimilate what he’d told her. To make some sense of it. Jenny, she thought. Jenny?

As she made her way back to the table she saw that their waitress had brought the cafetière. But she didn’t move away immediately. She was smiling and talking as she rearranged the cups and cream jug, bending over the table towards Miles as she did so. Fiddling with the collar of her blouse, Chessie realised, and pushing back her hair.

My God, she thought incredulously. She’s coming on to him. She really is. And he’s not exactly brushing her off either. He’s leaning back in his chair, amused, but taking the whole thing in his stride.

It brought home to her once again just how little she really knew about the way in which Miles Hunter conducted his private life. In fact the entire evening had awoken all kinds of uncertainties she could well have done without.

She found herself moving forward more quickly, and the girl, noticing her approach, gave one last smile then hurried away.

As Chessie sank into her seat Miles glanced across at her, his brows snapping together interrogatively. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Not a thing.’ Chessie summoned a smile of her own. ‘I was just thinking how attentive the service is here.’ She could hear the waspishness in her voice, and groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to sound jealous or proprietorial in any way.

But Miles, fortunately, seemed oblivious to any undercurrents.

‘Your friends run a smooth operation,’ he returned. ‘But that doesn’t alter the fact that there’s something the matter. What is it? Are you ill?’

‘No—really.’ She swallowed. ‘But it’s getting late. Would you mind if we just paid the bill and left?’

‘Yes, I think I would,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘Whatever Jenny’s been up to, it can wait until we’ve completed our first meal together in a civilised manner. In fact, I suggest you have a brandy. You look as if you need it.’

Indignation swamped her. ‘Why should it be anything to do with Jenny?’

‘Because that’s what that stricken look of yours inevitably means.’ His glance challenged her to deny it. ‘Will you have that brandy?’

Biting her lip, she nodded silently.

‘Good.’ Miles gave her a faint smile as he signalled to the waitress. ‘Rushing off in all directions won’t solve a thing.’

‘It’s so easy for you,’ she said bitterly. ‘Jenny is not your responsibility.’

‘Not at the moment, certainly.’ He saw the swift colour flood her face, and his smile widened sardonically. ‘Which, I suppose, is your cue to tell me that you wouldn’t have me if I came gift-wrapped.’

‘No.’ She didn’t look at him. ‘You asked me to think it over, and I will.’ After all, she reasoned, she needed a breathing space to find a new job—a new flat. And she needn’t feel too badly about it either. Judging by tonight’s performance, he’d have little trouble finding a replacement when she turned him down.

‘Hopefully it will have the added bonus of diverting your mind from Jenny, too.’ He paused. ‘I suppose you’ve discovered she isn’t the saintly, single-minded scholar you took her for.’

‘School used to mean everything to her.’ Her voice was tired.

‘I expect it did—while she was healing. It was safety—security, and she could use her studies to block out what was going on in the real world.’ Miles shrugged. ‘But the young recover fast, and now she’s ready to rebel.’

He leaned forward. ‘Face it, Francesca. Jenny’s bright, but she’s also spoiled, and brimming with resentment. Something had to give.’ He smiled brief thanks at the blushing waitress as she put Chessie’s brandy on the table, then reached for the cafetière. ‘Cream and sugar?’

‘Just black.’ Desolation had her by the throat. ‘I’ve failed her, haven’t I?’

‘Of course not. But you’re not experienced enough to see the warning signs, and impose sanctions in time.’ He handed over her cup. ‘So, instead of revising, she was cavorting round the neighbourhood, right?’

‘Apparently. The light was on in her room, and she used to play music all the time.’ Chessie shook her head. ‘It never occurred to me to check she was actually there. And, all the time, she was out, trying to con vodka and tonics out of unsuspecting landlords. With some fellow that Jim Fewston doesn’t approve of.’

Miles raised his eyebrows. ‘At least she’s not drinking alone. It could be worse.’

She gave a small, wintry smile. ‘I think it’s about as bad as it gets.’

‘Then you’re being naïve.’ He spoke gently. ‘But I do understand that you need to see Jenny and talk to her about it, so, as soon as we’ve drunk our coffee, I’ll take you home.’

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was subdued. ‘I—I’m sorry that I’ve spoiled your celebration.’

‘I promise that you haven’t spoiled a thing.’ He smiled at her. ‘On the contrary.’

He thought she was going to accept his proposal, Chessie realised as she drank her coffee. And, on the face of it, she had every reason to do so. Marrying Miles would provide her with the kind of security she could dream about otherwise.

He obviously saw it as a practical solution to both their problems. The same cold-blooded approach he brought to his novels, she thought bitterly. And although you were swept along by the sheer force of the action, you were invariably left feeling slightly cheated at the end.

But I can’t cheat him, she thought, swallowing. And I won’t cheat myself either. We both deserve better from life. And we don’t have to settle for second-best, just because we’re both still hung up on other people.

She studied him covertly under her lashes, wondering what the girl he’d loved had been like. Attractive, if not actually beautiful, that was certain. A trail-blazer, probably, bright and sharp, with bags of energy, sexual as well as emotional. And demanding high standards in every aspect of her life, including the physical attraction of the man she’d chosen to share it. But ruthless when he’d failed to satisfy her criteria.

