Dangerous Waters Read Free Page A

interesting man.”
    Phoebe suspected he’d started to say something different but changed his mind. On his way to the door he glanced back.
    â€œTell Mrs Lynas to do something special for dinner.”
    Phoebe smiled. “Of course.” As he went out she stood perfectly still and drew a slow deep breath. So there it was. Uncle George was going to remarry. And Carina Bishop, with exquisite tact, had made it clear she did not wish to share married life or her new home with an indigent relative.
    Returning to the kitchen Phoebe wondered why William Quintrell had been invited to join what was, after all, a family celebration. Still, an additional guest would make an even number at table and ensure conversation remained general. Considering the past hour that was something to be grateful for.

Chapter Two
    Phoebe sat with her hands out of sight in her lap, the starched white napkin crushed in her fists. Trained by Aunt Sarah never to betray fear or anxiety – for a woman in labour or the mother of an ill child needed to feel reassured, to have confidence in the person helping her – Phoebe maintained her expression of polite interest and somehow kept a smile on her lips.
    The meal over which Mrs Lynas had taken such pains had been a great success. Mrs Bishop and Mr Quintrell had both praised the salmon with shrimp sauce, the chicken vol-au-vent, ham garnished with broccoli, and roast fillet of veal all served with a selection of vegetables. The cabinet pudding, lemon cream, rhubarb tart and meringues had also been greeted with exclamations of pleasure.
    Phoebe had forced herself to eat, taking tiny amounts from a selection of dishes, anxious that her loss of appetite should not attract notice or comment. Swallowing had required real effort and now the food lay heavily in her stomach. Only pride and stubborn determination kept her back straight and her smile intact.
    Watching Carina Bishop lay her fingertips lightly, possessively, on Uncle George’s arm as she murmured something to William Quintrell, and seeing her uncle’s normally taciturn expression soften in open adoration Phoebe felt anew the shock of betrayal. And under that the first stirring of fear. Mentally she slammed a door on it. Not now, not yet. If she allowed herself to dwell even for a moment on – No. Concentrate.
    She could not blame her uncle. She didn’t blame Carina Bishop. Even William Quintrell seemed a pleasant enough man, if somewhat over-indulgent in his drinking. What cut so deep was the realisation that they had arranged it all between them. Her future had been discussed and planned in considerable detail without her knowledge. Everyone except her had sat down to dinner already knowing what was intended.
    Couldn’t Uncle George have given her a hint, a clue? Had he feared rebellion? Feared delay or disruption to his future with Mrs Bishop? Did he not know her better than that? How could he imagine, after all his kindness to her, that she would stand in the way of his happiness. But for him to do this…
    â€œWell now, Miss Dymond,” William Quintrell’s jovial tones broke into thoughts she was glad to escape. “I have no difficulty at all understanding why your uncle speaks so highly of you. I daresay this evening’s news came as a bit of a shock. In truth I’m astonished at my own good fortune. I hadn’t expected the matter settled so swiftly. But meeting your uncle again – well, it has all worked out most satisfactorily. Yes, indeed.” He turned the stem of his wineglass, clearly expecting it to be refilled.
    â€œWould you care for a little more wine, Mr Quintrell?” Carina Bishop enquired. The fractional lift of her dark brows signalled her surprise at Phoebe for neglecting her role as hostess. “George?”
    Phoebe watched her uncle start, then jump to his feet. Refilling his guest’s glass, he paused beside Carina who demurred. He glanced