Marriage Reclaimed: Marriage at a Distance / Marriage Under Suspicion / The Marriage Truce. Sara Craven

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ gave a brief sigh, then glanced around her. ‘Now, if we’re all ready, let’s take the tea in.’

      Sylvia was right about one thing, Joanna realised. Between the affectionate, exuberant greeting she received from Charles and the handing round of cups and plates of food, Gabriel’s cool politeness went almost unnoticed. Almost.

      And as the conversation ranged, from the state of the garden to the amount of painting Sylvia had achieved in Portugal, the fact that Joanna and he barely exchanged a word with each other wasn’t so painfully evident either.

      ‘Did you know we’d let the Lodge at last?’ Charles turned to Gabriel. ‘We’d almost begun to give up hope, but the agents found someone while we were away and he’s already moved in.’

      ‘Pity we didn’t know that Cynthia Elcott was looking for a place.’ Sylvia busied herself with the teapot. ‘Not that I’d particularly want her for a neighbour, of course, but better the devil you know…’

      Joanna stared down at her plate, not daring to see what effect this implied criticism of his new fancy might be having on Gabriel.

      However, he only sounded amused. ‘Your tenant has demonic qualities?’

      ‘Well, he wouldn’t have been our first choice,’ Charles said. ‘We’d have preferred a couple to a single man, but at least the rent is guaranteed, and you can’t have everything.’

      Good God, Joanna thought blankly. They must be talking about Paul Gordon, the man I met this morning. So, he’s actually living quite close by.

      She was aware that her colour had risen suddenly, and, looking up, saw that Gabriel had noticed too, and was staring at her narrow-eyed. She took a hasty bite of a sandwich.

      When tea was over, Charles asked Gabriel for a word of advice on a letter he’d had from his broker, and the two men went off together.

      Joanna offered to help with the washing up, but was quietly relieved when her hostess scoffed at the very idea.

      Sylvia accompanied her out to the car. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she said with mock severity. ‘If life at the Manor gets you down, you can always use this as a bolthole.’

      Joanna returned her heartening embrace, and drove away.

      She hadn’t really noticed the Lodge as she drove in, but now, as she approached it, she realised there was smoke coming from the chimney. As she slowed to negotiate the gateway Paul Gordon emerged from the front door and waved to her. She pulled over, and parked on the verge.

      ‘Well, hello again.’ He leaned in at the car window. ‘I thought I caught a glimpse of you earlier. Obviously you know my landlords.’

      ‘Yes, we’re old friends. I’ve been having tea.’

      He looked disappointed. ‘Then I can’t offer you a cup.’

      ‘No, thanks.’ She gave him a constrained smile. ‘I have to be getting back, anyway.’

      ‘But you will some other time?’ He grimaced slightly. ‘I feel a bit isolated, to be honest. The landlords were abroad when I moved in, and they haven’t been all that sociable since their return.’

      ‘Perhaps they feel they should keep any relationship on a business footing.’ Joanna spoke coolly, disliking the implied criticism in his voice.

      He groaned. ‘Oh, hell, please don’t freeze me too. I’m sure the Osbornes are really lovely people.’

      ‘Indeed they are.’ Joanna hesitated. ‘Maybe we take slightly longer to make up our minds about people in the country.’

      ‘Then I must be an inveterate townie,’ he said promptly. ‘Because I knew I liked you from the first moment I saw you.’

      She was aware of that tell-tale blush again, and angry with herself because of it.

      She said sedately, ‘Then that just shows the danger of snap judgements.’

      ‘I’m not afraid of taking risks either,’ he said. ‘Which is something we have in common, Mrs Joanna Verne.’

      ‘On the contrary.’ Joanna put her car in gear, preparing to drive off. ‘I’m extremely cautious.’

      ‘Not if you plan to ride that chestnut on a regular basis.’

      In the mirror she could see Gabriel’s car turning the corner towards them, and cursed under her breath.

      She said hurriedly, ‘Actually, it’s my husband’s horse, so I doubt if I’ll have much chance to take it out again. Now I really must go.’

      ‘Of course.’ He stood back from the car, his smile warm, lingering. ‘But I look forward to seeing you again soon.’

      He went back into the Lodge, closing the front door behind him. Joanna waited on the verge for Gabriel to overtake her. She half expected him to stop the car and make some comment, but he simply drove past—almost as if she hadn’t been there, she thought crossly.

      Yet she knew he’d seen her. Seen them. She’d felt his eyes boring into her all the way down the drive.

      She followed at a safe distance until they reached the crossroads, when he took the road to Westroe instead of the turning to the Manor.

      Off to Larkspur Cottage, no doubt, Joanna thought, cornering much too fast.

      She straightened up, slowed down, and pulled over to the side of the road. Killing herself, after all, wouldn’t improve a thing.

      It occurred to her that for the first time in her life she was experiencing male admiration from someone of her own generation. Apart from Gabriel, almost every man she knew was a contemporary of Lionel’s.

      Now she’d met someone who seemed to look at her as if she was a woman—and a desirable woman at that. And she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t find it flattering.

      Paul Gordon was also attractive, she admitted. In some other lifetime she might even have been tempted to respond to his charm.

      Instead, she thought wretchedly, she was trapped in her hopeless fixation on Gabriel. And much good that would do her.

      Oh, why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t love be a kind and mutual thing, instead of a destructive force that swept you away into a hell of your own making?

      And why was the person you wanted more than life itself destined to be always out of reach?

      She sat, staring unseeingly through the windscreen, her throat aching with unshed tears, letting her mind turn in endless, empty circles.

      And, when she could bear it no longer, she started up the car again and drove back to the Manor.

      Back, she thought, to her cage.

      She was met by an agitated Grace Ashby. ‘The Persian rug from the morning room, madam. It’s gone. Mrs Elcott’s taken it to her cottage. And the porcelain candlesticks, and the set of Delft plates. A van came this afternoon СКАЧАТЬ