Manolos In Manhattan. Katie Oliver

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ young,” Coco agreed, “and a bit superficial. But she is pretty,” she added grudgingly, “if you like tall, coltish girls with blonde hair and no sense of style, that is.”

      “Unfortunately, I don’t. I prefer women with style. And I prefer brunettes.”

      Humiliation, followed closely by anger, swept over Holly. So Hugh Darcy thought she was (1) shallow (2) unstylish and (3) unattractive? Who on earth did he think he was? Had he looked in a mirror lately? Oh, he was handsome enough, in a dark-and-broody, Heathcliff sort of way; but let’s face it ‒ he had all the personality of a law book.

      She waited on the stairs until they left, then made her way quietly down the last few steps. As she hurried towards the baize door that led to the kitchen, blinking back tears of anger and wounded pride, she collided with Hugh Darcy, who’d just come back into the entrance hall to fetch his coat.

      He reached out a hand to steady her, and the touch of his skin on her bare arm and the immovable wall of his chest against hers sent an unexpected frisson down Holly’s spine. He really was attractive, she realized belatedly. If only he wasn’t such a snobby, arrogant, opinionated knob...

      “I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “That was careless of me. Are you all right, Miss James?”

      “I’m fine.” She drew away and added coolly, “I should watch where I’m going.”

      They stared at each other, and it seemed that in just thirty seconds, they’d exhausted all avenues of conversation.

      He cleared his throat. “I meant to say...you look a bit upset. I hope you survived your encounter with Mr Duncan earlier. I trust he did nothing...untoward.”

      “Untoward?” Crikey, he talked like he was straight out of Downton Abbey. “No, of course he didn’t. Ciaran was a perfect gentleman,” she lied.

      “Good. I must say I’m surprised. But then, you’re not his usual sort of woman, after all.”

      His words – and his condescension – sent a renewed flicker of anger through her.

      “And what – or who – is his ‘usual sort of woman,’ Mr Darcy?”

      He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I only meant that you’re a bit young for him, that’s all.”

      “Really? Well,” Holly said, tilting her head back to meet his gaze, with a defiant gleam in her eye, “he doesn’t think so. In fact, he’s asked me to spend the day with him tomorrow – as publicity for the store. And I’ve said yes.”

      “I see.”

      Again they stared at one another, and again there seemed to be nothing more to say.

      He looked as if he might venture another comment, but thought the better of it. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss James,” he said tightly.

      “Thank you. I will.”

      She moved to walk around him, to find Jamie and tell him about her plans with Ciaran, and was just about to push through the baize door to the kitchen when he spoke again.

      “It’s not a good idea, you know. He’s not worth your time. He’s no good.”

      Holly whirled around. “Excuse me? And how would you know that?”

      He lifted one shoulder. “It’s common knowledge. He’s not known for sticking around...or keeping promises. He’s not a marrying sort of man.”

      “Who says I want to get married?” Holly said, and let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m already engaged, thank you very much. It’s just a publicity thing, Mr Darcy, not a – a lifetime commitment. At any rate,” she couldn’t help adding, “I’m just a silly, shallow girl with no style and no more depth than a puddle. Isn’t that right?”

      He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and dismay. “You heard me talking to Ms. Welch.”

      “Yes, I did. But you needn’t worry. I’m not interested in you in the least, so you can rest easy. Besides, I have my day with Ciaran tomorrow to look forward to. Unlike you, he knows how to have fun, and flirt, and make a girl feel special.” She tilted her chin up. “You should try it sometime. Having fun, I mean.”

      His dark eyes met hers, and in their depths she thought she glimpsed, very briefly, pain.

      As quickly as it came, it was gone.

      “Perhaps I should,” he agreed stiffly, and turned away to get his coat. He shrugged his arms into the sleeves – it was an excellent quality coat, Holly noted irrelevantly – and brushed past her with a curt nod, vanishing through the front doors, and out into the night.

       Chapter Four

      “Oh, thank you, Alastair,” Natalie said as her father-in-law returned to the drawing room and draped a pashmina around her bare shoulders. “These evening gowns don’t do much to keep a girl warm.”

      “That’s what you have me for, darling.” Her husband Rhys rested a proprietary hand at the small of her back and leaned forward to brush his lips against her cheek.

      “And I’m very glad of it,” she said, and squeezed his arm.

      “Congratulations on your pregnancy,” Alastair’s wife Cherie offered. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you since you found out. How far along are you now?”

      “Four months and a bit.” Natalie laid a hand atop the noticeable bulge of her stomach.

      “How very exciting. I’m thrilled for you and Rhys, I can’t tell you. We must throw you an extravagant baby shower, and soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me‒” she touched Natalie’s arm “‒I see Mr Duncan. I need to speak to him before he leaves.”

      “Of course.” Natalie eyed the film star, standing across the room deep in conversation with one of the store’s investors. “He’s charming, isn’t he? Alastair introduced us.”

      “Charming, yes.” Cherie’s smile remained fixed in place as she turned to go. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Good to see you again, Rhys.”

      And she sailed off to speak to Ciaran Duncan.

      Natalie shivered and drew the pashmina closer around her shoulders. “Doesn’t anyone else feel the chill in this room?”

      “It’s perfectly comfortable in here.” Rhys glanced at the fire burning in the ornate fireplace. He took a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray and handed it to his wife. “You must admit, you’ve got very little coverage in that evening gown.” His gazed drifted down to her not inconsiderable pregnancy décolletage, and he smiled. “And I must admit,” he added in her ear, “I like it.”

      She blushed. “Rhys, do stop. Oh, look – it’s my father’s portrait,” Natalie exclaimed. She went to stand before a painting hanging over the fireplace. “It used to hang in Grandfather’s office. It’s a William Tennant, you know.”

      “A Tennant? СКАЧАТЬ