Kiss Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

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СКАЧАТЬ the Hades were you trying? I told you to stay out of my office!” Sebastian Caughleigh stormed through the door.

      James raised an eyebrow. “I wanted an eyeful of the American heiress.”

      “You already had one.”

      “No harm done then.” James lounged in the wingback chair.

      “No?” Sebastian sneered down at his nephew. “If you’d taken her wallet as you were supposed to, she’d have been delayed, maybe even gone home in disgust. Instead, she’s here and oh so very anxious to look over her property. I’ve stalled her until the morning. You’d better find what we need tonight. There must be enough of it to fill a van.”

      “I’ll find it. Trust me, Uncle.”

      “Trust you? I’m not that stupid!”

      James ignored that. He stretched his thin legs out towards the empty fireplace. “Where is our eager American now?”

      “Safely ensconced at Emily’s.”

      “How nice. Tuck away your newest opportunity in your inamorata’s cottage.”

      Sebastian sat in the opposite chair, rested his forearms on his thighs and snarled towards James, “A word of advice. Don’t fail. It could get difficult for you if you don’t succeed tonight. Remember whom you’re letting down.”

      “Such unkind words, Uncle. Threats even. You hurt my feelings. Maybe I won’t tell you what I took from Miss LePage.”

      “You will.”

      James reached into his pocket and hefted a small brown leather book. He made as if to toss it to his uncle, then pulled back his arm. “Interested?” He smiled at Sebastian’s outstretched hand.

      The hand stayed open. “Give,” Sebastian hissed. James tossed the book at him. Sebastian caught it and flicked the thin pages. “Her diary. Wonderful. Now we know when she plays bridge.”

      “More than that, Uncle. I had a good read while you were out courting her. It’s one of those ‘everything’ books—phone numbers, addresses, bank account numbers and every lunch date and dentist appointment since January. Without it she won’t be doing much telephoning or sending postcards to her pals back home.”

      Sebastian wrapped his fingers around the soft leather. It might make interesting reading but its loss was hardly enough to make her leave. He glanced at the marble clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s almost four. I’m taking her over to the house at eleven. That gives you eighteen hours. Find everything.”

      James tilted his chin. “Or else? What?”

      “You may have to get an honest job.”

      James paused in the doorway. “Don’t worry, Uncle. It won’t happen. Who’d hire me?”

      Sebastian frowned at the empty grate. Hadn’t James understood anything? They couldn’t risk those papers falling into anyone else’s hands. Too many reputations were at stake and too much money. If only the wretched woman had stayed on the other side of the Atlantic. She could have had a comfortable three-quarters of a million. He would have settled some old scores, and been set up for life. Now—who knew?

      She had to be gotten rid of. No, a better idea. Woo her? Why not? Court her a little. Break her heart and she’d go running back home.

      A knock on the door woke Dixie. She stared at the unfamiliar pitched ceiling, and remembered. The door opened; she’d noticed earlier there wasn’t a lock, only a wrought iron latch.

      A pleasantly plump face smiled around the door. “Sorry to disturb you. I’m Emily Reade. I’m about to put the kettle on. Would you like to come down in a minute and have a cup and I can explain things?”

      Miss Reade liked to chat. She also wanted to be called Emily, took three sugars in her tea, and worked in a bank in Leatherhead. “Such a lovely house you have, beautiful. Worth a small fortune at today’s prices. Of course, whoever buys it will have to spend a pretty penny on it.”

      Why did everyone assume she was selling? “Where exactly is it? I haven’t seen it yet.”

      Emily’s pudgy eyes widened. “Orchard House? It’s just across the Green.”

      Why hadn’t Mr. Caughleigh pointed it out? They must have passed it driving here. She’d look for it later.

      Her arrangement with Emily involved bed and breakfast and unlimited cups of tea. Other meals Dixie fended for herself. She planned on exploring neighboring villages and the “Leatherhead” everyone referred to as the local metropolis, but tonight she’d content herself with the Barley Mow.

      She’d walk. She needed the exercise. She’d barely moved her muscles the past twenty-four hours, except to sit or sleep. The evening was colder than she expected so she doubled back to the house and slipped upstairs.

      Pulling a sweatshirt over her head, she heard a voice from the bedroom next door, “…. Out to get dinner…. I don’t know…. An hour or so I expect…. No, of course I didn’t…. I’m leaving all that to you…. When can I see you?…. Alright.” Uncomfortable at overhearing a private conversation, she tiptoed downstairs and closed the door quietly behind her.

      The Barley Mow packed a fair crowd in the evenings. Alf had a helper, a young man with a Mohawk and a large ring in one ear.

      “Evening, Miss LePage. Guinness wasn’t it?”

      “A small one.”

      “Half pint it is then.” Alf called to his helper, “Vernon, half of Guinness and watch the head. Anything else?” he asked Dixie.

      “I need dinner. Do you have a menu?”

      “Up there.” Alf nodded towards a chalkboard on the wall.

      Dixie scanned the scratchy writing: shepherd’s pie, lamb curry, Cornish pasty, steak and kidney, scampi, bangers and mash, Dover sole and an assortment of salads. “I don’t eat meat. What do you recommend?”

      “Vegetarian, eh? If you eat fish, I’d go for the sole or the scampi.”

      “Scampi then, Alf.” In the spirit of adventure she added a jacket potato. Whatever that was.

      Dixie settled in an empty table near the window, took out a paperback mystery, and settled into reading as she sipped her Guinness.

      “Why, hello there!”

      Dixie glanced up from Stephanie Plum to meet James Chadwick’s pale blue eyes. His smile implied she was just so lucky he’d found her. “Hi,” she said and purposely went on reading.

      He pulled out the opposite chair. “Ever so glad to bump into you again.”

      She wouldn’t return his smile at any price. No way was she encouraging him. She didn’t need to. He set his glass on the table. The nerve of the man! Three times in one day was beyond chance. Dixie debated emptying her glass into his lap. It would get rid of him, but it seemed a dreadful waste of good Guinness.

      Kit СКАЧАТЬ