Crowned: An Ordinary Girl. Natasha Oakley

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СКАЧАТЬ said, standing up and putting his cup and saucer back on the table.

      ‘You’re weeks from retiring,’ she said softly. ‘You did tell him that, didn’t you?’

      ‘Eliana will understand—’

      ‘She won’t, Peter. You and I both know that if your wife had had her way you’d be retired now.’

      The professor sat down again and leant forward to take hold of her hands. ‘This is the “big” one, Marianne. I’ve waited my whole life for something like this.’

      His earnest, lined face shone with the absolute certainty she’d understand, and the tragedy was, she did. Marianne understood absolutely how much he’d want this—and how completely impossible it was for him to take it.

      ‘Have you told him about your eyesight?’ she asked gently.

      The professor let go of her hands and sat back in his seat.

      She hated to do this to him, hated it particularly because he was the most wonderful, brilliant and caring man she’d ever met, but it was an impossible dream. He had to know that—deep down. ‘You can’t see well enough to do this justice and, if it’s as significant as you think it is, you ought to pass it on to another expert. I can think of upward of a dozen who are eminently qualified, half a dozen I’d be happy with.’

      He shook his head. ‘We could do it together. I’ve told him I’d need to bring a colleague—’

      ‘I’m too junior,’ Marianne objected firmly. ‘I’ve got years of study ahead of me before I’d be ready to take on something like this.’

      ‘You could be my eyes. You’ve a sharp, analytical mind and we’re a great team.’ The professor stood up abruptly and brushed the crumbs off his tie. ‘Let’s not discuss it any more until after dinner tonight. There’s plenty of time before I have to give him my final decision.’

      After what dinner? Her mind went into spasm and the question in her head didn’t make words as the professor adjusted his reactor light glasses and continued, ‘You and I can talk about it after we’ve seen the photographs. There is a stack of them apparently and I’ll need you there to take a look at them.’

      ‘Wh-what dinner?’

      ‘Didn’t I say?’ His assumed nonchalance would have been comical if the stakes weren’t so high. ‘Prince Sebastian has invited us to dinner at the Randall. At eight,’ he added as Marianne still hadn’t spoken.

      Her mind was thinking in short bursts. Dinner with Sebastian. Tonight. At Eight.

      ‘Us?’

      ‘Of course, us.’ The professor sounded uncharacteristically tetchy. ‘I told him I’d need to discuss the offer with my colleague and he, very graciously, extended the invitation to you.’

      Marianne swallowed as a new concern slid into her befuddled mind. ‘You’ve told him you’re bringing me? B-by name? He knows it’ll be me?’

      The professor made a tutting sound as though he couldn’t understand why her conversation had become so unintelligible. ‘I can’t remember what I said exactly—but why should that matter? Prince Sebastian wants me, and whatever team I care to assemble. I chose you.’

      At any other time his confidence in her ability would have warmed her, but…

      The professor didn’t understand what he was asking—and, after ten years of keeping it a secret from him, she’d no intention of telling him now. But…

      Dinner with Seb.

      Who might not even know she was Professor Blackwell’s colleague?

      ‘We look at the photographs, we eat his food and then we take a taxi back here.’ The Professor smiled the smile of an impish child. ‘After that, we’ll talk about it.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE new dress wasn’t working.

      Marianne stared at her reflection and at the soft folds of pink silk which draped around her curves to finish demurely in handkerchief points at her ankles. On the outside the transformation from serious academic to sophisticated lady-about-town was staggering, but on the inside, where it mattered, Marianne felt as if she was about to take a trip in a tumbrel.

      What was she doing? There was no way she should have allowed Peter to talk her into this dinner. No way at all. Yet, even while every rational thought in her head had been prompting her to get herself back on the train home to Cambridge, she’d found herself in Harvey Nic’s, picking out a dress.

      And why? She was too honest a person not to know that on some level or other it was because she wanted Seb to take one look at her and experience a profound sense of regret.

      Stupid! So stupid! What part of her brain had decreed that a bright idea? She’d squandered a good chunk of her ‘kitchen fund’ on a daft dress to impress a man who only had to snap his fingers to induce model-type beauties to run from all directions.

      It was far, far more likely he’d take one look at her and know she’d made all this effort to impress him. And how pitiful would that look?

      Marianne turned away from the mirror and walked over to the utilitarian bedside table common to all the hotel’s rooms. She sat on the side of the bed and roughly pulled open the drawer, picking up the only thing inside it—a heart-shaped locket in white gold. Her hand closed round it and she took a steadying breath.

      Heaven help her, she was going to go with Peter tonight. The decision had been made. She might as well accept that. And she was going to pretend she was fine.

      More than that, she was going to pretend she’d forgotten almost everything about Seb Rodier. He’d been a minor blip in her life. Quickly recovered from…

      ‘Marianne?’

      There was a discreet knock on the door and Marianne quickly replaced the locket, shutting the drawer and moving to pick up her co-ordinating handbag and fine wool wrap from the end of the bed.

      The deep pink of the wrap picked out the darkest shade in the silk of her dress, while the bag exactly matched her wickedly expensive sandals. That they also pinched the little toe on her right foot would serve as an excellent reminder of her own stupidity.

      ‘You look very lovely,’ the professor said by way of greeting. ‘Not that you don’t always, but I spoke to Eliana just over half an hour ago and she was worried you wouldn’t have brought anything with you that would be suitable for dinner at the Randall. I said I was sure you’d manage something.’

      Marianne gave a half-smile and wondered how it was possible that a fearsomely intelligent man like the professor, who’d been happily married for forty-one years, could believe she’d have a dress like this rolled up in her suitcase ‘just in case’.

      ‘I’m excited about this dinner,’ he said, completely oblivious to her mood. ‘Of course, what the prince is asking would mean I’d have to give up all of the projects I’m currently involved with.’

      She reached out and pressed the lift button. ‘You’re retiring, Peter. СКАЧАТЬ