Sun and Candlelight. Betty NeelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
She had said that she would marry him…now, she was beset with any number of doubts.
“Thank you for dinner and for bringing me back,” Alethea said politely, and then felt foolish at his reply.
“I hardly think that you need to thank me, my dear. Such small services will be my privilege in the future.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She smiled a little shyly at him, and then in a burst of confidence added, “You know, when I got up this morning I’d made up my mind to say no.”
“And what made you change your mind?” he asked quietly.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” She smiled a little. “But I won’t change it again.”
He took her hand, bent his head and kissed her—a quick, light kiss, which, although it had meant nothing at all, stayed in her mind long after she had wished him good-night and had gone to bed.
Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of Betty Neels in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.
Sun and Candlelight
Betty Neels
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER ONE
THE RESTAURANT was small, elegant and discreetly lighted by pink-shaded table lamps which cast a becoming glow on to the feminine occupants, most of whom were glad of it, although the girl sitting at a table for two in the centre of the room needed no such artificial aid. She was a young woman, though not in her first youth, but her lovely face was girlish in its freshness and her dark hair, arranged in an elaborate topknot, curled around it. Her eyes were dark too and heavily lashed and her mouth was softly curved under an exquisite nose; it was a face to be looked at twice and then again which made it all the more remarkable that her companion hardly glanced at her but applied himself to his coq-au-vin in a tight-lipped fashion.
‘It isn’t any good you looking like that.’ Alethea Thomas’s voice was as pretty as her face. ‘I said I wouldn’t and I won’t, and if that’s all you think of me then I can see no point in going on as we are, can you?’
She spoke without heat, waited in silence while the waiter took away their plates and proffered the menu, asked for a sorbet and when the man had gone asked: ‘Well?’
The man opposite her glanced at her angrily and then looked away. ‘You’re such a fool, Alethea—everyone goes away for weekends these days, why not you? Think yourself too good?’ His voice held a sneer, his good looks marred by a frown. ‘You couldn’t have imagined that I was going to ask you to marry me? Lord, it’ll be years before I get a consultant’s post—I can’t afford a wife, certainly not one without any money.’ He smiled suddenly and added coaxingly: ‘Come on, be a sport.’
The waiter served them and retreated again. ‘I must be the most unsporting girl for miles around,’ observed Alethea calmly, and then somehow stayed calm as he suddenly got to his feet and without another word, walked away, hurrying between the tables so that people paused in their talk to stare at him. He went out of the restaurant without a backward glance and after a moment Alethea took up her spoon with a hand which shook slightly and started on her sorbet. She would have liked to have got up and left too, but the awful realisation that she had no more than a handful of small change in her purse prevented her. Presently the bill would be handed to her and she wouldn’t be able to pay it, and it hardly seemed likely that Nick would come back. She spooned some more sorbet and swallowed it with difficulty; she mustn’t cry, which was what she wanted to do very badly, and she mustn’t look around her too much—and above all she mustn’t appear anxious. She ate slowly, putting off the moment when the bill would arrive; she could spend at least fifteen minutes over her coffee, too; perhaps by then Nick would come back, although she was almost certain that he wasn’t going to.
She had agreed to dine with him with such high hopes too. They had been going out together for some months now; the whole hospital expected them to get engaged, although she had never even hinted at it and she was sure now that Nick hadn’t either. She had even bought a new dress for the occasion; a fine black voile patterned with a multitude of flowers, its low neckline edged with a narrow frill and its high waist tied by long velvet ribbons. It had cost her more than she could afford, but she had wanted to look rather special for what she had expected to be a special occasion. After all, Nick had told her that he had something important to ask her and she, fool that she was, she thought bitterly now, had expected him to propose. And all he had wanted was a weekend at Brighton.
She put down her spoon; she had spun out the sorbet just as long as she could… She made the coffee last too, aware that those sitting at nearby tables were glancing at her with some curiosity and presently the waiter presented himself discreetly. ‘The gentleman is not returning? Madam will wish to pay the bill?’ He laid the plate with the folded bill on it beside her and withdrew again, and after a minute Alethea plucked up the courage to peep at it. The total shocked her, and how was she going to pay it? Even if they allowed her to go to the hospital by taxi and fetch the money, where was she going to get it from? It was almost the end of the month, neither she nor any of her friends had more than a pound or two between them, and the banks, naturally enough, were closed. She stared stonily ahead of her, picturing the scene which was going to take place within the next few minutes. She would die of shame and she would never, never forgive Nick.
She had been attracted to him on the very first occasion of their meeting several months ago now; he had come to Theobald’s as Orthopaedic Registrar and they had seen a good deal of each other, for she was Sister in charge of the Orthopaedic Unit. She had admired his dark good looks and his obvious intention to make his way in his profession and she had been flattered when he had singled her out for his special attention. Until she had met him she had never wanted to marry any of the men who had taken her out. She had had no very clear idea of what the man she would marry would be like; he was a dim, scarcely thought-of image in the back of her mind and she had known, even when she found herself attracted to Nick, that he bore no resemblance to that image, but that hadn’t mattered; he