A Suspicious Proposal. HELEN BROOKS

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      ‘She’s you?’ He stared at her as though she had lost her mind and maybe she had, Essie thought wildly. Perhaps that explained why she had been so incredibly stupid as to think she could take Xavier Grey on and win.

      ‘Look, I must answer that call.’ She rose as she spoke and he rose with her, his manners impeccable even in the midst of all the confusion. ‘Please, you stay here.’ She couldn’t have him standing over her while she spoke into the telephone; she wouldn’t be coherent. ‘I’ll be back in a few moments, I promise, and then I’ll explain properly, but…but I’m Esther Russell and the call is probably to do with my work and it’ll be important. I…I have to go.’

      He nodded, somehow giving the impression that he hadn’t moved a muscle at the same time, and she gave him one last helpless look before fairly flying out of the restaurant.

      Oh, it couldn’t have all gone more wrong, she told herself frantically as she hurried over to the reception desk, and what on earth was this call about? It could only be Jamie or Peter, and they would never have bothered her unless there was some sort of disaster—but for the life of her she couldn’t think what.

      ‘Essie?’ It was Peter Hargreaves, who owned the small town practice where she worked, and his voice was both apologetic and frustrated. ‘Essie, I’m sorry to bother you on your weekend off and at this time of night, but it’s urgent. That case you’ve been dealing with, Colonel Llewellyn’s hunter? Well, the horse has taken a turn for the worse and I think I need to operate, but I can’t find the case history. The animal’s worth a fortune and you know how much the Colonel thinks of him—he treats him better than he does his wife, and I dare not leave anything to chance. I need to be fully acquainted with everything you’ve done so far and the strengths of the medication he’s on, all of it. The damn computer’s down and I can’t find the hard-copy file. Any ideas?’

      Essie wrinkled her brow. They rarely bothered with the hard-copy files—Peter had an excellent computer system that was both efficient and fast—but there was always the odd occasion, like this one, when old methods came into their own.

      ‘It’s not in the filing cabinet, obviously, else you wouldn’t be ringing me.’ Essie thought for a moment. ‘Have you asked Jamie if he knows?’

      ‘He’s out at Sanderson’s farm: his daughter’s pony’s sick, and you know old man Sanderson. He must be the one person in the whole of creation not to own a phone,’ Peter said tersely. ‘Silly old blighter. It’s a hell of a way there, with the Colonel’s place in the opposite direction, and I might miss Jamie anyway.’

      ‘You say he’s gone to deal with Jenny Sanderson’s pony?’ Essie asked quickly.

      ‘Yes. It sounded like it had colic, which was what we thought the Colonel’s hunter had, but—’

      Essie thought rapidly. She knew Jamie’s habit of slinging every scrap of paper that ever came his way into the huge bottom drawer of his desk until it became too full to close—it didn’t matter what it was: letters, cheques, circulars, reports—they all went in. ‘Could Jamie have got the Colonel’s file out before he went to the Sanderson farm?’ she asked carefully. ‘If the symptoms were similar, he might have checked that file first, in case it proved the two cases were linked.’

      ‘You think he’s taken the damn file with him?’ her boss growled furiously.

      She hoped not, oh, she did hope not, because Jamie had been in hot water more than once lately for his cavalier attitude to paperwork and records.

      Essie crossed her fingers and said rapidly, ‘I’m sure he hasn’t but he might have looked at it and, if he was in a hurry to get to the farm, put it in the bottom drawer of his desk for quickness until he got back.’

      ‘He’d better not have, not with the computer down. Hang on a minute, Essie, and I’ll check.’

      The silence at the other end of the telephone made Essie aware of her surroundings again and, as she glanced across the thickly carpeted, luxurious reception area towards the big glass doors through which the restaurant was located, she felt her stomach turn right over. Xavier was going to be mad. He was going to be absolutely livid, she told herself weakly.

      ‘Essie?’ It was Peter’s voice again and now she jerked her attention back to the matter in hand. ‘I’ve got it. The young fool’s got everything but the kitchen sink in that drawer. You wouldn’t believe it.’

      She would.

      There was the sound of rustling paper and then Peter said, ‘Yep, I can see exactly what you’ve done and it’s fine, just fine. Right, I’ll take it from here and I’m really sorry to have bothered you, Essie. How did the wedding go?’

      It was very much an afterthought and Peter was clearly anxious to get out to the Colonel’s place, so Essie kept her answer brief. ‘Very well, thanks, Peter. Look, I shan’t leave till about ten in the morning, so if you need me at any time before then, please ring. Okay?’

      ‘Thanks, Essie, but I’ll be fine now I’ve got the records. Jamie’s a damn good vet but he’s going to have to pull his socks up in certain areas.’ There was a brief pause and then he said, ‘Goodbye for now. You carry on enjoying yourself and I’ll see you on Monday.’

      ‘All right, Peter. Goodnight.’

      Enjoying herself. Essie stood for a moment more before she put the telephone down and thanked the receptionist. Enjoying herself wasn’t quite the term she would have used…

      Xavier’s dark presence seemed to fill the whole restaurant when Essie stepped back into the quiet surroundings some moments later. It all looked the same—the pianist was still playing, the other diners were quietly enjoying the excellent food, the odd hum of conversation and genteel laugh adding to the overall gentle ambience of the hushed room; but there, in the distance, was Xavier.

      She hardly knew how to walk as she approached their table; she was vitally aware of the narrowed gaze trained on her face and the grimness that was reflected in every line of his big frame, but then she was sliding into her seat and looking straight into the icy countenance.

      ‘Well?’ One word—but more telling than any tirade.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ It was little more than a whisper.

      ‘Not good enough. Not nearly good enough.’ He stared at her for a moment more before saying, his voice biting, ‘You’re telling me you are Esther Russell, have I got that straight? Which means you are Christine’s best friend, not her cousin, and you’re a veterinary surgeon?’ The tone held a note of incredulity even the cold rage couldn’t quite hide, and that, more than anything else, put steel in Essie’s backbone. He still thought it was virtually impossible that she was an intelligent, successful and capable human being, she thought furiously.

      ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Her head was up and her chin was out and further thoughts of apology were out of the question.

      ‘So how old are you?’ he asked tightly.

      ‘Twenty-eight.’ It was a little snap. And then, before he could say anything else, she added, ‘And all this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been so darn rude.’

      ‘What?’ His bark brought a number of heads turning towards their table and, as Xavier became СКАЧАТЬ