Читать книгу: «From London With Love», страница 5
Eloise allowed herself to dwell on that scene in the shepherd’s hut, Jack sitting on the floor, looking up at her with a devilish grin on his handsome face. And when she had knelt before him, fooled into concern for the cut on his head, he had not hesitated to seize her. She could still remember the sensation of being at his mercy, the shiver that had run through her when she looked up and saw the devils dancing in his eyes. It had not been fear, but excitement that had coursed through her veins, the thought of pitting herself against him, her wits against his strength. Angrily she gave herself a little shake.
‘Enough,’ she muttered, scrambling out of bed and tugging at the bell-pull. ‘He never thought highly of you, and after last night he thinks even less. You had best forget Major Clifton.’
But it seemed that was easier said than done. As she partook of her solitary breakfast she tried to put him out of her mind but it was almost as if she had conjured him up when Noyes came to announce that she had a visitor.
‘Major Clifton is here to see you, my lady. He is waiting for you in the morning room.’
For a single heartbeat she considered telling Noyes to deny her, but decided against it. After all, it was her servant who had attacked the major: the least she could do was to show a little concern.
‘Thank you, I will go to him directly.’ She rose, putting a hand up to her curls, and it took a conscious effort not to stop at the mirror to check her appearance before entering the morning room.
Major Clifton was standing by the window, staring out into the street. He seemed to fill the room, his tall figure and broad shoulders blocking the light, and when he turned she was disturbed to find she could not read the expression on his shadowed face. He bowed.
‘Lady Allyngham.’
She hovered by the door, wishing she had asked the butler to leave it open.
‘Good morning, Major. How is your head?’
‘Sore, but no lasting damage, I hope.’
‘I hope so, too.’ She gave him a tentative smile. ‘Won’t you sit down, sir?’
She indicated a chair and chose for herself a sofa on the far side of the room. To her consternation the major followed and sat down beside her. Heavens, would the man never do as he was bid? She sat bolt upright and stared straight ahead of her, intensely aware of him beside her, his thigh only inches away from her own. Her heightened senses detected the scent of citrus and spice: a scent she was beginning to associate with this man. She made a conscious effort to keep still: she thought wildly it would have been more comfortable sitting next to a wolf!
‘M-may I ask why you are here?’ she enquired, amazed that her voice sounded quite so normal.
‘I want to help you catch whoever is persecuting you.’
Her head came round at that.
‘Thank you, sir, but I do not need your help.’
‘Oh, I think you do. Who else is there to assist you? I presume the journal is your property, so perhaps you intend to enlist the services of a Bow Street Runner to retrieve it?’
‘That is impossible.’ She glared at him. ‘If you had not interfered last night the matter might well have been concluded.’
‘I doubt it. However, I do acknowledge that I am in some small way embroiled in this affair now…’
‘Nonsense! This is nothing to do with you.’
‘I would not call having my head split open nothing.’
‘I should have thought that would be a warning to you to stay away!’
His slow smile appeared, curving his lips and warming his eyes, so that she was obliged to stand up and move away or risk falling under the spell of his charm.
‘My friends would tell you that I can never resist a challenge, madam.’
‘And my friends would tell you that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’
‘Quite clearly that is not true, for you are in serious trouble now, are you not?’ When she did not reply he said softly, ‘Perhaps you intend to enlist the help of Alex Mortimer—’
‘No! Mr Mortimer must know nothing of this.’
‘And why not? I thought he was a close friend of yours. A very close friend.’
His meaning unmistakable, Eloise turned away, flushing. She said in a low voice, ‘You know nothing about this. You do not understand.’
‘Oh, I understand only too well, madam,’ he said coldly. ‘This—journal you are so concerned about: I have no doubt it contains details of your affairs. Details that you do not wish even Mortimer to know.’
She gave a brittle laugh.
‘You are very wide of the mark, Major.’
‘Am I? Tell me, then, what it is in this book that is so terrible?’ She looked at him. There was no smile in his eyes now, only a stony determination. As if sensing her inner turmoil the hard look left his eyes. He said gently, ‘Will you not trust me?’
Eloise bit her lip. She wanted to trust him. She thought at that moment she would trust him with her life, but the secrets in the journal involved others, and she could not betray them. And if he should discover the truth, she thought miserably that he would look upon her with nothing but disgust. Unconsciously her fingers toyed with Tony’s heavy signet ring that she had taken to wearing on her right hand.
