by Sara Seale
“No? But then you’ve still a great deal to learn about me, haven’t you—between the traditional browbeatings, of course,” he said, but he obediently got to his feet, pulling her up with him. “You haven’t answered me, yet.”
“If you’re really sure—” she began a little shyly, and he gave her a shake.
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve been sure ever since that day in the orchard when you thought you’d fooled me and stood under an apple tree shaking down blossom and stealing my heart away.”
“Did I? Did I really, Robert—as long ago as that?”
“Yes, you did, and merely disliked me intensely in return, which was ungenerous of you.”
“You could hardly expect me to feel kindly towards you in the circumstances,” she pointed out, and he grinned.
“Well, no—perhaps you have a point there. You still haven’t answered me or, for the matter of that, given me any assurance of a return of affection.”
“I don’t need to—I told Mr. Brown,” she answered demurely, and he grinned again.
“So you did. Well, I suppose I must be content with that for the time being. At least you no longer labour under delusions concerning Kate!”
“Kate?” For the moment she had forgotten Kate and her eyes grew troubled.
“No,” she said. “She explained about that other man, only you couldn’t very well turn her and Timmy out of Farthings, could you, Robert?”
“Oh, I see. Without the bribe of Farthings, you’d think twice before committing yourself,” he countered so severely that she looked quite horrified, then he laughed and pinched her ear. “You don’t need to worry about Kate’s future, you prevaricating goose! I fancy it won’t be very long before the worthy doctor succeeds in persuading her to move down to the village.”
The last remaining scruple melted away and her face lit up.
“Oh, I’m so glad! John is so kind and dependable and he’ll make a far better stepfather than you ever would!” she exclaimed, and he gave her another shake.
“Very possibly,” he replied dryly. “For myself, I prefer to father and bring up my own brats than be a stand-in for someone else’s.”
“Yes,” she agreed a little smugly, “it wouldn’t suit you at all to play second fiddle.”
“No, it wouldn’t, so please remember that in the future, Miss Hayes. No followers, however respectable, or there’ll be trouble.”
“You see?” she said as he bent his head at last to kiss her. “I’ll never quite get away from Mr. Brown. He had very old-fashioned views about followers.”
“Oh, damn Mr. Brown and his old-fashioned views! I’ll have enough to contend with without that gentleman being thrust down my throat when it suits!” Robert exclaimed, and tilted up her face to his with some impatience.
“You’ll catch my cold,” she murmured, and he administered one last shake before imprisoning her firmly between his hands.
“Don’t change the subject,” he said severely, and proceeded to ensure her silence for quite some time.
“Isn’t it strange?” she said when finally she could speak, peering over his shoulder at the gloomy rows of deed-boxes which probably held secrets and even scandals long since forgotten. “It all began in this ugly musty room and now it all ends here ... do you suppose records of the Hayes Trust are buried in one of those boxes?”
“Most certainly, since this is a most reliable and trustworthy firm, but don’t let skeletons in cupboards rattle their bones at you, sweetheart. Remember that sinister Mr. Brown has already been written off as only a bogle to frighten the bairns with,” Robert said, ignoring a discreet tap on the door.
“He said to her: ‘How will you repay me for past favours?’ ” Victoria murmured.
“And kindly remember the lady’s reply,” he promptly retorted. “What a pity we never got as far as the consequence.”
“The immediate consequence will probably be an explosion from Mr. Chappie if you don’t tell him to come in,” Victoria retorted as a more peremptory knock sounded on the door and she straightened his tie with a proprietorial air before putting a decorous distance between them.
THE END
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