A Suitable Husband. Jessica Steele

Чтение книги онлайн.

      CHAPTER THREE

      IT WAS still dark when Jermaine awoke the next day. She lay there for a while, recollecting where she was. For someone who had never intended to stay the night, she realised, she had slept very well.

      She knew she should get up and start her day—but not just yet. Strangely, where spending a night at Highfield had never been in her plans, now she somehow felt most at home here.

      Which was absurd, she decided, pushing back the covers and reaching for the lamp switch. Light flooded the superb room. Work, she decided firmly. She had a long way to go, and she wanted to get Edwina’s breakfast and take it up to her. Correction. She didn’t want to do anything of the sort. But if she didn’t get Edwina’s breakfast Mrs Dobson would be expected to do it.

      Dawn had not broken when she showered and dressed. Since she could not hear noises of other occupants astir, Jermaine lingered in her room, stripping her bed and putting her belongings into her overnight bag. When one last check of her room showed there was nothing else she could do to save Mrs Dobson more work, Jermaine silently left her room.

      A light burning in the hall indicated that either someone was up or that the light had been left on overnight. Someone was up, Jermaine realised when she went to the main door and found it was already unbolted.

      She saw neither hide nor hair of anyone, though, when she took her overnight bag out to her car and triggered off the outside security lights.

      She didn’t get to stow her bag, however, because, looking about this idyllic spot, she found her attention drawn to the elegant lamps which stood on stone posts way down the long, long drive. They had been switched on, but it was not the grounds of Highfield that particularly interested her just then—but what lay beyond. It—couldn’t be? Light reflecting on—water?

      Staring incredulously, Jermaine set off down the drive. She did not want to believe what her eyes were telling her, but the nearer she got to the end of the drive so she had to believe it. The road beyond was flooded!

      With dawn starting to break, but determined not to trust the evidence of her eyes, she skirted the rain-sodden gardens—only to find yet more water. Unbelievably, they were cut off! No way was she going to be able to drive through that lot—she’d be waterlogged long before she came to any main road.

      Still staggered, and unwilling to admit defeat—she had a job to go to, for goodness’ sake—Jermaine trudged on. She was going to go to work. She was, she was! Though, as she surveyed the scene, she owned that she didn’t very much fancy being stranded in the middle of a moat, should her car go so far, decide it wasn’t amphibious and pack up on her.

      Jermaine was some way from the house, and had skirted round the rear of the building and its outbuildings, when she came unexpectedly to a little footbridge. She went over to it and stared down at the torrent of water that was splashing about in the small stream below. Then she spotted a nearby bench and went over to it. Strangely, then, as she sat down to collect her thoughts, a feeling akin to peace started to wash over her. Should that torrent ever steady down to a ripple this would be a most tranquil spot. Even now the scene—grassy banks, the bridge, even the water—had great charm.

      She guessed it hadn’t rained for a couple of hours now; the bench she was seated upon was wind dried. Yet, oddly, the lighter it got and the longer she stayed there—while she was still extremely anxious to leave Highfield this morning—Jermaine discovered she began to feel less anxious than she had.

      It was this place, this spot, she realised, having, without being aware of it, started to take in her surroundings. It was winter now, of course, but even when damp and flooded, and with half of the trees having shed their leaves, there was something exquisite, serene, about the spot, about the willow tree bending over the stream, the dear little wooden bridge, the silence, the peace and quiet, the…

      ‘You’re up and about early,’ remarked a voice, well modulated and, strangely, not disturbing the scene.

      Jermaine looked up. ‘It’s lovely here,’ she answered Lukas Tavinor, quite without thinking.

      ‘You find this corner a bit special?’ he enquired, coming to share her bench.

      ‘Isn’t it, though?’ she replied. ‘So serene. You could just sit here and forget all your troubles…’ She broke off, astounded—wasn’t that exactly what she had just been doing? She didn’t even like Lukas Tavinor, yet here she was having a friendly conversation with him! She swiftly remedied that. ‘How are you going to get to work today?’ she demanded.

      Her change of tone was not lost on him. ‘I’m not,’ he replied evenly.

      ‘You’re taking the day off?’

      ‘I doubt I’ll sit at home and do nothing.’

      Lucky him! He’d got a study. ‘How long before this floodwater clears?’ she asked grumpily, with ideas of perhaps being able to drive out around mid-morning.

      ‘Difficult to say. If it doesn’t rain again before Monday…’

      ‘Monday!’ she gasped, and had her attention drawn to her feet when, ignoring her exclamation, it appeared Tavinor had been studying them.

      ‘While I have to say I doubt I’ve ever seen a prettier pair of ankles, those shoes are never going to be the same again,’ he remarked.

      Jermaine stared at her neat two-and-a-half-inch-heeled shoes. They were black, but since they were now caked in mud they could have been any colour.

      ‘I’ve got better things to do than sit here all day,’ she abruptly decided, and was on her feet and marching away from him.

      He did not fall into step with her, and she told herself she was thankful for that. No doubt he’d been out and about checking for any damage to his property from the storm. Pretty ankles indeed! Was that the sort of nonsense he used on her sister? Was that the kind of thing that made Edwina think he was falling for her? Jermaine thought not. Edwina knew men and…

      Edwina! Oh, grief. Monday! She could be stranded here until Monday! Play-acting—going along with this ridiculous farce because Edwina was after Lukas Tavinor! Going along with it for the next three days!

      It was farcical. She wouldn’t…Loyalty, family loyalty tripped her up. Even while Jermaine fumed against it and made herself remember how, from childhood onwards, Edwina had always taken anything that was hers, be it a toy, a game, a boyfriend, she still felt this nonsensical family loyalty to her, and knew that no matter how much she kicked against it she wouldn’t give Edwina away.

      Feeling thoroughly out of sorts, and this morning revising her last night’s opinion and deciding that Lukas Tavinor did deserve a fate going by the name of Edwina, Jermaine slipped off her shoes and re-entered the house.

      By instinct she found the kitchen, and Mrs Dobson. ‘I’m Jermaine Hargreaves,’ she introduced СКАЧАТЬ