‘I cannot,’ she whispered. ‘Please do not ask it of me.’
She met his gaze, her heart sinking when she saw the stony look again on his face. It was no more than she expected, but it hurt her all the same.
Jack watched her in silence. The distress he saw in her every movement tore at him. He wanted to comfort her, but she was no innocent maid: she had told him quite plainly she did not need his protection. So why did he find it so difficult to leave her to her fate? He rose, disappointed, angry with himself for being so foolish. He had wanted her to confide in him, to tell him she was an innocent victim, but it was clear now that she could not do so. Better then to go now, to walk away and forget all about the woman.
‘Very well, madam. If that is all…’
‘I am very sorry,’ she murmured.
‘So, too, am I.’
A soft knock sounded upon the door and Noyes entered.
‘I beg your pardon, madam, but you asked me to bring any messages to you.’
He held out the tray bearing a single letter: she reached for it, hesitating as she recognised the untidy black scrawl.
Jack made no move to leave the room. Eloise had grown very pale and she picked up the letter as if it might burn her fingers.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘That will be all.’
‘Well?’ Jack waited until the butler had withdrawn before speaking. ‘Is it another demand? What does he say?’
She handed it to him.
‘You had best read it.’
Jack ran his eyes over the paper.
‘So he wants to meet with you.’
‘Yes, but at Vauxhall Gardens. That will be very different from Hampstead Heath.’
‘But even more dangerous. Much easier for a villain to lose himself in a crowd than on a lonely heath.’
‘He does not ask for more money,’ she said hopefully. ‘Perhaps he means to give me back the book.’
Jack frowned. ‘I think it more likely that he has other demands to make of you.’ He gave her the letter. ‘He does not expect an answer: the fellow is very sure of himself, damn his eyes!’ He began to pace about the room. All thoughts of abandoning Eloise had disappeared. ‘We will need to use your carriage, ma’am, and I think it would be useful to have your groom and my man there. We could send them on ahead of us: they will not look out of place in the crowd; one sees all sorts at Vauxhall. We have a few days to prepare…’
‘We?’ She raised her brows at him. ‘I told you I do not want your help, Major, and I thought we had agreed I do not deserve it!’
Jack stared at her, unwilling to admit even to himself why he was so determined not to leave her to her fate.
‘Allyngham saved my life,’ he said curtly. ‘I owe it to his memory to help you and to protect his name.’
‘Whatever you may think of me?’
‘Whatever I may think of you!’
Chapter Five
Eloise looked around the crowded ballroom. The plans were laid: tonight, very publicly, she was to invite Jack Clifton to escort her to Vauxhall. She experienced a sudden spurt of anger towards the unknown letter-writer: if it were not for him it would not be necessary for her to attend another glittering party. Lord Berrow was adamant that he could not sell her Ainsley Wood, so there was no reason for her to remain in London, and with Alex away she would much rather have returned to Allyngham than be walking alone into a crowded ballroom, knowing that nearly every man present would be turning lustful eyes towards her. She shivered: any one of them could be her villain.
‘My dear Lady Allyngham, you are looking charming this evening, quite charming!’ Lord Berrow was at her side, beaming and offering her his arm. ‘And no Mr Mortimer to escort you.’
‘He is gone into Hertfordshire,’ she responded. ‘But I expect him back very soon.’
She tried to smile, but the idea that any one of her acquaintances could have the diary had taken hold of her mind and she could not relax.
‘Excellent, then you must allow me to take his place: can’t have such a pretty little thing unattended.’ He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘I know what you are thinking: Lady Berrow is happily engaged with our hostess for the moment, and I know she will not begrudge me a turn about the room with a pretty woman, eh?’
She felt a tiny flicker of amusement at the Earl’s behaviour. He puffed out his chest and strutted beside her, showing her off to his friends as if she was a prize he had won. However, it was not long before she began to find his rather self-centred conversation quite tedious, and it was with relief that she spotted Major Clifton. He made no effort to approach and at length she excused herself prettily from Lord Berrow, who squeezed her arm and invited her to come back and join him whenever she wished.
Eloise moved off but immediately found her way blocked by a stocky figure in an amethyst-coloured coat and white knee-breeches.
