The Garden Of Dreams. Sara Craven

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      TABLE OF CONTENTS

       COVER

       TITLE PAGE

       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       ENDPAGE

       COPYRIGHT

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘ARE you going to marry him?’ said Jenny, straight to the point as usual.

      ‘I don’t know.’ Lissa Fairfax lifted the brooch from its satin bed in the worn velvet box, with a troubled frown. The late afternoon sun was pouring in through the big window of the living room of their small flat and catching the gleaming stones, as she turned the brooch in her hand, and the sparkling facets gleamed like living fire.

      She sighed a little. ‘One thing is certain. This will have to go back.’

      ‘I don’t see why,’ argued Jenny. ‘Paul has given you masses of presents. You’ve never thought twice about accepting any of them before.’

      ‘But this is different.’ Lissa examined the brooch, her frown deepening. ‘This is valuable—I’m sure it is. Look at the colour of the gold, and the way the clasp is made. It looks very old.’

      ‘Perhaps he’s showering you with the family heirlooms,’ said Jenny. ‘Still, it makes a nice change from flowers and perfume, and those gorgeous chocolates that we didn’t dare eat because of that diet thing we were on. Oh—and that super lighter. I’d forgotten that.’

      ‘I hadn’t.’ Lissa put the brooch back in the case. ‘That was too expensive as well. It’s all too much, too soon, Jen. After all, I’ve only known him six weeks.’

      ‘Some people would say that was long enough.’

      ‘Well, I wouldn’t.’ Lissa’s tone was definite. ‘I want to know someone far better than that before spending the rest of my life with them. I don’t like being rushed into things.’

      Jenny sighed elaborately. ‘The most attractive Frenchman I’ve ever seen, young and wealthy—yes, he is, Lissa—no one could have his sort of clothes or car unless they were loaded, and he wants to marry you. And instead of falling into his arms, you say …’

      ‘I’ll think it over.’ Lissa smiled at her flatmate affectionately. They had been together ever since she had come to London, sharing this upstairs flatlet of sitting room, tiny bedroom with enough space for two beds and a Victorian-style wardrobe, with a kitchenette and tiny bathroom. ‘I mean to think it over very seriously. After all, you knew Roger for ages before you even thought of settling down. I can’t just grab Paul and let everything go by the board. After all, what do I really know about him—about his family or his background?’

      ‘Hasn’t he ever mentioned anyone?’

      ‘He’s spoken of his mother a few times—and he’s made odd references to a brother. I got the impression there might be a spot of friction there. He didn’t say so, of course.’

      ‘Your womanly intuition told you so.’ Jenny turned back to the neglected ironing board and began to pay minute attention to the cuffs of a white silk blouse. ‘Honestly, love, he’s the catch of the year, and he’s just waiting to drop into your hands. And you get on so well together. You can’t deny that.’

      ‘Oh, yes, he’s wonderful to go out with—charming, attentive, amusing—everything anyone could wish, but——’ Lissa paused.

      Jenny raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘The girl wants jam on it. Okay, but what?’

      ‘But I can’t see him married and settling down to a routine just yet. Take that job of his at the Embassy. He doesn’t care about it at all,’

      ‘Well, if he’s as wealthy as he seems to be, there’s no real need for him to worry.’

      ‘No, but if you have a job, you should do it, not just play at it.’ Lissa stared down at the brooch. ‘And now this. I wish I knew where he’d got it from.’

      ‘You surely don’t think he nicked it?’ Jenny was horrified.

      Lissa laughed. ‘Of course not. But it’s so uncharacteristic of Paul. He’s such a present-day person, and this has definitely an air of days gone by.’