The Mistress Assignment. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
his grandmother hadn’t been able to take on Eve full time after their parents’ death—her husband had been very ill with Parkinson’s disease at the time—she had nevertheless always been there for them, always ready to offer a wise heart and all her love whenever Brough had needed someone to turn to for advice. She had a shrewd business brain too, and she had been the one to encourage Brough to set up his first business, backing him not just emotionally but financially as well.
She still took a strong interest in current affairs, and Brough suspected she would be as dismayed by Eve’s choice of suitor as he was himself.
And tonight Eve was expecting him to put aside his real feelings and to pretend that he was enjoying Julian Cox’s company, and no doubt, for her sake, he would do exactly that.
Eve might be a quiet, shy young woman, but she had a very strong, stubborn streak and an equally strong sense of loyalty, especially to someone who she considered was being treated badly or unfairly. The last thing that Brough wanted to do was to arouse that stubborn female protectiveness on Julian Cox’s behalf when what he was hoping was that sooner or later Eve’s own intelligence would show her just what kind of man he really was.
He looked at his watch. Eve was already upstairs getting ready. First thing tomorrow he would ring this Miss Harris and make an appointment with her to discuss his grandmother’s china. For now, reluctantly he acknowledged that if they weren’t going to be late it was time for him to get ready.
Seven miles away from town, in the kitchen of an old house overlooking the valley below and the patchwork of fields that surrounded it, Dee Lawson turned to her cousin Harry and demanded sternly, ‘You know exactly what you have to do, don’t you, Harry?’
Sighing faintly, he nodded and repeated, ‘To drive into town and pick Kelly up at seven-thirty and then escort her to the charity ball. If Julian Cox makes any kind of play for her I’m to act jealous but hold off from doing anything to deter him.’
‘Not if, but when,’ Dee corrected him firmly, and then added, ‘And don’t forget, no matter what happens or how hard Julian pushes, you must make sure you escort Kelly safely back to the flat.’
‘You really ought to do something about those maternal instincts of yours,’ Harry told her, and then stopped abruptly, flushing self-consciously as he apologised awkwardly, ‘Sorry, Dee, I forgot; I didn’t mean...’
‘It’s all right,’ she responded coolly, her face obscured by her long honey-blonde hair.
Seven years his senior, Dee had always been someone Harry was just a little bit in awe of.
Dee’s father and his had been brothers, and Dee had been a regular visitor to the family farm when Harry had been growing up. It had surprised him a little that she had chosen to continue her career in such a small, sleepy place as Rye-on-Averton after her father’s death. But then Dee had never been predictable or particularly easy to understand. She was a woman who kept her own counsel and was strong-willed and highly intelligent, with the kind of business brain and aptitude for making money that Harry often wished he shared.
There had only been one occasion that Harry could recall when Dee had found herself in a situation over which she did not have full control, a situation where her emotions had overruled her brain, but any kind of reference—no matter how slight—to that particular subject was completely taboo, and Harry would certainly not have dared to refer to it. As well as being in awe of his older cousin, it had to be said that there were times when he was almost, if not afraid of her, then certainly extremely unwilling to arouse her ire.
‘Kelly will be expecting you. You’ll like her,’ Dee informed him, adding almost inconsequentially, ‘She’d fit in very well here, and your mother...’
‘My mother wants me to marry and produce a clutch of grandchildren—yes, I know,’ Harry agreed wryly, before daring to point out, ‘You’re older than me, Dee, and you still haven’t married. Perhaps we’re a family who don’t...’
‘It’s hardly the same thing,’ Dee reproved him. ‘You have the farm to think of. It’s been passed down in the family for over four hundred years. Of course you’ll many.’
Of course he would, but when he was ready and, please God, to someone he chose for himself. Although he tried desperately to hide it, considering that such idealism was not proper for a modern farmer, Harry was a romantic, a man who wanted desperately to fall deeply and completely in love. So far, though, he had not met anyone who stirred such deep and intense emotions within him.
CHAPTER THREE
VERY gently Kelly fingered the soft silk of her gown. Once on it suited her even more perfectly than she had expected, the colour of the chiffon doing impossibly glamorous things for her colouring.
As she looked up she saw that Dee’s cousin Harry was watching her rather anxiously. She smiled reassuringly at him as they waited in the receiving line to be greeted by their host and hostess. She had known from the moment he arrived to pick her up that she was going to like Harry. He was that kind of man—solid, dependable, reassuring, as comfortable as a familiar solid armchair, with the kind of down-to-earth, healthy good looks that typified a certain type of very English male. Just having him standing there beside her made her feel not merely remarkably better about the scheme which Dee had dreamt up but somehow extraordinarily feminine and protected. It was rather a novel sensation for Kelly, who had never been the type of woman to feel that she needed a man to lean on in any shape or form.
‘That colour really suits you,’ Harry told her earnestly as he arched his neck a little uncomfortably, as though he longed to be free of the restriction of his formal dinner suit.
‘Dee chose it,’ Kelly informed him, adding truthfully, ‘I feel rather like Cinderella being equipped for the ball by her fairy godmother... Although...’ She paused and then stopped. There was no point in discussing with Harry her doubts about what she was doing.
They had reached the line-up of dignitaries now. Kelly smiled mischievously as she caught the discreetly admiring second look the Lord Lieutenant of the county gave her before he shook her hand.
It’s all right, it’s not me, it’s the dress, she wanted to reassure his rather austere-looking wife, but then, remembering her new role as a femme fatale, instead she gave him a demure little smile plus a wickedly sultry look from beneath lowered lashes. It worked... His Lordship might be close on sixty, but there was no doubt that he was still a very virile man—at least if the look he was giving her was anything to go by.
Perhaps the evening wasn’t going to be so much of a challenge to her thespian talents as she had originally believed, Kelly mused as they passed down the line and then turned to accept a glass of champagne from one of the hovering waiters.
As Kelly already knew, the tickets for the ball had been unbelievably expensive, with only a relatively small number available, but, as she glanced appreciatively at her surroundings, she could well understand why.
Instead of more conventionally attaching a large marquee to the house to accommodate the event, guests were allowed to wander at will through the elegant antiquefurnished reception rooms. Her own Regency-inspired dress couldn’t have been more felicitously in keeping with the decor, Kelly recognised, her attention caught by a pretty inlaid Chinese lacquered cabinet in one corner of the room, its shelves filled with what she suspected were Sèvres figurines.
Touching Harry’s arm, she pointed it out to him.
‘I’d like to go over and have a closer look,’ she told him. Nodding, Harry gallantly forged ahead to make a pathway through the throng of people now filling the hallway.
Kelly had almost reached her destination when abruptly she stopped dead. There, not a dozen feet away from her, stood Julian Cox. He hadn’t seen her as yet. He was busy talking with a pretty fair-haired young woman standing with him. In looks she was very similar to Beth, Kelly recognised, and she looked somehow as though she too possessed the same gentleness of nature that so characterised her best friend.