‘Lady Allyngham.’ Sir Ronald Deforge bowed his pomaded, iron-grey curls over her hand. ‘A delightful surprise: I was afraid you had left town.’
She gave him a smooth, practised answer.
‘Why should I wish to do that, when so many friends remain?’
‘But you said, the other night, that you were tired of town life.’
‘Did I?’ She managed a laugh. ‘Let us ascribe that to low spirits, Sir Ronald. I am perfectly happy now, I assure you.’
She walked away, making for the refreshment table, where she observed Major Clifton filling a cup from one of the large silver punch-bowls.
‘You cannot know the happiness it gives me to hear you say that,’ declared Sir Ronald, following her.
Eloise paid him no heed: she was watching Jack as he continued to fill his cup: she was sure he had seen her, but unlike every other gentleman in the room, who would have been at her side at the slightest invitation, he was studiously avoiding her eye. Stifling her irritation, she approached the table. Sir Ronald sprang forwards.
‘Let me help you to a cup of punch, ma’am.’
Jack looked around, as if aware of her presence for the first time.
‘Good evening, Major Clifton.’
‘My lady.’
His slight bow was almost dismissive. Her eyes narrowed.
Deforge handed her a cup. ‘Your punch, Lady Allyngham.’
She thanked him but turned away almost immediately to make it plain she had no further need of his company. As Sir Ronald questioned one of the servants about the ingredients of the punchbowl, she moved a little closer to Jack.
‘A delightful crush tonight, is it not, Major?’ she said, smiling.
‘Delightful.’
His response was polite but hardly encouraging. She reached past him to pick up the ladle and add a little more punch to her cup.
‘Are you avoiding me, sir?’ she asked him quietly. ‘Perhaps you do not wish to continue with our plan?’
A smile tugged at the corners of his mobile mouth.
‘Of course I do,’ he murmured. He took the ladle from her hand, brushing her gloved fingers with his own. ‘Allow me, my lady.’
She carried the refilled cup to her lips, watching him all the time. His smile grew. He turned slightly so that no one else could hear him.
‘Well, madam? You must invite me to go with you to Vauxhall.’
Indignation swelled within her as she noted the wicked glint in his eye: he was enjoying this!
She raised her voice a little. ‘Have you thought any more about Vauxhall, sir? I should very much like to visit the gardens on Tuesday, if you will escort me.’
He seemed to consider the matter.
‘Tuesday…I think I could be free that evening.’
Eloise seethed. Her smile became glacial.
‘If it is too much trouble for you—!’
‘Did you say Vauxhall, my lady?’ Sir Ronald stepped up. ‘I would be more than happy—’
‘Thank you, sir, but having offered to go with Major Clifton, it would be very cruel of me now to deny him.’ She gave Jack a glittering smile. ‘Would it not, Major?’
Her heart missed a beat as he hesitated.
‘It would, of course,’ he said slowly, ‘but if Sir Ronald is willing…’
There could be no mistaking the venomous look that passed between the men. Sir Ronald said coldly, ‘If the major is not able to escort you, madam…’
Jack put up his hand.
‘And yet I do not think that will be necessary. I have not been to Vauxhall for some time, ma’am. It will be amusing to visit the gardens with you.’ His eyes laughed at her. ‘Shall we go by water, or the road?’
‘We will take my carriage, naturally,’ she replied, her calm tone quite at odds with the fury inside her.
‘Naturally,’ he murmured. ‘So much more…intimate.’
Eloise knew her smile did not reach her eyes. She sipped at her punch, determined not to make a hasty retort.
‘Then you will not be requiring my services.’ Sir Ronald’s angry mutter recalled Eloise to her surroundings. She held out her hand to Sir Ronald and gave him a warm smile.
‘Perhaps another time, sir.’
‘Perhaps, my lady.’ He bowed over her hand and walked away.
She and Jack were momentary alone at the table.
‘And what was that little charade about?’ she demanded icily.
‘Just that, a charade.’
‘You made me almost beg you to come with me!’
He laughed.
‘You have the whole of London at your feet: there has to be some reason for the Glorious Allyngham to accept the escort of a mere major. Everyone will think I played my hand very cleverly and piqued your interest.’
She placed her cup back on the table with a little bang.
‘I wish I had turned you down!’
