Enemy Lover Read Free

voice:
    “Don’t let them over-awe you. They will if they can ... You’ll just have to remember that you’ve been sent for, and you’re not here to gratify any whim of your own.” And then his hand halted her progress for an instant. “By the way, I never asked you... You are Miss Clementina Mary Andrews, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, of course.
    He nodded in a relieved fashion.
    “I don’t know why I didn’t ask you. I suppose it was because you fitted the picture I’d been given of you so well.”
    Tina had no time to ask him what sort of picture someone had painted of her—very likely old Angus himself—for they were met at the head of the steps by an agitated elderly lady who promptly seized hold of the dark man’s arm, and completely ignored Tina.
    “I don’t think there’s much time!” she said. “He’s been asking for you...” Still she ignored Tina. “You’d better go up at once. Dr. Ambrose is there, and Philip—”
    “And Angus?” he asked.
    “Angus arrived about a couple of hours ago. He’s in the library. Naturally, he’s upset.”
    The dark man nodded thoughtfully, and Tina felt bewildered. She felt her companion of the last few hours put his hand on her arm, and then he spoke almost sternly to the elderly woman in the handsome dark evening-dress, whose white hair provided such an effective contrast:
    “Look after Miss Andrews, Aunt Clare,” he requested her. “She’s been whisked here at top speed, and she must be feeling tired.”
    But his Aunt Clare merely looked surprised.
    “Miss Andrews can wait in the drawing-room,” she said. “It’s not at all likely she’ll be wanted now, and you’ve wasted a lot of time. But I’ll see to it that someone takes her a tray of tea.”
    A young woman in the background—also beautifully gowned, and as slender as a wraith—said tonelessly:
    “I’ll see to it, Mamma,” and melted into the shadows of the great, sombre hall that not even crystal candelabra could render less sombre.
    Tina was shown into the drawing-room, where she sat in a satin-backed chair amidst other elegant examples of the same type of furniture for nearly an hour, when someone tapped on the door and a maidservant brought her a pot of tea and some sandwiches on a silver tray. The girl withdrew immediately, as if she had received orders not to linger, and once more Tina was left alone, with the intense silence in the room pressing on her as if it were a living thing, the satin-damask draperies that flowed before the windows imparting to her a sensation of being smothered in their folds, while the thick carpet deadened even the sound of her footsteps when she attempted to cross the room.
    She examined books and pictures, delicate examples of bric-a-brac, the contents of one or two china cabinets. The room was furnished in an old- fashioned manner, but everything in it was either costly or valuable. She knew that. The portrait above the fireplace was remarkably like old Angus when he was younger, without bristling whiskers and unkempt hair. As the hours passed his intense blue eyes looked down at her, watching every movement she made, smiling a little occasionally... or so she thought.
    There was a chiming clock in the hall—probably a grandfather clock—and it kept her informed of the flight of time. One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock ... At four she parted the curtains and looked out into the darkness. Flakes of snow were fluttering against the panes, and snow was already lying deep in the shrubberies. She could ascertain that much in the light that streamed from the drawing-room windows. It was too early yet for any flush of dawn to show in the sky; too early for cocks to crow... And the whole world was completely hushed and still.
    She shivered in the slight draught from the window, and went
    back to the fire. No one had been in to build it up, and it was not much more than a pile of embers in the grate, but the room was warm with central heating. She