The Perfect Lover. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘I...’
‘Not yet. I haven’t finished talking to you,’ he had countered calmly. But he stepped back from her, as though somehow he had guessed just what she was feeling and wanted to make things just that little bit easier for her—which was totally impossible, of course. Louise knew that he disliked her every bit as much as she did him, and that he enjoyed making life difficult and unpleasant for her.
Holding her gaze, he said, ‘Very well, Louise, if you want to do this the hard way then that’s your choice. I do know what’s been going on, Louise, so don’t bother to waste my time or your own apparently failing brain power in trying to lie to me. In your shoes it would be pointless wasting the energy and intelligence you very obviously need for your studies on dreaming up unrealistic scenarios.
‘In my experience there are generally two reasons why a student suddenly fails to live up to his or her forecast academic expectations. One of those is that quite simply, and unfortunately for them, they can’t. By some fluke of fate and the examination board they’ve managed to get themselves onto a degree course they are in no way intellectually equipped to handle. The other...’
He paused and looked calmly at her. ‘The other is that for reasons of their own they have decided that they don’t want to, that there are other and no doubt more important matters to claim their attention. The solution in both cases is, however, the same. For those who don’t have the ability to continue with their course, to bring it to a swift end is, I think, the kindest way to end their misery. To those who have the ability, but who don’t wish to use it... It isn’t so much their misery one wants to bring to an end, but one’s own, and that of their fellow students...’
Louise stared at him in furious disbelief.
‘You’re threatening to have me sent down. You can’t do that,’ she told him flatly.
Gareth Simmond’s dark eyebrows had risen.
‘No? I rather think you’ll find that I can. But forgive me, Louise, I assumed that this must be what you wanted. After all...’ he picked up her course work and threw it disdainfully across his desk towards her ‘...to judge from this, continuing with your course is the last thing you really want to do.
‘Look,’ he went on, when Louise continued to glare at him. ‘If I’ve got it wrong, and the problem is that the work is too taxing for you, please tell me and I’ll try my best to get you transferred onto a less... demanding course. There are university standards,’ he reminded her, with deceptive gentleness, ‘and I’m afraid that-we do still strive for excellence rather than the mere pedestrian. If you feel that you’re not up to the work—’
‘Of course I’m up to it,’ Louise snapped angrily at him, her eyes flashing. How dared he stand there and suggest that she wasn’t up to the work? His predecessor had told her on more than one occasion, albeit perhaps in a roundabout way, that he considered her to be one of his most promising students. His predecessor... Louise clenched her fists.
‘When a student’s grades suddenly start to fall, some people believe that it’s more the teaching that’s at fault, rather than the pupil,’ she challenged him feistily.
Gareth eyed her thoughtfully.
‘Some people might,’ he agreed coolly. ‘But others might more intelligently suspect that the pupil’s nonappearance at nearly half her lectures and tutorials might have something to do with the situation. Wouldn’t you agree? I’m not a fool, Louise,’ he said, at her look of surprise. ‘I know very well that your sister has been standing in for you at my lectures.
‘Look,’ he continued, when Louise made no reply, ‘we could argue about this all day. The fact is, Louise, that you’ve been skipping lectures and missing out on vital course work. And you’ve lost weight,’ he told her abruptly, causing Louise to stare at him in astonishment. How on earth could he tell? Not even her twin or her mother had commented or appeared to notice—and with good reason, since she had taken to wearing loose baggy tops over her regulation jeans, knowing how much her mother would start to fuss if she thought for one moment that she wasn’t eating properly.
Olivia’s mother, although only a Crighton by marriage, had suffered from bulimia for many years, and her behaviour during the years of her marriage to David, her father’s brother, had left its scars on the family. Her own mother was fervently keen on healthy, sensible eating—mealtimes, until Louise had left home, had been old-fashioned family affairs, with everyone seated around the same table. Not that Louise had any problem with that—at least, not usually. She liked her food, and had a good healthy appetite, but just recently she had found herself unable to eat, too sick with longing and need, too hungry for Saul’s love to satisfy her appetite with anything else.
‘I appreciate that you’re having personal problems...’ Gareth said now.
But before he could finish, and suggest that she might benefit from talking them over with someone, she jumped in, demanding aggressively, ‘Who told you that? They—’
‘You did,’ Gareth interrupted her levelly as he studied her mutinous face. ‘You’ve lost weight You’re obviously not sleeping and you’re certainly not working,’ he reminded her quietly. ‘The facts speak for themselves. I don’t need a degree in psychology to interpret them.
‘Professor Lewis told me that he confidently expected you to get a double first. On the basis of your current course work I’d say you’d be lucky to make a third. It’s up to you, Louise. Either start giving your work some serious attention or...’
‘You’ll have me thrown out,’ Louise guessed bitterly.
Without giving him the opportunity to say any more, she snatched up her papers and stormed angrily out of his room.
God, but she hated him. Hated him!
‘Well, how did it go?’ Katie demanded. She had been waiting anxiously for Louise to return from her interview and now, as she came hurtling out into the quadrangle, almost running, Katie had trouble keeping up with her.
‘Slow down,’ she begged her, catching hold of her arm, ‘and tell me what he said.’
‘He said... He threatened to have me sent down,’ Louise told her flatly.
‘What? Oh, Lou, no! Did you tell him, explain...? Did you...?’
‘Tell him what?’ Louise asked bitterly.
‘About... about Saul... Did you explain? Did you—?’
Abruptly Louise stopped moving and turned round to face her twin.
‘Are you mad?’ she asked her grimly. ‘Tell Gareth Simmonds about Saul?’ She closed her eyes as she remembered the revolting pity she had seen in his eyes. How dared he pity her? How dared anyone?
‘He’s given me until Christmas to catch up...’
‘Well, that shouldn’t be too difficult.’ Katie tried to comfort her. ‘We’ve got the rest of the summer vac. And I can help you.’
‘I don’t want your help. I just want—’ Louise began angrily, and then stopped.
The force, the futility of her own feelings frightened her. She felt oddly sick and light-headed.
‘Why don’t we spend the evening together?’ she suggested to Katie, trying to make amends for her earlier bad temper. ‘We could have supper and share a bottle of wine. I’ve still got that case in my room that Aunt Ruth gave us at the beginning of term. She said it would come in useful for student parties...’
‘I’d love to but I’m afraid I can’t,’ Katie told her regretfully, shaking her head before explaining blushingly, ‘I...I’ve got a date and...’
‘A date? Who with?’ Louise questioned her sister.
But Katie shook her head and told her awkwardly, ‘Oh, it’s no one you know... Oh, Lou,’ she pleaded as she turned to give her twin