‘What, and accepted Deforge as your escort instead? You would find him a dead bore, I assure you.’
She ground her teeth in frustration.
‘I do not need you! I could write to Alex: he could be back here tomorrow.’
Jack refilled her cup and handed it back to her.
‘But you do not want him to know what you are about: what excuse would you give him, calling him away from his business just to escort you to Vauxhall?’
She eyed him resentfully, hating the fact that he was right. He laughed again.
‘You may as well accept my help with a good grace, my lady. Now drink your punch and we will let the world see that I have fallen under your spell!’
After a solitary dinner on Tuesday night, Eloise went up to her room to prepare for her trip to Vauxhall Gardens. She chose to wear an open robe of spangled gauze over a slip of celestial blue satin. Her cap was a delicate confection of lace, feathers and diamonds that sparkled atop her golden curls. Looking in the mirror, she was pardonably pleased with the result.
‘You look elegant and very stylish,’ she told her reflection, adding, as thoughts of a certain tall, dark soldier entered her mind, ‘and you do not look in the least fast!’
With her domino of midnight-blue velvet thrown over her arm she made her way downstairs to wait for Major Clifton. Minutes later he was shown into the drawing room, attired in a dark blue coat that seemed moulded to his figure, as did the buff-coloured pantaloons that encased his legs and disappeared into a pair of gleaming, tasselled Hessians. She put up her chin a fraction as she was subjected to his swift, hard scrutiny.
‘Well, Major, do I pass muster?’
Her spirits lifted a little when she saw a flicker of admiration in his face: she had seen that look too often to be mistaken.
‘I have never questioned your beauty, my lady.’
‘Only my morals!’ she flashed.
He put up one hand.
‘Shall we call a truce, ma’am? We will need to work together if we are to succeed this evening.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘We have no idea who is writing these letters, but you may be sure that they will be watching you tonight. We must make everyone believe that I am there purely as your escort, to be easily dropped while you slip off to…where is it?’
‘The Druid’s Walk.’
‘Yes, the Druid’s Walk for your assignation.’
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
‘Do you really think you can act the role of a mooncalf, Major?’
He grinned back at her.
‘Oh, I think I can manage that, madam.’ He held out his arm. ‘Shall we go?’
The journey to Vauxhall was accomplished much more quickly than they had anticipated, the traffic over the bridge being very light, and they were soon part of the line of carriages making their way to the gardens. Despite her anxiety, Eloise enjoyed Major Clifton’s company far more than she had anticipated. He said nothing contentious, and treated her with such courtesy and consideration that she soon relaxed.
Jack, too, was surprised. He had heard enough of the Glorious Allyngham to expect her to be a witty and entertaining companion but he was taken off guard by the generous, unaffected nature that shone through her conversation: she was as happy to discuss the government or the plight of the poor as she was Edmund Kean’s latest performance. She had little interest in gossip and confessed that she was happier living quietly at Allyngham than being ogled in the ballrooms of London. Intrigued, Jack regarded her across the dim carriage.
‘This is a very different picture of you, my lady. You are not at all the Wanton Widow you are named.’
‘She does not exist.’
‘That is not what I have heard.’
She shrugged.
‘The ton must gossip about someone. It may as well be me.’
‘And do they not have good reason to talk of you? You have captivated every gentleman in town, and in so doing you have made every lady jealous.’
‘They have no need to be jealous of me: their menfolk may lust after me, they may talk of laying siege to the Glorious Allyngham—you see, Major, I know what is said of me!—but I have no interest in any of them.’
‘If that is so, then why did you come to town?’
‘Oh, for company. For the concerts, and the society.’ She added pointedly, ‘It is possible to enjoy a man’s conversation without wanting to take him for a lover, Major.’ She glanced out of the window. ‘Goodness, we are at the entrance already. How fast time flies when one is talking.’
She turned to smile at him and Jack’s senses reeled. The flames from the blazing torchères illuminated the interior of the carriage, glinting off the lady’s lustrous curls and lighting up her countenance, giving her the appearance of a golden goddess. Desire wrenched at his gut. He wanted to reach out and pull the pins from her hair, to watch those curls tumble down her back in a glorious golden stream. He wanted to take her in his arms and lose himself
‘Major? We must alight: we are holding up the traffic.’