She jumped, startled, when he said softly, ‘You’re looking bereft again. I think we’d better go.’

While he was at the cash desk, dealing with the bill, Chessie wandered out into the reception area, and stood looking without seeing at the display of watercolour landscapes by local artists that were featured there.

It was the sudden wave of fragrance in the air—half forgotten, but haunting—commingling the scent of some heavy sweet perfume and Sobranie cigarettes that alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. And that the newcomer was known to her.

She half turned, arranging her face into polite pleasure, expecting to greet an acquaintance, and stopped dead, staring with incredulity at the woman framed in the archway that led to the bar.

She was eye-catching enough, her lush figure wrapped in a silky leopard-skin print dress, and a black pashmina thrown carelessly over her arm.

Violet eyes under extravagantly darkened lashes swept Chessie from head to toe in an inspection bordering on insolence. Full red lips parted in a smile that combined mockery with a hint of malice.

‘Well, well,’ Linnet Markham said softly. ‘If it isn’t the little Francesca. Now, who would have thought it?’

‘Lady Markham.’ Chessie swallowed. ‘Linnet. So you’re back.’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Linnet drawled. ‘I’m sure the local grapevine has been working overtime.’ She strolled forward. ‘But I’m astonished to find that you’re still around. I’d expected you to have made a fresh start somewhere a long way from here—where you’re not known.’

Chessie flushed. ‘Fortunately not everyone agrees with you. And I needed to provide stability for my sister.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Linnet said reflectively. ‘The sister. She was the pretty one, if my memory serves.’

‘Indeed,’ Chessie agreed quietly. ‘And with brains, too. In fact, you’d hardly credit that we were related.’ She paused. ‘Is Sir Robert here with you?’

Linnet’s smile developed a slight rigidity. ‘No, he’s still in London. I came down ahead to oversee arrangements at the house. You simply can’t rely on staff,’ she added, dismissing the faithful Mrs Cummings with a wave of her hand. ‘I’ve booked into a hotel for a couple of nights. I just popped into the Hart for a drink for old times’ sake.’

‘I didn’t realise it was a place you visited.’

Linnet shrugged. ‘Oh, it’s always been a good place to see people, and be seen.’ She paused. ‘But I’d have thought it way above your means,’ she added, eyeing Chessie’s blouse and skirt. ‘Or are you working here as a waitress? You never really trained for much, did you? And you wouldn’t have any real references either—working for your father.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Nor anywhere decent to live. I presume Silvertrees House had to be sold.’

This, Chessie thought detachedly, was quite definitely the evening from hell. She lifted her chin. ‘Yes, of course, but I happen to work for the new owner, and we still live there. I keep house for him, and do his secretarial work.’

‘Well, that sounds a cosy little arrangement,’ Linnet purred. ‘You’ve certainly fallen on your feet. So, who is this paragon who’s taken you on?’

Chessie hesitated. ‘I work for Miles Hunter, the thriller writer,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Hunter?’ The violet eyes sharpened. ‘But he’s a bestseller, isn’t he? You see his books everywhere. He must be worth an absolute fortune.’

‘He’s very successful,’ Chessie agreed, wincing inwardly at the older woman’s crudity.

‘And charitable to waifs and strays too, it seems.’ Linnet’s voice was cream spiced with acid. ‘How did you manage it?’

Chessie shrugged, trying to control the temper boiling up inside her.

‘He needed someone to run things for him,’ she returned shortly. ‘I was available.’

‘I’m sure you were.’ Linnet gave a small, tinkling laugh. ‘However, I don’t advise you to start getting any foolish ideas this time. No girlie crushes. Because not everyone’s as understanding as Alastair.’

Chessie felt her whole body jolt with shock as if she’d been physically struck. Her nails curled into the palms of her hands. Over Linnet’s shoulder, she saw Miles emerging from the dining room, pausing to lean on his cane as he slotted his wallet back into his jacket.

She said, ‘Thanks for the warning, Linnet, but it really isn’t necessary.’

She went to Miles, sliding her arm through his with deliberate possessiveness, and giving him a radiant smile.

‘Darling, may I introduce Lady Markham, who’s just come back to live at Wenmore Court? Linnet, this is Miles Hunter.’ She paused quite deliberately. ‘My fiancé.’

Miles did not move, but the sudden tension in his body hit her like an electric charge.

Later she would hate herself, and she knew it, but now the expressions chasing themselves across Linnet’s face made it all worthwhile. Or nearly.

Linnet, however, made a lightning recovery. ‘Congratulations.’ She held out her hand to Miles, along with a smile that lingered appraisingly, and frankly approved.

My God, Chessie thought bleakly. First the waitress, now Linnet. Am I the only woman in Britain not to have registered his attraction on some personal Richter scale?

‘So, when did all this happen?’ Linnet went on.

‘Tonight,’ Miles returned, his face impassive. ‘We’ve been having a celebratory dinner. You’re the first to know.’

‘How marvellous,’ Linnet approved fulsomely. ‘I’m sure you’ll both be fabulously happy.’ She paused. ‘When’s the big day? I suppose you’ll marry locally?’