An Introduction to the Pink Collection Read Free Page A

front door and ring the bell.
    But curiosity urged her forward, along the passage. Curiosity won.
    As she moved quietly through the dining room she couldn’t help noticing that the table wanted polishing and the top of the fireplace was thick with dust. Probably the glass vases on the sideboard were half full of dust she decided. Really this place needed the touch of a good housekeeper.
    Then she heard a sound behind the door that led to the kitchen and the pantry. Now she knew there must be someone in the kitchen.
    Quietly she opened the door and crept along the passage which led to the pantry, then to the kitchen, from where the noise seemed to come. The door was ajar and she pushed it open. To her surprise she saw a man struggling to light a fire, and obviously not succeeding.
    She could see only his back, but the very shape of it was redolent of exasperation and frustration. He’d stripped off his jacket, revealing a tall, well-made frame in breeches, shirt and waistcoat. She contemplated him.
    Then something seemed to make him aware of her presence and he spoke sharply, without turning round.
    â€œPerhaps you can make this damned fire burn! I want some breakfast and the coal and wood are conspiring to prevent me from having it.”
    There was so much resentment in his voice that Rena could not help laughing.
    â€œLet me do it,” she said. “These old fires are very troublesome at times.”
    The sound of her voice made the man turn round. He was young and unexpectedly good-looking, although his face was partly hidden by a smudge of coal. For a moment they both looked at each other with interest and pleasure.
    Then he rose and said, “I do apologise. I don’t know who you are, but if you could make this fire burn I could have something to eat. I’m ravenous. I’ve eaten all the food I brought with me last night, and this kitchen has defeated me. In fact the whole house defeats me. Wretched place!”
    She couldn’t help laughing again, and assumed a shocked tone. “Do you know, sir, that this house has been called one of the most beautiful houses in the whole of England.”
    â€œI could think of several things to call it, but that wouldn’t be among them.”
    â€œDon’t let the new owner hear you say that!”
    â€œIt’s all right. I am the new owner.”
    â€œOh heavens!” she cried. “And I thought you were a ghost!”
    He grinned. “A pretty solid sort of ghost. A pretty filthy one, too. Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. My name is John and I’m the Earl.”
    â€œThe Earl? You mean – Lord Lansdale?”
    â€œYes. I don’t look much like an Earl do I? More like a pot boy, I suppose.”
    â€œMy name is Rena Colwell. My father was the vicar here until his death. He brought me to this house several times when the old Earl was still alive. It’s such a beautiful place, and I’ve always loved it. Is something wrong?”
    For his face had fallen.
    â€œOnly that if you’re the vicar’s daughter it wouldn’t be quite proper for me to let you light the fire.”
    â€œOh never mind what’s proper,” she said at once. “Let’s just do what we want.” Then her hands flew to her mouth. “No – at least – what I meant was – ”
    â€œDon’t,” he begged. “Don’t change it. I preferred the first version.”
    â€œWell, so did I,” she admitted, “but it was the sort of thing Papa used to reprove me for saying. Now, let me do your fire. I shall need some paper – there should be some in one of the drawers of the table. Then I must have some small pieces of wood and matches with which to light the fire.”
    â€œI suppose it is what I should have known,” the man answered ruefully. “But quite frankly I’m not used to making my own fire or cooking my own breakfast.”
    â€œI promise that you