There was a laugh in her soft voice. He snapped out of his reverie and jumped down. Damnation, he must be careful: he was enjoying her company but he had no intention of falling victim to her charms. Jack handed her out of the carriage and waited silently while she adjusted her domino, resisting the temptation to help, knowing if he did so his hands would linger on her shoulders. What was is she had said? It is possible to enjoy a man’s conversation without wanting to take him for a lover. Perhaps that was true: all he knew was that he wanted nothing to mar the easy camaraderie that was growing between them.
‘We have an hour to spare before supper,’ he told her as they walked through the Grove, the sounds of the orchestra drifting through the air towards them. ‘Shall we take a stroll about the gardens?’
‘Yes, if you please. Perhaps we should find the Druid’s Walk, so I know where I am to go later.’
Eloise was happy to accompany Major Clifton through the tree-lined avenues illuminated by thousands of twinkling lamps. At one intersection they spotted Perkins and Jack’s man, Robert, but they exchanged no more than a glance. Until that moment Eloise had been able to forget the purpose of their visit to the gardens. Now the fear came flooding back and she stole anxious glances at each person they passed.
‘It is very unnerving to think that any one of these people might be our villain,’ she muttered.
‘We will know soon enough. Until then let us try to pass the time without worrying. Perhaps you could tell me something of your history.’
She looked up at him, surprised.
‘It is not very interesting. I have done little, and travelled less.’
‘I understand there was some opposition to your marriage to Lord Allyngham?’
‘Strong opposition,’ she told him. ‘My parents died when I was a baby and I was sent to Allyngham to be brought up with the family. Lady Allyngham had no daughter, you see, and she brought me up with the intention that I would be something in the nature of a companion to her.’
‘Did they treat you well?’
‘Yes, very well. Tony and I grew up together—and Alex, of course, who lived on the neighbouring estate. We were all close friends, inseparable until the boys went away to school, and even then we were always together when they came home for the holidays.’
‘If that was the case then the Allynghams might have expected Tony to fall in love with you.’
She sighed. ‘I do not believe the thought occurred to them. He was their second son and it was expected that he would make an advantageous match. It is not surprising that they were mortified when he decided to marry me, a penniless orphan.’
‘That must have been very unpleasant for you.’
‘It was, a little. Oh, they did nothing so very bad; they loved Tony far too much to disinherit him or anything of that nature, but there was always a certain—coolness. It lasted until they died five years ago.’
‘If you had given Allyngham an heir…’
She flinched a little at that.
‘Perhaps that might have helped, but it was not to be.’
He glanced down at her, concerned, and she gave him a strained little smile.
‘You are not to be thinking my life is empty, Major. I have plenty to occupy me, looking after the Allyngham estates.’
‘That must be a heavy burden for you.’
‘Not really, I enjoy it. I took charge initially because Tony was away in the army. He trusted me to look after everything for him and we have an excellent steward, too. And Alex is always there to advise me.’
‘Ah, Mortimer.’ She heard the harsh note creep into his voice. ‘And was he also always there while your husband was away?’
She stopped. Suddenly it was important that she make him understand. She turned towards him, fixing her eyes upon his face.
‘Alex and I are very close, we share many of the same interests, but we have never been more than friends. Tony knew that: it gave him some comfort to know that when he was away we could look after each other.’ Impulsively she put her hands on his chest. ‘I may flirt a little, Major, but I have never played my husband false, and I never intend to do so. I want you to believe that.’
They stared at one another, oblivious of the raucous laughter and exclamations of the crowds around them. Jack’s hand came up and covered her fingers.
‘I do believe it,’ he said slowly. ‘The more I know of you, the more I am intrigued. I think you are more innocent that you would have me believe.’
Eloise stepped back. Warning bells were clamouring in her head: he was far too close to the truth! She gave a little laugh.
‘Do not put me on a pedestal, Major, I pray you.’ She tucked her hand in his arm. ‘Shall we find our supper box now?’
However, when they were seated in their box, Eloise gave Jack a smiling apology.
‘I am afraid my appetite has quite deserted me. We are so exposed here, with all the world and his wife walking by.’
‘Then let us give them a performance,’ murmured Jack, bringing his chair a little closer. ‘You need to eat, so I shall feed you titbits.’
‘No, I should not—’
He speared a tiny piece of the wafer-thin ham with his fork and held it out to her.
‘Yes, you should.’
‘But everyone is watching!’
‘Exactly. If our man is out there he will be reassured. And as for the rest, well, they will think I am the luckiest dog alive!’
Looking into his smiling eyes, Eloise capitulated. She opened her lips to take the proffered morsel. It was delicious, which seemed to heighten the decadence of the action, and she did not protest when Jack offered her another. She felt he was tempting her with so much more than a mouthful of food. Eloise put down her wine cup. The arrack punch was very strong and it was already making her senses swim.
‘You are flirting with me, Major.’
‘Very much so. And if I bring my head closer to yours while I pour the wine…’
‘No more for me, thank you! I need to keep a clear head for later. Do you really think we are being watched?’
‘I do. We must show him that I am truly enamoured of you.’
‘Oh, how?’
He took her hand.
‘Like this.’
Her toes tingled with excitement when she saw the wicked gleam in his eye. She watched as he slowly pulled off her glove, holding her hand like a delicate piece of porcelain. Gently he turned it over and lowered his head to press a kiss on the inside of her wrist. She gasped. He continued to drop kisses on the soft skin of her arm. Little arrows of fire were shooting through her; it was all she could do to keep still.
‘I—um—I think we should stop now.’
He ran the tip of his tongue lightly across the hinge of her elbow. Unspeakably pleasurable sensations curled around inside her, so intense she was afraid she might slide off her chair. She gazed at his head as he bent over her: she wanted to reach out and caress the raven’s gloss of his hair. She clenched her free hand to prevent herself from trying such a thing.
‘Major. Jack!’ She hissed his name, almost squirming now under his touch. ‘People are staring.’
He raised his head, fixing her with a devilish grin.
‘That is exactly what we want,’ he murmured. ‘It is almost time for you to keep your appointment in Druid’s Walk.’
Immediately the pleasant lassitude she had been feeling disappeared. She swallowed nervously.
‘It is?’
He nodded, slipping one arm around her waist.
‘So I am going to try to kiss you, then you will slap my face and leave me. Can you do that?’
Swallowing again, she nodded. Smiling, Jack gently pulled her into his arms. It was like coming home. Eloise gazed up into his eyes, black and fathomless as night. His face was only inches from her own. Her lips parted instinctively, her eyelids drooped. She ached for him to kiss her but his mouth remained tantalizingly just out of reach.
‘Now you have to slap me.’ Jack’s voice was no more than a croak. He said curtly, ‘Do it!’
Eloise dragged her wandering thoughts back. She knew what was expected of her. Pulling herself out of his grasp, she slapped him with her bare hand. Then, snatching up her glove and her domino, she marched off.
The gardens were much more frightening for an unescorted lady. Eloise pulled the hood of her domino over her head and hurried along the paths, trying to ignore the rowdy laughter coming from the darker walks. She kept her head down. Someone knocked her shoulder.
‘I beg yer pardon, lady.’
She heard Perkins’s familiar voice and felt a rush of gratitude, glancing up in time to see him tugging at his forelock before he turned and sauntered away. It was reassuring to know she was not quite alone.
She had memorised the instructions. The second arbour off Druid’s Walk. Now as she turned into the famous avenue she began to worry. What if someone was already there? What if the writer wanted to harm her? She shook her head and tried to think rationally. If her tormentor had the journal then most likely he would want some extortionate payment. She would pay it, too, if it was the only way to get the book back.
She reached the second arbour and slowed down. Cautiously she approached the dark space. A canopy of leaves blotted out almost all the light, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see an empty bench at the back of the enclosure. Her heart beating, she walked to the bench and sat down to wait. Almost immediately a voice sounded to her right.
‘You keep good time, madam. I congratulate you.’
Eloise jumped up. A black shape detached itself from the shadows. It was a man, wrapped in a dull black cloak and hat, his face hidden beneath a black mask. As he moved forwards the light glittered eerily on the eyes peering through the slits in his mask. She cleared her throat.
‘What do you want of me?’
He held out his hand and she saw the grey oblong held between his fingers. It was too dark to read it but she knew from its shape and size that it was another page from the diary. As her hand reached out he snatched it back.
‘How much?’
He laughed.
‘You are very sensible, ma’am. No tears, no hysterics.’
‘Would they do me any good?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then I will ask you again, how much?’
